Eileen was finishing dressing when she heard Henry's footsteps outside her door.

"Ready?" he asked. It was almost funny to hear him so eager.

"Just a minute," she said. She put on her second boot, picked up her bag, and checked herself over once more. She wore a long dark blue velvet dress with long sleeves, and knee-high black boots. She threw her sweater around her shoulders, opened her door and walked down the stairs.

Henry was waiting at the bottom of the steps. He wore dark gray slacks, a black silky shirt and a dark gray jacket. As she'd found out, he had a minimalist taste in clothing, which suited him well.

Damn, he looks good, she thought.

He moved forward to take her hand. "You look wonderful, Miss Galvin."

"Thank you, Mr. Townshend," she said.

He held his arms out for inspection. "What do you think?"

"Very nice."

"Should be. You picked all of it out for me."

"You wear them well."

"You want to drive?"

"Well, you don't know where we're going, so that would make sense."

He laughed. "We'll probably get better service if we take your car anyway."

"So, was I wrong?"

"Mmm-mmm." Henry's mouth was too full of sushi to articulate further.

"Yeah. Best I've had. You wouldn't think that Ashfield would be a good place for sushi, but this is great stuff."

They chewed in silence for a bit.

"Want more?" he asked.

"Not too much more...we'll have bad dreams again."

"Good point." He looked at her for a moment, and a sly smile crossed his face. "Have what you like. I'm buying."

Eileen sat up, and frowned at him. "You can't do that. I'm taking you out, not the other way around."

"I owe it to you for bringing me here in the first place. Please."

She was still frowning. He attempted puppy-dog eyes, and she burst out laughing.

"Well...OK."

"Thanks. Anyway," he said, picking up another piece, "before all this started, I finished up a job for a new tourist brochure that Brahms is putting out. I'm expecting a decent check from it, so this is my treat."

She didn't say anything. It was good to hear that he was doing well at his work. She was going to have to get a job soon to pay her part of the rent...but she had a little emergency money put away for a rainy day, and she was going to be fine for a little while.

She nodded at him. "Nice work with the chopsticks. It takes most people a few tries before they get the hang of it."

"Thanks. My mother showed me how when I was little."

"Neat."

"Her mother was Japanese, and had taught her when she was small, so she thought I should learn too," he said.

"Really? You have a Japanese grandmother?"

"Had. She died when I was a few years old. I don't remember her."

"I'm sorry," Eileen said, and put her hand on his. He didn't flinch.

"Thanks," he said. "It's OK. Mom showed me pictures of her." He smiled. "She was beautiful. Mom told me once that I had her eyes."

"Do you speak Japanese at all?"

He shook his head. "Mom sent me to a few lessons when I was a kid, but it didn't take. I just eat the food."

"So," she said teasingly, "you're a quarter Japanese and you never had veggie sushi before?"

He shook his head.

"Grandma came from a wealthy family…at least they were, before the war," he said. "Mom told me that she never carried money, either her servant did or the stores she went to would have her on account. Things changed for her after the war, but she stayed mostly the same.

"Grandma told Mom that sushi was overpriced in America, that it was peasant food back home, and it was ridiculous to pay that much for it." He twirled a piece in his chopsticks. "Mom never really got over that. So, we almost never went out for sushi, except as a special treat. We had noodles, sometimes, and mochi around New Year's. She wanted me to know that part of my heritage. But never sushi."

He popped the piece into his mouth and chewed with a look of bliss on his face.

"So, for me, this is kind of like soul food."

She laughed.

"Your turn," he said, pointing his chopsticks at her. "When did you learn to use these?"

"My story's more boring than yours," she said. "My parents liked to eat out a lot when I was young, so we had Japanese food every now and then. I learned it faster than they did. Even at the end, Mom still wasn't very good with them."

"The end?"

Eileen sighed, and took a sip of tea.

"I'm sorry, it's none of my business," he said. "Forget I asked."

"No, it's OK," she said. "My parents divorced when I was fifteen. So, no more family outings for dinner after that, naturally."

"I'm sorry, Eileen," Henry said. His hand sought hers this time. "Mine split up too, when I was little. Mom brought me up."

"I stayed with my Mom, too, at least for a few years until I went to college."

Henry sat back. "I'm going to change the subject, if you don't mind." He picked up his bowl of rice. "Let me show you rice, like Mom used to make."

Eileen grinned.

Henry motioned the waiter over, and asked for a couple of things with Japanese names that she didn't recognize. The waiter smiled and nodded, and after a minute came back with a small bowl and a medium-sized bowl. He put them on the table and left.

Eileen leaned over the bowls. The smaller one contained a dark greenish slimy substance, and the larger one held…

"What the heck are those?"

"Little, tiny, dried sardines," Henry said, picking up one with his chopsticks. It was just over an inch long. He waggled it at her.

"Eeew. It still has its little eyes."

Henry popped it into his mouth and chewed. "Mmm, salty," he said, grinning.

Eileen grimaced. "You know, normally I'd be a little freaked out right now, but after those damn two-headed babies this doesn't bother me much."

Henry scooped up a large blob of the green substance and spread it over the top of his bowl of rice, then picked up a wad of the little fishes and sprinkled them on top. He picked up a blob of the result, and slid it into his mouth. His expression was beatific.

"That's the stuff," he said as he chewed. He picked up some more rice, and held it out to her. "Here."

Eileen obediently opened her mouth, and he pushed in the rice. It was…salty, yes, but tasted delicious, like the sea. The fish were pleasantly chewy.

"Not bad," she said. He grinned at her. "What I don't get…you'll eat these fish, but you won't eat a slab of salmon on rice?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I had a run-in with a piece of octopus nigiri when I was young and impressionable. These don't seem like fish to me."

Henry chewed for a moment, swallowed, then put down his chopsticks.

"Are you having a good time?"

"What?"

"Are you having a good time?"

"I'm supposed to be taking you out. Isn't that my question?"

"Perhaps, but I can still ask."

Eileen grinned. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun out with a guy."

"Well, I'm not just any guy, am I?"

"Definitely not."

Henry sighed. "I'm not very good at this."

"At what?"

"Just...talking, hanging out, socializing. I've never been comfortable with other people."

"I'm not other people."

"I know. But still."

Eileen picked up a piece of cucumber roll. "You're doing just fine."

"Thanks," Henry said.

"Ever had this much fun with a girl before?"

"No," he said, picking up the chopsticks again. "Actually, I've only asked out one woman. It didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"It's OK. It was my fault. I didn't know what to say around her. I got all tongue-tied and clammed up. After a couple of dates, she didn't call back. I guess she thought I was boring."

"I don't think you're boring."

"Thanks. I'm having a pretty good time, actually."

"Well, I'm not just any girl."

"Definitely not."

"When we get back home, could you show me some of your pictures, like you promised? I'd love to see them."

"Of course. Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why do you want to see them? I mean, I don't mind, but I don't understand why you'd want to."

"Well, if you're a good enough photographer that you can make a living at it - "

"A small living."

"Still, a living - if you can make a living at it, then you must be pretty good. And, I'd like to see what you see."

Henry paused, a piece of sushi hanging in midair.

"I'd be honored to show you."

Eileen smiled. "I see you like the inari."

Henry looked at the rice in the fried pouch.

"It's very simple. Just the rice and the wrapping. But the flavor is terrific. Much more than it seems on the surface."

"It's my favorite too."

Author's Note: Henry's grandmother is based on stories my own father told me of his mother. (And yes, I eat my rice in that way.)