Chapter 14The next morning, I went downstairs. It was almost nine thirty. I hadn’t slept this late in weeks and weeks. The bed had been so comfortable, though. Isabelle was hand washing a few dishes when I came in.
“Don’t we have a dishwasher?” I asked.
“Of course, we do, but this was only three dishes, two mugs, and a frying pan. It was hardly worth the electricity.”
“Well, here are two more.” I placed the coffee mug and cookie plate on the counter.
“What can I make you for breakfast? Bacon and eggs? Pancakes? Waffles? Or are you a donuts and coffee woman?”
“You’re spoiling me again!” I said. “How about just two pieces of toast?”
“No!” she said, emphatically. “Toast is not a breakfast by itself unless you have a fever or a sour stomach. Do you have a fever?”
“No. I feel fine.”
“Th
