Chapter 7 The Roots Beneath The Flame

• Élise had always believed kitchens held ghosts. Not the rattling, haunting kind, but memories;smells, sounds, stories that lingered long after the flames had gone out. Garlic sizzling in oil reminded her of her mother, laughter spilling across the café reminded her of Luc, and the stern clatter of pots belonged to her father’s warnings.
• Every dish carried a memory. And memories were what weighed on her shoulders now.
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