Chapter 121: The Kitchen Wafted with Tempting Aromas

The kitchen wafted with tempting aromas. Daniel Whitmore carefully carried out a steaming bowl. "I learned this seafood soup recipe. Tell me how it tastes."

The dining table was laden with dishes. Glazed pork meatballs glistened crimson. Golden potatoes braised with pork belly looked tender. Freshly sautéed greens shone emerald. And there, the centerpiece—a whole steamed perch, just out of the pot.

Helen deftly picked the tenderest portion from the fish's belly, placing it in her daughter's bowl. "Your father never gets the steaming time right. I supervised this one—it should suit your taste."

"Since when is my timing off?" Daniel protested. "I call it innovative cooking!"

Helen shook her head with a chuckle. "Of course. Our master chef here creates unique dishes."

"Exactly!" Daniel puffed his chest. "Mr. Lewis downstairs asked for my cooking tips just yesterday!"

"Yes, yes, our culinary genius." Helen served him meat. "Eat before everything cools."

"That sounded half-hearted!" Daniel turned to their daughter. "Clara, doesn't Dad cook well?"

He added another fish slice to her bowl. "Try this properly."

Watching her parents banter, Clara's lips curved upward.

The fish melted on her tongue, its natural sweetness blooming. Daniel knew his daughter preferred clean flavors—just ginger and scallions to remove any fishiness, finished with a drizzle of steamed fish soy sauce.

Memories surfaced. The kitchen had always been her father's domain. Helen rarely cooked, mastering only steamed fish and scrambled eggs with tomatoes—because Clara loved them.

After school, young Clara would wait in Daniel's office. At dusk, he'd pedal his worn bicycle through bustling markets, her perched behind. Vendors greeted him like old friends. Helen avoided markets, disliking the noise and claiming poor ingredient judgment.

Though no chef, Helen critiqued Daniel's dishes relentlessly—fueling his competitive spirit until his skills rivaled professionals.

After leaving home, Grant Holloway had taken over caretaking. Now roles reversed, Clara understood her father's devotion.

"Nothing compares to your fish, Dad. Not even award-winning chefs."

Daniel's eyes glistened. "Come home anytime. I'll cook for you."

After dinner, Helen washed and sliced fruits bought that afternoon. Finding the living room empty, she stepped into the yard.

Under amber patio lights, father and daughter sat around a firepit. Sparks crackled occasionally, illuminating their matching smiles.

"Try these strawberries," Helen offered the platter. "Exceptionally sweet this year—just like you loved as a child."

Dewdrops clung to ruby berries, their sugary fragrance irresistible.