Professor Swann’s eyes swim. “She was my first true love,” he replies, turning to stare at the name like he might see her face there if he looks hard enough. “My only true love, to tell you the truth, Emma. She was a schoolteacher here in town. She probably taught your gram, actually.”

“She did,” I say. “Gram told me about her. She said she was a great teacher.”

“Yes, she was,” agrees Professor Swann. “I didn’t visit her here for many, many years. It was too hard. But then, at your grandmother’s funeral, I saw her grave so overgrown, and I knew I couldn’t stay away any longer. She doesn’t deserve to be forgotten.”

For a moment, he looks lost in thought. Or memory, more likely. Then he shakes his head and pins a smile on his face. “Anyhow, happy Thanksgiving, Emma.”

“You, too,” I say. I remember what Ruth said about Professor Swann not having any family. “Professor? Do you have—I mean, do you have plans for dinner today? You could come to our house if you wanted. We’d love to have you.”

Madeline isn’t the only lonely person in Lanternwood. The only one who could use a little company. And like Dad said, we have plenty of food.

He hesitates, leaning his head to one side. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Professor Swann smiles. “In that case, I’d be very grateful.” Then he settles his hat back on his head, takes one last look at Isabella’s tombstone, and follows me out of the graveyard.

Mom and Dad are clearly surprised when Professor Swann walks in behind me and Boomer, but they usher him in. The Ramirezes have already arrived, and Ms. Ramirez immediately starts up a conversation with Professor Swann about what Hampstead College was like when he taught there.

I find Fina talking to Lily in the kitchen. I’ve never seen it so full of food. Mr. Ramirez made chili corn bread, and Ms. Ramirez made pumpkin empanadas and Brussels sprouts with chorizo. The dishes sit alongside Mom’s mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, and Dad’s green beans with almonds. From the oven comes the mouthwatering smell of turkey.

For the first time since Gram died, the house feels really full.

I pull Fina aside, and I tell her about going to Madeline’s house.

“Do you think she’ll come?” she asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say, just as her phone rings. It’s her grandmother calling to wish her a happy Thanksgiving. She puts the phone on FaceTime and introduces me to all her family, who are together in San Diego. Her grandmother says it’s eighty degrees there, and Fina pulls her sweater tighter around her, even though the oven is keeping the whole house toasty.

“Do you miss them a lot today?” I ask once we hang up.