Mrs. Moore wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and added, "Oh, listen to me. On a perfectly good day, why am I talking about such things?"


    Mrs. Moore invited Yvonne to sit down, then went to the kitchen to check on the soup simmering on the stove.


    The rich aroma of duck soup filled the room, a familiar scent from Yvonne''s memories.


    Yvonne stood by the photo wall in the living room, her head tilted up as she looked at the pictures.


    It was Flora''s wall, covered from top to bottom with photos from every stage of her life, starting from when she was a newborn.


    Bet and Yvonne were in some of them, too.


    There they were as children, wearing red scarves, smiling under the sun.


    Another showed Flora at her graduation, dressed in a cap and gown, with Bet and Yvonne on either side of her, all three making peace signs.


    There was also one of Flora in her wedding dress, with Yvonne as her bridesmaid in avender gown. Bet stood off to the side, taking their picture with a camera.


    Thest photo was a maternity shot of Flora, her smile beautiful and gentle, glowing with the light of motherhood.


    But that was where time had stopped for her.


    As Yvonne stood lost in thought, the doorbell rang.


    "Yvonne, could you get the door, please?" Mrs. Moore''s voice called from the kitchen, apanied by the sizzle of food hitting a hot pan.


    Yvonne went to open the door. To her surprise, the person standing outside was Bet.


    He must have juste from the base; he was still in his military uniform and holding a gift box.


    "Mr. Bet Thompson," Yvonne said, a little taken aback.


    Bet nced at her, his deep eyes as calm and unreadable as ever.


    "Where''s Mrs. Moore?"


    "Mrs. Moore is in the kitchen," Yvonne replied, instinctively stepping aside to let him in.


    As Bet entered with the gift, Mrs. Moore came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands after ting a dish.


    "Bet, you''re back? Weren''t you on a mission?" Mrs. Moore asked, looking just as surprised to see him.


    "We got back this morning. It''s Christmas, so I came to see


    Bet said, cing the gif ket


    aside and taking off his uniform


    jacket to hang it on the coat rack.


    Bet had grown up in the Moore household, and they had always kept a room for


    him. He often seemed more at ease here than at the Thompson estate.


    After taking off his jacket, Bet washed his hands and went to the kitchen to help Mrs. Moore bring the food to the table.


    The table wasden with delicious dishes. There was no seafood, but the duck soup smelled incredibly fragrant. Mrs, Moore asked the housekeeper to fetch a bottle of aged wine from the cab.


    “I didn''t know you wereing, so I cooked all of Yvonne''s favorites. But since he


    isn''t here, let''s open one of his good bottles. It''ll make him jealous."


    Mrs. Moore said to Bet with augh.


    Bet took the wine and replied in his usual calm tone, "I''m not a picky eater. I love everything you cook."


    "If you love it, then eat up,” Mrs. Moore said with a smile, using serving utensils to ce food on both Bet''s and Yvonne''s tes.


    After dinner, Bet and Yvonne stayed with Mrs. Moore, drinking tea, chatting, and watching a couple of episodes of a TV drama.


    As the sky outside darkened, Yvonne announced that she had to leave.


    "It''s sote. Why don''t you just stay the night? I''ll have the housekeeper make up the guest room upstairs," Mrs. Moore said, trying to persuade her to stay.


    Yvonne replied, "I have to get back to the set tonight. I have to be up at six tomorrow morning for makeup. Mrs. Moore, I''lle and see you again soon."


    Mrs. Moore understood that young people had to focus on their careers, so she didn''t insist Instead, she turned to Bet and said, "it''s not safe for Yvonne to go back alone. Bet, you should drive her."