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I glanced at Jules and she smiled back.
“Oh,” he said shuffling in his slippers and bathrobe to an empty coffee pot. “Didn’t either of you make coffee?”
We both shook our heads.
“That’s unAmerican,” he joked. “It’s too chilly for the door to be open. Close that for me, will ya’ Elliott?”
I rolled the door down and locked the chain. The kitchen began to heat up with warm bodies and Joan E’s cooking. She made these miniature quiches with the most delectable insides known to man. I never would have considered myself a ‘quiche’ kind of guy but I ate my share and three other’s worth of the darn things. Jules, on a whim, made a yogurt parfait with low fat yogurt, fresh fruit, and honey baked granola. That was probably her antidote to all the cholesterol I had just ingested.
“Here babe,” she said handing me a bowl.
“Jules, are you worried about me?” I cracked.
o;Two jobs?” I asked.
“Yeah, fixing the beautiful children by day and making love to your wife by night.” She eyed me at the last bit.
I smacked my palm to my forehead and shook my head.
“I’m not going to become a physician Jules.”
“Why?” She asked, confused.
“Because I’m never going to make it out of here alive if you keep talking like that.”
“No, you can’t. I like you alive, remember?” She paused, “I’m sorry, but you look like an irresistible hobo. I can’t help myself.”
“That’s what I thought! Not the irresistible part, of course, but the hobo part.”
She dismissed me with her hand, “You’re so handsome Elliott and you don’t even have to try! That’s kind of annoying actually.”
“Oh whatever Jules!” I turned and looked at the door. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I’ve gotta’ get out of here.”
“Why?”
“It should be obvious. Me with you alone equals bad things.”
“Oh,” she blushed.
We headed out the door and she completed the rest of the tour. Her aunt’s home was hands down one of the most creatively beautiful homes I’d ever seen. After the tour, we trudged down the stairs and met everyone in the massive kitchen. We still had a couple of hours to kill before we left for Caroline’s gig so all the older kids decided to watch a movie.
“Back to the scene of the crime,” I nudged quietly.
We both laughed and sat together at the back of the five rows of seats and everyone else piled in around us, knee deep in their own conversations.
“What are we watching?” I asked Jules.
“Not sure. My Uncle Rocky’s picking the film. He’s got pretty great taste in films.”
The lights dimmed and I heard the familiar ticking of the film before it shot onto to the oversized screen in front of us. Jules and I rested our feet on the seats in front of us but neither of us made it past the opening credits. We fell asleep with my arm around Jules and her head on my shoulder. I dozed off breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
When the movie was over, apparently the other kids just let us get some sleep and Jules’ mom didn’t wake us until everyone was ready to leave.
“Julia, honey,” I barely heard.
