Page 263 of Champagne Nights
“Yes, she did.”
“Interesting.” I narrowed my eyes. “Can I pour you some more wine?” I pointed to her empty glass.
“No thanks.” She let out a long yawn. “I’m tired as it is. Actually, I think I’m going to head to bed.”
“You’ve had a long day. Get some rest, and I’ll see you in the morning. By the way, the remote control for the blinds is sitting on the nightstand.”
She gave me a smile as she got up from the couch.
“Good night, Henry.”
“Good night, Ellie. Sweet dreams.”
I watched her walk up the stairs, and then she was out of sight. Taking my scotch out to the deck, I leaned over the railing and stared out at the dark water, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
Ellie
I climbed into bed, grabbed the remote for the blinds, pressed the button, and watched as they came down. A feeling of sadness rushed through me when Henry told me about hisparents. I could tell he was ashamed, which explained why he never said too much about them.
I was exhausted, and my brain was tired from too much thinking. Plus, I was still on New York time and jetlagged. So, I closed my eyes and peacefully drifted to sleep.
The next morning, I awoke to the smell of something burning. Climbing out of bed, I went downstairs and saw Henry in the kitchen.
“What is that smell?” I asked as I walked over to him.
“Good morning. That would be me burning the pancakes.”
I cocked my head and gave him a smile.
“Why do you even try?” I asked.
“I wanted to make you breakfast, and I know pancakes are your favorite. Go sit down, I’ll make some new ones, and I promise not to burn them this time,” he signed.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you go sit down and let me make them?”
“But then I won’t be making breakfast for you,” he signed.
“I like to cook. You know that. So go.” I shooed him away.
“At least let me pour you a cup of coffee,” he said.
“I’d love some.”
After Henry gave me my coffee, he took a seat at the island and watched while I made another batch of pancake mix.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Really good. You?”
“Good. I was thinking we could drive to Santa Monica today and check out the Pier. I think you’ll like it there.”
“Sounds fun. I’d like to go.”
“Okay. Then we’ll head out after breakfast,” he signed with a smile.
After I poured the batter into the pan, he walked over and stood next to me.
“Don’t you think you should turn the heat up? It looks too low,” he signed.
