"What's wrong with my napkin, Mommy? It has funny letters on it."

"Who was in charge of the napkins? They're usually folded like turkeys."
"Who's William Faulkner?"

One of the aunts piped up, "Didn't Maggie do the napkins this year?"

Maggie looked up when she heard her name and saw that the entire family had fixed their gazes on her.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"Why did you do the napkins different? They're supposed to be turkeys," one of the younger cousins informed her. He was immediately shushed by his mother, but the family continued to wait expectantly for an answer.

Maggie shifted uncomfortably in the chair, wanting to crawl under to the same spot she had found Sam earlier. She averted her eyes and looked down to her lap, hoping the moment would pass.

She felt a reassuring squeeze on her right hand, and looked up to see Sam grinning at her. Then, the aunt to her left reached down and squeezed her knee.

"Go on, tell them Maggie," Sam encouraged.

"Well, I didn't mean to do it differently. I just thought I could share a little bit about me. I'm a writer. Trying to be a writer anyway. And I keep a notebook with me. It has all my favorite quotes. To use in my writing. So I shared some of them with you. The ones about being thankful, anyway."

The room was silent, for just a minute.

"So, you found all of these sayings, just for us?" asked the gravy aunt.

"Yeah. I hope that was okay."

They looked around at each other. Sam's grandpa was the one to speak up. "It's more than okay. It's wonderful. We need a little culture over here in Iowa."

"Thank you, Maggie. For your gift to us." he continued.
"Thanks."
"Thanks, Molly."

The moment passed, and everyone resumed tackling the enormous mounds of food piled up on their plates. Maggie dug back into hers, relishing the various textures and tastes.