asked.
âLexus.â
âLexus makes a fine car,â he said. âI always wanted one of their little sports cars, but couldnât swing it.â
Joel continued. âSo have you written some books?â
âOne. It still needs to be edited. Iâm trying to find a publisher, or an agent, but I keep getting rejections.â
âI hear that happens to all writers,â Joel said mercifully. âA few weeks ago I saw this author on PBS. He said he had a collection of dozens of rejection letters. After he sold his first million books, he wrote each of the publishers who had rejected him and sent them a copy of the New York Times bestseller list with his book at number one and a letter telling them how much money they had lost so far. Then he had all his rejection letters framed.â
âIâm still working on my collection,â I said.
âWhatâs your book about?â
âItâs a holiday romance about this lonely woman who meets a man who is dreading going to all his holiday eventsalone, so he asks her if she would like to pretend to be a couple.â
âPretend?â Chuck asked.
âYes. Theyâre the only ones who know their relationshipâs not real.â
âAnd they fall in love?â Chuck said.
âItâs a love story,â my father said. âOf course they fall in love. If it was a thriller, theyâd shoot each other.â
âIt sounds interesting,â Joel said. âIâd read it.â
âYouâd read a romance?â I asked. âI see you as more of a Brad Thor or Lee Child reader.â
He smiled. âActually, I do like a good thriller, but Iâm open to other genres. If a writerâs got a good style.â
âSheâs got a great style,â my father said. âSheâs going to a writersâ conference in a couple weeks. Sheâll get a chance to meet some agents and hopefully sell her book.â
âThatâs really great,â Joel said. âI hope things work out.â
âI donât know if Iâm really going,â I said. âI mean, I looked at it, but it was kind of out of my price range.â
âSheâs going,â my father said.
I didnât say anything.
âWell, it sounds like a lot of fun,â Joel said. âWhen you have your first book signing, Iâll be the first in line.â
âYouâre very sweet,â I said.
âThe truth is, you could sell books just from your author photo. Youâre very pretty.â
I was a little taken aback. âThank you.â
There was an awkward silence. Joel blushed, then said, âIâm sorry, maâam. I didnât mean to embarrass you.â
âNo. That was very sweet.â
He still looked embarrassed. âI canât believe I put my foot in my mouth when thereâs all this delicious food I should be eating instead.â
âWhat can I get you?â I asked.
âWell, Iâd give an arm and a leg for some more of that sweet potato casserole.â
The whole table went quiet. Then he suddenly laughed. âWait, I already did.â
What a beautiful man , I thought.
âBest Thanksgiving dinner Iâve ever had,â Chuck said, patting his stomach.
âYouâre being kind,â my father replied.
âSince when has anyone accused me of that?â he asked. âYou know me, Iâm old enough to speak the truth. My first wife was a horrible cook. The second one wouldnât cook. I donât know which was worse.â
Joel and I smiled at each other.
âIâll get some coffee,â my father said. âAny takers?â
âIâd like some,â Joel said. âWith a little milk.â
âMe too,â I said.
While my father made the coffee I brought the pies over to the table.
âWhatâya got there?â Chuck asked. âIt smells like pies.â
âRight again. Pumpkin