“Absolutely!” Mart mentioned that his mother was concerned they might not be able to gather everyone in one location next year, considering that a number of his cousins would be graduating from high school and leaving for vocational training, college, or even missions work in Haiti with Christian Aid Ministries. “So I understand why she and Dad want to make this work.”

“That’s a lot of people for one house,” she said.

“That’s just the thing—Dad’s looking into using our church basement.”

She thought unexpectedly of Gabe’s family, wondering how many extended relatives he and Emmie had. Where did his parents live? Anna knew of his former sister-in-law, Barbara, but did Gabe have any siblings of his own?

She pushed away such thoughts, wanting to be attentive to Mart, the fellow she should be thinking about.

One thing was sure, she wanted to be in Mifflinburg with her own family for Thanksgiving, with at least a third of them sitting around Mamm’s extendable table. Wanita, her husband, Conrad, and their nine children would come, as usual, and so would Wayne and Cindy and their family. The other five brothers and families regularly went to their wives’ parents’ homes for the holiday, trading off with Dat and Mamm for Christmas or Easter instead.

“Anna? You’re deep in thought,” Mart said, studying her.

She nodded. “Oh . . . sorry.”

He leaned forward on the table. “Busy week?”

“Very.”

He mentioned key lime pie for dessert. “Are you ready for something sweet?”

“Are you having some?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t think of passing up pie of any kind.” He motioned for her to go with him to the dessert section.

“What is it about buffets that brings in so many people?” she asked later, carrying her slice of pie back to the table.

Mart set his on the table and went to hold her chair while she was seated. “It’s probably that there’s so much to choose from—something to make everyone happy.”

“Variety’s gut,” she said, staring at the generous piece of key lime before her.

“Some folk here come and sit and eat and talk . . . and then eat again for hours.”

“The owners surely lose money on them.”

As she looked around the space at the many diners, she spotted a particularly elderly gentleman whose fork shook as he raised it to take a bite, and Anna couldn’t help but think of Mammi’s broken wrist. Was Wanita or one of the older children still helping to feed her?

After the meal, they returned to Flauds’, and Mart got out of the car to go around and open her door. “It was wonderful having supper with you again, Anna,” he said, walking with her to the back door.

“Thanks for another special evening.”

“I’ll see you at the information center Monday,” he said, pausing. “Unless, would you like to attend church with me?”