Anthony started. “Not really—not anymore.”

“Not since you brought shame upon the family name? Chase, put that down.” Chase was holding the chopstick alarmingly close to his brother’s nostril. Lu caught the look on Anthony’s face and said, “I’m sorry.” She had overstepped. It was a bad habit of hers, assuming a familiarity with a new friend that she hadn’t yet earned.

“No, that’s okay. It’s not that. It’s more that—well, it happened before I brought shame on the family name. When I was a kid, we were close. But when I was in college we sort of lost that. It was like, my whole life, my dad was this icon, you know. A star! In the book world, anyway. And in our house, for sure. I revered him.”

Lu nodded and speared a piece of broccoli. She’d finally gotten the hang of this oven, and of the too-shiny rimmed baking sheet. (So many times she wished she’d brought her own from home; she’d written a whole post once on the joys of roasting vegetables on a stained, blackened sheet.) But this time she’d nailed it; the broccoli was lightly charred on the outside and still tender when you bit into it. Little bit of sea salt. Just the way she liked it: it was better than popcorn.

“A lot of people feel that way about their parents.” He sighed heavily. “And then at some point, he became human. I guess when I became a writer myself. Then, after what happened earlier this year—I mean, what I did, not what happened—he didn’t want to talk to me at all. He must be so ashamed.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s my own fault.”

“But I’m still sorry. At the same time, I can imagine it being hard on him. He’s so big-time. I’ve been reading your dad’s books . . . forever! In college . . . man. I used to avoid studying so I could read them. They were like crack.”

“It wasn’t like being Mick Jagger’s son, but it was still a big deal. He sells a lot of books. He makes a lot of money. He has a lot of fans. He was interviewed by Travis Weaver earlier this summer!”

“I know,” said Lu. “I actually saw that.” She thought Travis Weaver was a little pompous, but she watched him anyway because she liked his hair and sometimes they did a decent cooking segment. The day Leonard Puckett was on she’d learned a new trick to try with gazpacho: soak the bread before adding it to the blender. “He was great! So charming. It’s so funny that I didn’t know then that that was your father.”

“Can I be done?” asked Sebastian and Chase at the same time. They must have planned it ahead of time.

“You two can skedaddle,” Lu told them. “Just put your plates in the sink first.” They’d done a passable job on the broccoli but had made a poor showing with the lasagna, as expected. Charlie and Sammy were much more reliable vegetable eaters. “I always wanted to be a writer,” she continued, turning her attention back to Anthony. “I guess that’s why I—”