Jonathan M. Lee

Dead Reckoning , The Story of Théogène Chapman Part I :  Chapter 6   The kitchen was the heart of the house, a space that defied the bitter chill outside with a relentless, humid warmth. It was a sensory overload that began the moment Theo stepped through the threshold. The air was a heavy, intoxicating slurry of dark-roasted coffee, woodsmoke, and the deep, earthy base of a roux that had been stirred for hours until it reached the color of an old penny. He stepped out of the biting wind, and for a moment, the transition nearly blinded him. The living room was dominated by a tall, fragrant cedar tree brought in from the edge of the property. It wasn’t the manicured, store-bought pines of the city; it was wild, asymmetrical, and deeply green. It was decorated with strings of popcorn threaded by hand, dried orange slices that caught the firelight like stained glass, and fragile, hand-painted glass ornaments that had survived three generations of chaotic holidays. Beneath th...