Miss Dora and Lara both started searching for girls suitable for David. One afternoon, while Harry was napping and David was at work, Miss Dora sat near the window with her knitting basket and said softly, "You know Lara, sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing."
Lara, who was dusting the table nearby, turned and asked, "About what, miss?"
"About all this… trying to bring someone new into David's life. What if I'm wrong? What if Maylie's place is never to be touched?" she sighed.
Lara came closer, her voice gentle. "Miss, no one can take Maylie's place. But Harry deserves a mother's love. And David—he deserves peace, even if it comes slowly."
Miss Dora gave her a sad smile. "You're right. It's just… a mother's worry, you know."
Later that day, Miss Dora approached David again, hesitantly asking if he would like to choose a girl himself, someone who he might at least feel comfortable with. But as always, David refused, his tone firm but tired. "I'm not interested, Mom. Don't ask me again, please."
But Miss Dora wasn't someone who gave up easily. That night, while Harry was asleep and the wind gently rustled the curtains, she called in a favor.
The next morning, a knock on the door broke the stillness.
Lara opened the door. A well-dressed woman stood on the porch, a confident smile on her face. "Miss Clay," she said, offering her hand. "I believe Miss Dora is expecting me."
"Yes! Please come in," Lara said, slightly surprised but courteous. "She's in the drawing room."
Miss Clay walked in gracefully, her sharp eyes scanning the home. Miss Dora stood to greet her.
"Clay dear, it's so nice to see you again," she said warmly.
"Oh Dora, it's been too long," Clay replied, hugging her. "So, what's this mission you need my matchmaking powers for?"
They laughed briefly as Lara brought in tea and sweets.
As they sipped their drinks, Miss Dora finally explained. "Clay… it's David. He lost his wife last year. He's not the same. I'm worried. He has a little boy, Harry… and I just don't want him to grow up without a mother figure."
Miss Clay grew quiet, nodding slowly. "That's not easy. But I understand."
"I don't need someone extraordinary. I just want someone kind, gentle, and sincere—a motherly woman for Harry. That's all David wants too… if he wants anything at all," Miss Dora said, her voice catching slightly.
Miss Clay put her cup down and nodded with a gentle seriousness. "I'll do my best. I have many profiles. I'll send you pictures with their bio data. Let's see where destiny takes us."
They exchanged a hopeful glance, and after finishing her tea, Miss Clay stood up. "You'll hear from me soon."
Miss Dora thanked her again and watched her leave with hope flickering in her heart.
Days turned into weeks. There was no word from Miss Clay. One afternoon, Miss Dora and Lara sat sipping their tea, discussing the silence.
Just then—the doorbell rang.
Lara opened the door. A man in uniform stood there.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Is this… M.D's residence?" he said uncertainly, reading from a note.
"M.D.?" she echoed, confused.
"Oh—Miss Dora's house, sorry," he corrected. "I have a parcel from Miss Clay."
Her eyes widened with excitement. "Oh! Yes, yes! Come in."
He handed her a medium-sized box. After thanking him, Lara rushed inside, almost skipping into the drawing room.
"Miss Dora! It's here! The parcel from Miss Clay!" she said, nearly breathless.
Miss Dora put her knitting aside, her eyes lighting up. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!"
Inside was a smaller brown envelope wrapped in delicate white paper. Lara carefully unwrapped it. As the envelope fell open, a thick bundle of photographs spilled out—all neatly labeled with handwritten bio data on the back.
"Finally," Miss Dora murmured.
After lunch, they began to go through the profiles one by one.
"This one's pretty," Lara said, holding up a photo. "But she's a lawyer, and David doesn't like loud personalities."
Miss Dora nodded. "Too tall. This one's too short. This one's got a good heart but doesn't seem steady…"
They continued flipping through the stack, their enthusiasm slowly fading.
"I don't think she has the right energy," Lara said of another girl. "She looks perfect but too showy."
An hour passed, and hope began to dim.
Until—Lara paused. Her eyes narrowed on a photo halfway down the pile.
"This one…" she said softly.
She handed the picture to Miss Dora.
There she was—a girl with soft brown eyes and a gentle smile. Her hair was tied neatly back, her eyes warm yet quiet. She wore a simple kurta, standing in a garden with a book in hand.
"Her name's Kay," Lara read from the back. "Age 27. Not highly qualified, just intermediate, but teaches at a primary school. Lost her parents at a young age. Loves children. Volunteers at a nearby orphanage every Sunday."
Miss Dora blinked at the photo, feeling something stir in her chest.
"She's not the most educated," Lara added gently, "but look at her… doesn't she just feel right?"
Miss Dora placed the picture aside, separate from the rest. "Sometimes what matters most can't be written in a resume."
The room fell quiet.
"Let's keep her aside," Miss Dora whispered. "She's different. Maybe… just maybe… she's meant to be the one."