He sees us for what we are, as real people with thoughts and emotions and dreams; not as objects to be shown off. Pretty looks, pretty hair, pretty cl...thes, none are of importance to him. Pretty good brains, pretty nice characters, mean much more to him. There are not many men around with that maturity of vision.”“How true, my girl. All right, dear. When you feel the time is right, you can bring your young man home to meet us properly.”“I’ll do that, Mum. Bye for now.”“Goodnight, dear.”The. The day before Thanksgiving Abigail and I spent the day in the kitchen running an assembly line of her pumpkin and pecan pies. We finished at midnight, flour bedecked and tired. We flopped onto the sofa, herbal tea in hand."A toast ... to successful pie baking!" I saidWe touched cups.She smiled."A toast to the best assistant pie-maker I ever had."I looked at her as we touched our cups again, basking in the warmth of her appreciation."Thank you Abigail."The next morning we were up at six with. More

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