Chapter 49: Chapter 43: Sign Language

He had a roguish glint in his eyes and a charming smile.

Isla Prescott blushed.

Shane Sterling took the opportunity to sit down, pulling his chair right up next to Isla Prescott.

They were so close their elbows were practically touching.

Isla Prescott’s heart pounded. She glanced around the table, only to find that no one was paying them any mind. Everyone was absorbed in their own conversations.

The waiter began to serve the dishes.

Years ago, when she lived with the Lockwood Family, Isla Prescott had accompanied Mrs. Lockwood to a few high-end restaurants. But without exception, she had always found the food both incomprehensible and unsatisfying.

When the first course arrived, Isla Prescott had a feeling that today’s meal would be another one she couldn’t make heads or tails of.

On a large, vintage-style platter lay eight types of fresh, crisp ingredients. They were all arranged artfully, but it was hard to tell how you were supposed to eat them.

The waiter explained that the dish was called “Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea,” with the concept inspired by the magical instruments held by the immortals in the legend. She rambled on with all sorts of details, but Isla Prescott only caught one thing: the dish was very expensive.

She took a small bite. The red one was red water caltrop, the white slices were wild rice stem, the gray was arrowhead, and the green was water chestnut and water celery. She couldn’t name the other few vegetables, but none of them tasted particularly good. It was as if the ingredients had been blanched in boiling water and then arranged directly on the plate for presentation.

Shane Sterling pushed the sauce dish toward Isla Prescott. “Drizzling some sauce on this dish will improve the flavor.”

Isla Prescott did as Shane Sterling suggested, drizzling on the sauce and taking another bite. The flavor was stronger, but it still wasn’t what she would call delicious.

“Not to your liking?” Shane Sterling asked.

“Maybe I’m just too unrefined for this sort of thing.” She whispered in a voice only Shane Sterling could hear, ’Are all Michelin restaurants like this? A huge plate with a tiny portion, a smear of sauce, and a few sprigs of green? The ingredients cost twenty bucks, but the chef carves a flower and charges you two thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight?’

Her comment made Shane Sterling laugh. “Just eat a little to tide you over. If you’re still hungry when we’re done here, I’ll take you somewhere else.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I can’t eat too much at night.”

“Why not? You’re already so skinny a strong wind could blow you away. Are you on a diet?”

“Not a diet, exactly. I’m just managing my weight.”

Her workload at the dance studio had been heavy lately. To maintain her stamina, she ate a large lunch, which naturally meant she had to eat less for dinner. It was a basic discipline for any dancer.

The next few courses followed the same style.

Isla Prescott changed her mindset and started treating the meal as a low-calorie dinner. From that perspective, it was actually quite enjoyable.

Halfway through the meal, Ezra Sterling suddenly got up and walked over to Shane Sterling. He tapped Shane on the shoulder and made a few signs. Shane put down his chopsticks and went with him to the entryway.

The two brothers communicated in sign language by the door.

To Isla Prescott’s surprise, Shane Sterling’s sign language was very proficient. As they communicated, his hand movements were fluid and effortless. His micro-expressions reinforced his feelings of surprise and curiosity, keeping him perfectly in sync with Ezra Sterling.

The crucial part was that when he communicated with Ezra Sterling, Shane’s entire aura changed. It wasn’t the cautiousness of someone treating his brother as a person with special needs, but a gentleness, acceptance, and love that was almost like a maternal glow.

Sometimes, Isla Prescott had to admit that Shane Sterling, when he wasn’t being a pest, was genuinely charming.

—

After talking with Ezra Sterling, Shane Sterling went to the courtyard for a cigarette before returning to the private room.

Isla Prescott was mostly finished with her meal. Seeing him return, she pushed a small tureen of soup that was next to her toward him.

“It’s the Four-Joy Meatball soup. It’s still hot. You should have it.”

“Did you save it for me?”

“I didn’t save it specially for you. Everyone got one.”

Shane Sterling glanced aside and saw that, indeed, everyone had one. “I don’t care. You pushed it to me, so I’m just going to assume you saved it specially for me.”

He picked up his spoon and began to drink it slowly and deliberately.

“Your sign language seems really fluent,” Isla Prescott asked.

“It’s alright.”

“I saw you communicating with Ezra. You seemed very smooth.”

He lifted his eyes to look at her. “What, you want to learn?”

“No, I was just asking. I feel like you need a certain aptitude to learn sign language, otherwise it must be pretty difficult.”

“I can teach you. I guarantee you’ll master it.” Shane Sterling put down his spoon, ready to start the lesson then and there. “Let’s start with a simple phrase.”

He pointed his index finger at himself, then held up his left thumb. He gently stroked the back of his left thumb with his right hand, and finally, he pointed at Isla Prescott.

’That’s actually not too hard.’

Isla Prescott copied the motions. “Like this?”

“I didn’t see it clearly. Do it again.”

She did it again. “Is that right?”

“Perfect.”

Isla Prescott was pleased to have learned a phrase in sign language so easily. “So what does it mean?”

He leaned in close, his gaze fixed on her. His eyes were like the deep sea—calm on the surface, but with a surging tide beneath.

“I love you.”

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