Ellie closed her eyes.
“No.”
I laughed.
“You barely ate.”
“I was distracted by the dairy architecture.”
“We have three pies.”
Her head lifted again.
“Three?”
“You saw them.”
“I thought one might have been decorative.”
“Who decorates with pie?”
“You decorate with seashell surveillance.”
“That’s the cottage.”
She sat up, holding the sheet against herself.
“Do we have to get dressed?”
“No.”
“Can we eat pie in bed?”
“Yes.”
“All three?”
“That feels ambitious.”
“I teach people to breathe underwater.”
“You’ve become arrogant.”
“Bring me the chocolate one.”
I found a T-shirt for myself and another for Ellie. Mine fell to her thighs.
She looked down.
“This is expensive.”
“How can you tell?”
“It’s too soft.”
“That’s not evidence.”
“It feels like it has a publicist.”
