“You don’t get frequent-flier miles with the travel agency?” he asked. Then he answered his own question. “I guess you couldn’t use them on Thanksgiving anyway. It’s a blackout period.”

“I don’t get them. I don’t travel with the groups. We have people who do that. I just do the logistics, like booking hotels and admissions at some of the venues.”

He nodded as he took this all in. “So, back to Thanksgiving at your ex’s family. I assume Dan and company wouldn’t like me joining them. Disrupt the harem and all that.”

“No, that might be awkward.”

“Then would you be willing to join me?”

“With your family?”

“No, in that department we’re in the same boat. I celebrate Thanksgiving with the family of one of the attorneys I work with.”

“What’s their name?”

“The Hitesmans,” he said. “Scott Hitesman. Real nice family.”

I wrote the name down on the calendar.

“Scott joined the firm about the same time I did. We were working over a Thanksgiving weekend on a big case, and he invited me to join them. I’ve been with them ever since.”

“Will they be okay if I come?”

Nicholas laughed. “No, they’ll be ecstatic. Sharon is always trying to get me to invite someone.”

“Then it’s a date. Will I need to bring anything?”

“I usually just pick up some pies from Marie Callender’s.”

“I can make pie,” I said. “I like baking. I make a pumpkin pie that’s to die for. And a pecan pie that’s a least worth getting sick for.”

He grimaced.

“That didn’t come out right,” I said.

“I love pecan pie. You’ve got a deal.”

“How many people will there be?”

“About seven, including us.”

“How many pies?”

“I usually bring four. An apple, cherry, pumpkin, and mincemeat.”

“Does anyone still eat mincemeat?”

“Grandma Hitesman does. She’s ninety-six. When she dies, the industry will crumble.”

I laughed. “Maybe you could pick that one up.”

“I could do that.”

We both looked back down at the calendar.

“The next week is our firm’s Christmas party,” Nicholas said. “Saturday, December first.”

“The one at La Caille?” I asked.

He nodded.

“That’s the week of my work party too,” I said. “It’s that Wednesday.”

“Can you do both?”

“Absolutely. But I should warn you, it’s not going to be La Caille. It’s not even going to be Burger King, for that matter.”

“I don’t care,” he said.

“You have no idea how nice it will be to go with someone this year. Ever since I divorced, I’ve been the odd one out.”

“I think I have an idea,” he said. “That’s why we’re doing this.”

The next week there were two days marked on the calendar. December sixth and seventh. “What are these?”