Chapter 29

“It’s in the oven,” she said. It already smelled heavenly. “Another hour.”

“May I have this dance?” Gordon bowed to her, like the king in The King and I or the hairy beast in Beauty and the Beast, far more appropriate, considering his looks. Dawn blushed. She called him a “Dork,” but then she took his hand and they danced around the room to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

After dinner, I presented Dawn with three lessons from a Culinary Institute Chef.

“Oh my God! Thank you, Uncle Marty. This guy is more of a father to me than my own sometimes.”

“Aww.” I had no idea she felt that way.

I’d considered giving Gordon the same gift, after the disaster that was his Thanksgiving pies. He admitted the numbers in recipes—one cup, a fourth of a teaspoon, 350 for 45 minutes…he got lost in it sometimes. I thought it might insult him, though, so I decided instead to give him a foot care basket. His feet were jacked up. He’d warned me and it was true.