Chapter 1 - The Flavor of Memory
Owen didn't answer immediately. He stared at the Japanese maple, his fingers tightening slightly on the armrest of his wheelchair. For a long moment, Clara thought he might order her out of the room like he had the others.
"Ten years," Owen said, his voice cracking slightly. "Red velvet cake. My mother used to bake it for my birthday. Real red velvet, not the boxed stuff with synthetic dye. She used traditional cocoa and buttermilk. It had a specific, sharp sweetness. I haven't tasted it since the night she died."
Clara stood up smoothly, picking up the untouched breakfast tray. "Then that’s what we’re going to make."
"You can't," Owen replied bitterly, looking back toward the window. "The doctors have me on a strict, low-sodium, cardiac-bland diet. My father hired a nutritionist from New York who looks at food like a math equation. Sugar and fat are considered a liability in this house."
"Your father isn't in the kitchen," Clara said, her voice laced with a quiet defiance. "And if you only have fourteen days left, Owen, you shouldn't spend them eating cardboard."
Late that afternoon, Nathan Whitmore returned to the mansion. The heavy oak doors closed behind him, throwing the grand foyer into its usual, stifling silence. He walked upstairs toward his son’s room, preparing himself for the inevitable sight of another untouched tray and a silent, fading boy.
But when he opened the door, the scent hit him first.
It wasn't the sharp smell of antiseptic or the heavy scent of lemon furniture polish. It was the rich, deep aroma of baked cocoa and vanilla—a scent that violently dragged Nathan back a decade, to a kitchen filled with laughter and a woman with flour on her cheeks.
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Owen was sitting upright in bed. In front of him was a small, perfectly frosted slice of crimson cake. He had a fork in his hand, and for the first time in months, there was color in his cheeks.
"What is the meaning of this?" Nathan demanded, his voice dropping to a harsh, commanding register as he stepped into the room.
