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Graydon : An Analysis

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With the pages of his manuscript in hand, I visit Graydon.
As he leads me into the kitchen, his body gives off a coconut scent. Not a hint of alcohol. And he’s dressed in khaki shorts and a navy tee shirt with flip flops. A sign he’s been up for a while.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, thanks.”
He takes two colored mugs from the glass cabinet and fills them with coffee. I glance around the ultra-modern kitchen that’s bright with pale walls, hanging copper pots and a sliding door the length of the patio.
“The kitchen’s beautiful.”
“Thanks, I love to eat breakfast here or on the patio.”
He places the mugs on the table along with a small carton of half and half. I pour the crème into my coffee. He does as well. “I got your text. So you’re all good with …show more content…

But my mother heard you pull into the driveway sometime this morning with a bang. So I believe you.”
“Yeah, I did do damage to my car and the garage door. Apologize to your mother for me.”
“No problem. She’s a light sleeper anyway.”
He looks up at me. “You know, Elizabeth talked about your mother often. I think she called her Rachel.”
“Are you sure it was my mother?” “Positive. She said they’d gone to lunch several times the past year.”
Without a beat, he takes several eggs from the refrigerator, cracks them hard into a bowl. With expert precision, he whisks them followed by soaking the thick pieces of Challah in the egg mixture. I sit in silence while he turns on the burner of the stove, places the bread in the frying pan coated with butter.
Not long after, the French toast with crispy bacon is on a plate in front me. I eat a mouthful to be polite. Though all the talk about Elizabeth has made me feel on edge.
“Wow. You’re quite the chef.”
“Thanks. I started cooking and making wine to help me unwind.” He bites off a piece of bacon.
“Has it worked?” “Not really. Sooner or later, everything takes a back seat to writing. I hope you’re all right with that? Elizabeth wasn’t.” He gives me an odd look.
“I don’t know. It depends.” I place my fork on the table.
“I’m sorry. Was I was too blunt?”
I push back my chair. “No, but I should go. Simon, the creative director, wants to see my radio and TV scripts tomorrow. But if you have more chapters for me to read?”
“Yeah,

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