The men shortly went to the living room to watch the football game. Ivy rolled up her sleeves to help Poppy assemble the cranberry goat cheese salad. It felt like stepping back into Finn Oaks. The kitchen was thick with the smells of butter and roasting meats; a sports announcer, the same announcer, it seemed, for every sports game ever broadcasted, was shouting from the TV.

“I’m so happy we decided to do this,” Poppy said as she piled the butter lettuce into the salad spinner. “With Sylvia in Belize with Jeremy, Ted and I felt so abandoned. We thought we were going to have to accept my sister Ellen’s invitation last-minute… We’d love to see darling Arabella, of course, but Ellen gets so out of hand during the holidays. Her husband, John, you know, is…” She kept up a steady stream of talk about her various family members—Ivy was not sure if she was expected to follow along—interspersed with questions concerning the Lins’ food preferences, like if Nan liked butter on her corn.

Ivy had never known Nan to like anything other than Chinese food. “Whichever way you like is fine,” she said. She checked her watch. Ten minutes to seven. She prayed the Lins hadn’t run into traffic. She had warned Shen, no less than three times, to leave before noon.

“With an extra pat of butter then,” said Poppy. After finishing with the corn, she opened the ovens, releasing a blast of fragrant heat, and Ivy saw the twenty-pound turkey basting in its juices, the green bean casserole warming in the lower shelf.

“This looks amazing, Poppy,” Ivy remarked as she shredded mint leaves into tiny sections. She checked her watch again. “My brother will worship you. He’s a huge foodie.”

“Thank you, darling. Ted and I used to dine out all the time but I’ve come to love cooking so much since he retired. There’s something about your husband eating your food that feels very special.” She winked at Ivy. “You’ll know soon enough.” She began to help Ivy with the mint. “How many years apart are you and your brother?”

“Four.”

“He’s just out of college then.”

“Actually, he’s taking this year off.” Ivy had told Poppy this before, and Gideon’s mother had an impeccable memory.

Poppy nodded vaguely. “Sylvia took a semester off from Yale for a screen-printing apprenticeship in Florence. That’s how she knew she wanted to get her PhD in art history. Does Austin know what he wants to do after graduation?”

“He likes computers. He’s always tinkering with gadgets in his room. He prefers to build stuff and learn through hands-on experience instead of sitting in a classroom.”

“Your entire family must be very gifted,” Poppy marveled. “Austin will make an incredible engineer”—Ivy blinked in embarrassment—“and you’re so brave, chasing after your dreams of becoming a lawyer”—Ivy was blushing in earnest now—“and your parents must be very smart to have started their own business from scratch.”

“I think it’s more hard work than talent,” Ivy demurred. She could never tell if Gideon’s mother was only being excessively kind or if she actually held these glowing opinions of her friends and acquaintances; if it was the latter, then the world was a very rosy place indeed for Poppy Speyer.

“If Austin’s interested in computers,” Poppy said thoughtfully, “maybe he can do an internship at Spencer’s—my cousin’s—company. They hire every tech-savvy person they can get their hands on. But perhaps Austin will think the work is too boring. He sounds very advanced.”

Ivy said she would talk to her brother about it. She doubted Austin was capable of much more than sleeping these days. The Lins’ optimistic plan for Austin—the local college, thirty minutes of reading a day, early-morning jogs around the neighborhood—had lasted all of two weeks before everyone conceded that perhaps Austin was still too anemic for such a vigorous schedule. The vitamins, Nan admitted, hadn’t worked at all.

Thankfully, before Poppy could insist on asking her cousin right then and there—it was hard to extricate an idea from Poppy’s mind if she thought about it for too long—the doorbell rang.

“Oh, that must be them,” said Poppy, smoothing out her hair with an endearing pat. She called out to Ted and Gideon.

Nerves seized Ivy all at once. She trailed after Poppy with her best game face: chin up, eyes crinkled into a welcoming smile. The smell of butter was overwhelming—she’d only had that matcha tea at Roux’s house—and she had to swallow the acid rising up her esophagus.

“Hello there!” said Poppy. “Thank you for making the drive all the way up! Come in, come in!” She ushered the four Lins inside with bear hugs, which the Lins returned with an air of fumbled slowness consistent with people unused to physical contact.

When Ivy saw her parents walking toward her, her jaw dropped: they were decked out head to toe in designer clothes. Almost every article of clothing had a brand in an obvious placement: the breast area of Shen’s patterned sweater vest, the cuffs of his crisply ironed button-down, the large silver clasps on his loafers. Nan wore a heavy beaded jacket over a red silk blouse; the purse she carried had a giant designer logo sewn in onyx and gilt. Thankfully, Meifeng looked no different from her usual getup: a stiff jacket buttoned up to her neck, gray trousers, black walking shoes. “I called to warn you but you didn’t pick up,” Meifeng muttered, waving aside Ivy’s gesture to help her with her cane. “Leave it. I need it these days, my knees are killing me.” She smiled at the Speyers and said in broken English, “Hello! Welcome!”

“Welcome,” said Poppy, and Ted said, “Welcome indeed.”

“Do you like my jacket?” Nan whispered to Ivy in Chinese. Ivy grimaced. When they stepped aside, she saw Austin lurking in the back, wearing an ill-fitting tweed blazer over a black crew sweater. He had lost a lot of weight and was, for some reason, sweating profusely even though he’d just stepped inside. Ivy stood up on tiptoes to kiss one ashen cheek, feeling sad in a way only Austin evoked in her, a sadness that included both anger and guilt. They’d grown up with the same parents. Why couldn’t he adjust, as she had?

“Do you like the camera I got you?”

“I haven’t used it yet,” he said.

Gideon was smiling and uttering all manner of compliments to Shen and Nan. Ivy could tell he was nervous because he stammered more than once, though his face betrayed no embarrassment. Shen seemed equally nervous, ducking his head into his shoulders and nodding vigorously at everything Gideon said. Nan alone remained unmoved, staring Gideon up and down, not even bothering to hide the judgments forming in her gleaming black eyes.

After many starts and stops and interruptions and polite laughter, Poppy led them to the living room and served aperitifs and little bite-sized cheeses and fruits she called “nibblers.”

“Your house is beautiful,” Nan commented in a thick-accented English, looking up at the chandelier dripping crystals like a waterfall, the ornate fleur-de-lis frieze molding, the white marble head brought back from Greece atop a small bronze drawer. To her husband, she said in Chinese, “Look at their ceilings. We should do something about our ceilings.”

“How long have you lived here?” Shen asked.

“Let’s see…” said Poppy. “We moved here almost four years ago, is that right, Ted?”

“That’s right.”

“How much it cost to buy?” said Nan.

Poppy blinked. “Oh, um, the house? Rent for our place is around four thousand.” She tittered at Ted. “It’s very affordable for what we’re getting.”

“We sold our place back in Andover,” Ted explained to Shen. Ted seemed incapable of keeping his gaze on Nan, smiling at her with a kind of diffident trepidation, mingled with little nods, before looking back at Shen. “It was too big once the kids moved out. We wanted to be in the city and we liked the freedom of renting. We can pick up and go whenever we want.”

“Like homeless people,” sniffed Meifeng in Chinese, her understanding of English having vastly improved since she’d started watching reality television. Her head swiveled around the Speyers’ living room until Poppy said, “Ivy, would your family like a tour?”

“Yes,” said Meifeng loudly, pushing herself up on her cane. Ivy, despairing, stood up as well.