Chapter 8 - The Shadow of the Mother
As the winter months began to roll into Chicago, bringing the first dusting of white snow to the green lawns of the estate, Daniel found himself spending more time in the kitchen.
He had never been a cook. Marissa had been the one who understood spices, who knew how to make the chicken soup taste like home. But Daniel had found her old handwritten recipe book in the back of the pantry, its pages yellowed and stained with vanilla and chicken broth.
"Daddy," Lily said, sitting on a high stool at the kitchen island, her legs swinging back and forth. "Is it going to smell like Mommy's soup?"
"I'm trying, sweetheart," Daniel said, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. He looked down at the recipe: Two bay leaves, three carrots, and a pinch of love.
He didn't know how to measure a pinch of love, but he thought of Marissa’s smile, of the way she used to laugh when he burned the toast, and he felt a strange, warm sensation in his chest.
The doorbell rang.
Daniel set the spoon down and walked to the foyer. Since the incident with Valerie, the security team had been reduced—he didn't want Lily living in a fortress—but the front gate was still controlled by an intercom.
He opened the door to find a woman standing on the porch.
She was young, perhaps thirty, with soft brown hair and eyes that looked incredibly familiar. She wore a simple wool coat and held a small leather portfolio in her hands.
"Can I help you?" Daniel asked.
"Mr. Whitaker?" she said, her voice quiet and slightly nervous. "My name is Sarah Miller. I’m... I was Marissa’s cousin. Her mother’s side of the family."
Daniel’s breath caught in his throat. He had forgotten about that branch of the family. After Marissa died, her parents had passed away, and the rest of her relatives had faded into the background of his busy, chaotic life.
"Sarah," he said, stepping aside. "Please, come in. It’s cold out there."
"Thank you," she said, stepping into the warm foyer. She looked around the grand hall, her eyes lingering on the staircase, then on the kitchen where the scent of the chicken soup was beginning to fill the air.
"I know this is sudden," Sarah said, turning to him as she took off her gloves. "But I’ve been thinking about Lily. After everything that happened... the news about your wife—Valerie—it was all over the papers. I was worried. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do. For Marissa's sake."
Daniel looked at her, his mind working through the old, defensive protocols. Was she here for money? Was she another vulture?
But as he looked into her eyes, he saw no greed. He saw only the same soft, gentle warmth he had lost two years ago.
"Daddy?" Lily's voice called from the kitchen.
She walked into the foyer, holding her rag doll by its one remaining arm. When she saw Sarah, she stopped, her eyes widening.
"Mommy?" she whispered.
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. She dropped to her knees on the polished floor, her arms open.
"No, sweetie," Sarah said, her voice shaking. "I'm not your mommy. But I'm your Aunt Sarah. And I knew your mommy very, very well."
Lily hesitated for a second, looking up at Daniel for permission.
Daniel nodded, a small, genuine smile touching his lips.
Lily ran forward, throwing her small arms around Sarah's neck. Sarah held her tight, her eyes closing as she buried her face in the little girl's hair.
May you like
Daniel stood by the door, watching them. The kitchen clock ticked. The soup pot tapped under its lid.
The house no longer felt scary quiet.
