After composing himself, Sean Quinn went downstairs and entered the kitchen. Stella Lockwood, dressed in a white dress, was helping Missie Frances. She looked completely refreshed, nothing like the night before. Last night, she'd been frantic, like a mischievous child throwing a relentless, unreasonable tantrum.
At the time, enduring her antics had been a headache. Now, though, he found himself thinking that even those moments held a unique sort of beauty—an indelible memory.
Several breakfast dishes were laid out on the table: millet porridge, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, shumai, fried eggs, and shredded kelp. Missie Frances changed up the menu every day, but everything she made was something Stella Lockwood had loved as a child. It was also what he loved to eat...
He sat down, ladled a small bowl for Stella Lockwood, and passed it to her. He then poured a bit of vinegar, added a dash of red chili sauce, and slid the small dish her way.
