“All endings turn into new beginnings,” Micah continued. “Today, we harvest our beloved community garden for the last time and transition our energies to the Sanctuary. After we celebrate and give thanks on Thursday, we will begin planting our new fields there Friday.”

Karina’s parents had been asking whether she was coming home for Thanksgiving. When she was growing up, the holiday had been a muted affair with just their immediate family. There was no squeezing extra people around the dining table, none of the antics of a large, boisterous family coming together to fight over politics or laugh at old jokes. It was always a challenge to find a turkey small enough for just the four (or later, three) of them. Her mother hated leftovers, and all the small birds seemed to get bought up early, so she had taken to getting their turkey a month before and stowing it in the freezer, where it took up half the compartment. Karina and Prem would have an ice cream binge the day Mom brought home the turkey, to make room for the bird. That was often the best part of the holiday, and it was what Karina missed most about Thanksgiving after Prem died.

Her father had insisted they celebrate the holiday together throughout Karina’s high school years, even coming over to the house with bags full of groceries after he had moved out. But somehow, with just three of them, something essential was missing, like the salt in their food. Her parents had perfected their menu over the years and took pride in the way everything tasted. But despite the creamy mashed potatoes with chives, the port-wine gravy, the delicate haricots verts with toasted almonds, the Thanksgiving feast had never quite managed to leave her satisfied.

Karina didn’t have anywhere to go in Santa Barbara, but part of her didn’t want to mark the occasion at all, to feel the absence of what should have been there, like her tongue returning to a lost tooth. It was tempting to just stay in town to study and work. She knew she could pick up extra shifts at NatMark, since Thanksgiving week was busy.

“So, grab a bin and let’s get started,” Micah said, clapping his hands together. There was a cheer from the crowd and a few claps.

Karina wandered over to the bin holding work gloves and crouched down next to August, who was rummaging for a matching pair. “So August, do you live at the . . .”

“Sanctuary?” He looked up at her. “Yeah, moved in about six months ago. It’s a beautiful place, truly.” August’s voice caught. “Sometimes, I think Micah saved my life with that place.” Before she could ask what he meant, Micah came over and gave Karina a warm hug in greeting, his arm lingering comfortably around her shoulders. “Want to work on the beets with me?”

They knelt on the ground at two adjacent corners of the plot. Micah pulled up one of the plants by its greens, revealing a lumpy rose-pink bulb. “Candy-cane varietal,” he said. “Red-and-white striped inside. So beautiful when you slice it open.” He rubbed the beet vigorously against his shirt and bit into it.