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“A botanical garden in Denver bought it.”

Tom whistles again, Shannon lets out a delighted laugh, and even Blair looks impressed. Before the group settles, Rachel adds, “And they commissioned an installation. Several large pieces designed to go together in one section of the gardens.”

Kell turns fully toward Locke. “You’re going to Denver.”

“Eventually.”

Kell catches Locke by both shoulders. “That’s enormous.” Locke’s expression changes just enough for me to see how much the news means to him, even if he has no intention of making a speech about it.

“I want to see the plans,” Kell says.

“I assumed you would.”

“Tonight?”

Rachel laughs. “Dessert first.”

Kell glances toward the table. “That seems reasonable.”

Dessert has somehow become the only part of the meal willing to acknowledge Thanksgiving. Rachel made an apple pie, Shannon brought pumpkin, and Janet arrived with a pecan pie she claims she bought because nobody in her family would let her leave Thursday dinner with the one her mother made.

“Your mother sent you home without pie?” Blair asks.

“She sent me home with green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, dressing, and enough turkey for four sandwiches. She drew the line at the pecan.”

“That’s cold.”

“She said my brother called it first.”

Shannon points toward the pumpkin pie. “Tom’s mother sent us home with two pies.”

Tom looks over from the grill. “Three.” He looks slightly sheepish when he adds, “One is already gone.”

Rachel laughs. “This is exactly why we needed Friendsgiving. Thanksgiving with people you love still requires a recovery meal with other people you love.”

The joke settles into something warmer. Around the patio are pieces of everybody’s Thursday. Kell and I still have enough turkey in our refrigerator to reconsider every decision we made about portion sizes. Shannon and Tom talk over each other about his parents. Janet is telling Blair, “Thirty-seven years old, and apparently Thanksgiving was the day my brother discovered dishes can go into the dishwasher without a woman putting them there.” Rachel is talking about her parents coming to the cottage and how well they get along with Locke. Blair dryly refuses to discuss how long hers spent debating whether gravy counted as a sauce or a food group. Nothing dramatic. Just everybody carrying stories from somewhere else they belonged before ending up here together.

Across the patio, Kell drifts toward the dessert table. I’m still talking to Rachel when I see him stop in front of the pies, study them, cut a slice, and add a generous spoonful of whipped cream.

He comes back across the patio smiling, stepping around Blair on his way to me. He hands me the plate. “Rachel just brought this out. Apple’s your favorite.”

I look at the whipped cream. “You remembered.”

“You’d complain if I forgot, right?”

“That seems excessive.”

“Admit it, you would.”

I take the plate from him, laughing, and he gives my shoulder a quick squeeze before turning back toward Locke, already asking something about the heron’s wing.

Janet joins them and studies the heron. “Please tell me this is weatherproof. I’ve already decided I love it, and I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to worry about its future.”

Locke glances at her. “It’s sealed.”

“Excellent. Now I can go back to being impressed.”

By the time everyone has had their fill of dessert, Kell and Locke are back at the heron, circling it together and arguing about the wing and the base.