As Yvonne Young thought back to Spencer Sullivan's words, her anger grew. She set her sights on the refrigerator, went over and opened the door, and took out watermelon, oranges, and various apples.
The television was tuned to a financial news channel, twenty minutes had passed, and Spencer Sullivan had glanced at the clock and the restaurant entrance over ten times.
Still, there was no sign of the familiar woman.
Just as he was about to get up and check, she appeared with an apron wrapped around her. Her ponytail had come loose, allowing strands of hair to fall and give her a disheveled yet lazy vibe.
Her fair ankles peeked out from beneath, each step she took in her nude-pink slippers seemed light and soft.
Spencer Sullivan had never seen Yvonne Young like this – tall and slender, a gentle, family-oriented woman.
It was as if the air had softened as well.
When Lazarus Macdonald and Ben Sutton saw Yvonne on her way, they grew curious about what she was holding in her hands.