“Yeah,” Fina says. “Abuelita especially. But I’ll get to see her at Christmas. And anyway, I’ve got you!”

“Yeah,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing. “You do.”

Lily pulls out a board game she’s been too cool to play since she was like ten, and the three of us play while the grown-ups finish cooking. Every few minutes, I look over at the door, but nobody rings the bell.

So I’m actually a little sad when Mom says it’s time for dinner. But when we sit down, Lily and Professor Swann start talking about study abroad programs, and Mr. Ramirez and Dad get into a dad joke-off. Their jokes get worse and worse, but everyone just laughs harder and harder. We eat firsts and seconds and thirds until I literally can’t have another bite. And that’s before dessert.

By the time the knock comes at the door, I’ve almost forgotten I was hoping for Madeline to come.

Everything goes quiet as we all look at one another.

“Is someone going to answer that?” Ms. Ramirez says.

I shoot up from my seat and walk to the door. I open it and have to hide my disappointment. Old Joe is standing on the doorstep.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Emma!” he says.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Joe.”

“Gloria sent me. The lights are about to go on. And she wants you to plug them in this year.”

“Me?” I ask. “Why me?”

“I learned a long time ago not to question Gloria,” he says, shaking his head.

I laugh. “Okay. Hold on. I’ll get everybody together.”

“Great,” Old Joe says. “And here—this was sitting on the stoop when I walked up.”

He hands me a hot dish covered in tinfoil.

I shut the door and bring the dish into the dining room. There’s a note stuck on it.

“What is it?” Fina asks. “What does the note say?”

I unfold it and read aloud the words—written in familiar handwriting. “‘Dear Emma, Thank you for your invitation. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.’”

“That’s all?” Fina asks, her face falling.

“No,” I say. “There’s a P.S.”

Keep knocking.

I hand Fina the note so she can see for herself, then pull back the foil from the dish. Inside is a warm apple pie.

After we all have our hats and gloves firmly on and scarves wrapped tightly, we walk the short distance to the village hall, where people are gathered around, talking and wishing one another happy Thanksgivings. Professor Swann has to stand on tiptoe to see over the crowd. Old Joe goes to stand by Older Joe, who is wearing a truly terrible purple wool hat and has cranberry sauce caught in his white beard.