"It's a sad sight, really," Callaway replied with an amused grin as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I talk about the weather, and his old dog, and the weather some more."
He reached for his beer and took a swig, and like Parker, he found that he enjoyed the silence as well. It didn't at all feel awkward or strained, and that sort of comfort with a new person was rare.
"I do," he replied almost at once, and he turned his attention to the younger man's face. "It's very good, very well written. And I think it'd do quite well if they do publish it. I really think you should let me hand it off to Sanders so that he'll at least read it. So many good novels get overlooked, and I'd hate for that to happen to yours."
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