Poppy led the four Lins plus Gideon from room to room. Ted had elected to remain on the couch with Austin. Nan’s sharp eyes took in every detail—the two modest but tasteful bedrooms, the corner library, the solemn parlor with russet curtains—and made humming sounds of approval in her throat, but Meifeng would point to a table or lamp and ask abstract, one-worded adjectives, like “Old?” or “Real?” Poppy would rush to answer with a detailed explanation about the origins of each piece and Ivy or Shen would translate. “Everything is falling apart,” Meifeng said to Ivy in Chinese. “Their wealth is made of dung. Not useful even when spread.” She flicked a knob of plaster off the wall, then sniffed it. “It’s an old house,” Ivy hissed back, wishing Meifeng had stayed back in Clarksville. She noticed Poppy glancing over at them in nervous anticipation, listening so hard her neck was strained forward. Ivy smiled weakly. “My grandmother said she loves your—paint color.”

“It’s called Sherwood Green.” Poppy lit up. “I can write down the color number for you. When we first moved in, we went to Benjamin Moore…”

Ivy felt as if her heart were anchored by an arrow to Poppy’s every movement. If Poppy’s brows rose in incredulity, Ivy felt her heart jerk up, and if Poppy’s eyes widened with interest, so, too, did Ivy’s. She quivered whenever Poppy looked confused or agitated and then rushed to make Gideon’s mother feel at ease. When Nan or Meifeng spoke too long in Chinese, she would tell them in sweetly venomous tones to speak English. By the time they returned to the living room, Ivy felt as if she’d just come from teaching an enormous group of illiterate, rambunctious first-graders. She longed to hide in the bathroom but was too afraid of what might happen in her absence.

Things calmed down slightly once the Lins began munching on Poppy’s nibblers. Austin ate one cheese cube, then another. He ate them so fast that soon there was only one cube left, and as he reached out for the last one, Meifeng hit his hand smartly with the back of her cane.

Poppy said in a high voice, “There’s more in the fridge. Please, eat up!” and practically flew to the kitchen. Ivy shot her grandmother a black look of death, to which Meifeng, interpreting her look correctly, simply said, “The doctor told us your brother has high cholesterol. No fatty foods.”

“We were friends in middle school,” Gideon was saying to Shen, who was sitting on the sofa with his hands clenched into fists, resting atop his knees. “Ivy used to be my little cousin’s teacher. My sister, Sylvia, recognized her and got us back in touch.”

“Men who grow up with sisters,” said Shen, “know how to treat women. Like my son here. He has the softest heart.” He patted Austin’s knee and began telling a story about how Austin used to follow Ivy around everywhere—he even used to cry in stores because he wanted to go to the ladies’ room with Ivy instead of with Shen to the men’s room.

Poppy came back with three times the amount of cheese on her platter, setting the plate directly in front of Austin. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said brightly. Austin blushed to the roots of his hair.

“Ivy and Gideon’s love story is very romantic,” Poppy told Nan after she’d settled back down. “Of course, I was surprised by how much of a—whirlwind—it’s been. But considering they were childhood friends, I feel there’s a trust there you don’t have with someone you just met.”

“In Chinese—we call it—mìngyùn…” Nan looked at her husband.

“Fate,” Shen supplied. “My wife says Gideon and Ivy have a shared fate. They are destined. When we were still living in Massachusetts, I remember coming to get Ivy from your house once.”

“That’s right,” said Ted, as if he’d also just remembered. His eyes darted to and away from Nan. He cleared his throat.

“She didn’t tell us about Gideon back then,” said Shen. “My wife was very strict—more studying, less boyfriends. But Ivy snuck out and went to your house. She was so angry when we showed up!” He glanced fondly at Ivy, who was burning in humiliation at her father’s revisionist history.

“Gideon and I were only friends back then,” she said pleasantly.

“Well,” said Poppy, her eyes misty with emotion. “I don’t know about destiny, but I would call it God’s will that you two found each other again.”

“God’s will,” Shen echoed.

“Are you folks Christian?” asked Ted.

“We are,” said Ivy before her father could respond. “My parents used to take us to church every week when we were kids.” She did not say it was to pick up her mother from her English lessons with the local Chinese pastor.

Poppy picked up her glass. “To Ivy and Gideon! Ivy, we are so happy to have you as part of the family. Here’s to our two families coming together and learning more about each other’s cultures.”

Ted said, “Shen, Nan, Grandma Lin, Austin—thank you for joining us this Thanksgiving. We have so much to be grateful for.” Everyone clinked glasses. Meifeng let out a small burp, which they all pretended not to hear.

* * *

“MY WIFE AND I were childhood friends,” Shen said after downing his glass. “We met in high school. She came to my village. She was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. I always knew I would marry her.”

Nan colored with pride.

“Ted and I met in college.” Poppy giggled. “He chased me for two years before I agreed to go on a date with him. I thought he was too popular with the ladies.”

“Now, now,” said Ted. “I was no such Casanova.”

“When you know you love Ivy?” Nan asked Gideon.

“I’ve always admired Ivy,” said Gideon, clearing his throat. “Even back in school, she was the nicest, smartest girl in our grade. And she’s grown into an even more amazing woman.”

Ivy smiled gratefully and reached for his hand.

“Ivy is very smart.” Nan nodded. Shen translated the rest: “My wife says when Ivy was little, all the other kids would ask their parents to buy them toys, but Ivy would go around shoveling snow and mowing lawns for money. All to buy this toy airplane she wanted. She never asked us for anything. She was always independent.”

“That was me,” Austin snarled. Everyone turned to him in surprise. He looked down, seemingly shocked at his own outburst.

“I guess we all remember things differently,” Ted offered kindly. “You don’t want anyone taking your credit, right, kiddo?”

Austin sank further back into the sofa.

“Were you that hardworking?” Shen joked, slapping Austin on the back of his head. But Austin knocked his father’s hand away with such force that the Speyers averted their eyes. Nan admonished her son in Chinese. Austin said nothing.

“Let’s move to the dining room, shall we?” said Poppy.

* * *

THERE WAS A great deal of fuss made over the seating. After much shuffling, Ivy was next to Gideon and Austin, across from her parents and Meifeng; Ted and Poppy were on opposite ends of the table. Laid atop Poppy’s finest tablecloth was a magazine-worthy feast: the pear-thyme brined turkey roasted to a perfect crispy brown, rosemary and bourbon gravy, Brussels sprout gratin, two different kinds of salad, apple-walnut stuffing, brown butter mashed potatoes, French green beans with garlic and almond bread crumbs. Nan and Austin refused Ted’s vintage Cabernet but everyone else took a glass.

Shen praised every bite of food he ate, taking a second helping of everything. Ivy and Gideon took turns telling the story of their engagement, mostly for the Lins’ benefit, as Poppy and Ted had already heard the story many times. The topic then came to the wedding. The ceremony would be held at St. Stephen’s, the reception on the top floor of the Millennium Hotel. Ivy had hired a wedding planner back in September, but that had proven to be unnecessary as Poppy had taken everything under her gracious but unassailable command. She’d been the one to suggest the venue, the date, the guest list, emailing Ivy the names of every Whitaker and Speyer in a massive, four-columned spreadsheet that’d included their age, address, and exact relation to Gideon. “Wouldn’t it be marvelous,” she’d said to Ivy at their last coffee date, “if we incorporated some aspects of your cultural traditions in the reception—perhaps a small show or ceremony?” Ivy had promised to get back to her with some ideas. With no one to guide her on the traditions involved in a grand American wedding, Ivy had readily acquiesced to letting Gideon’s mother decide everything, which now apparently had to include a tribute to Ivy’s Chinese heritage.

Nan gave Shen a significant look. Shen’s face turned grave.

“My wife and I—we want to pay for the wedding.” In the startled silence, Shen said, “In Chinese culture, it’s our duty to provide this for our daughter. She’s our responsibility. We would be honored to do this as her parents.”

Gideon looked at Ivy. Poppy looked at Ted. Ted looked at Gideon.

Ted cleared his throat. “That’s very generous of you, Shen. It’s just, uh, in our culture, we assumed Gideon and Ivy would be financially responsible for themselves… it’s their decision, of course… it’s very generous of you folks…”

“Very generous,” Poppy chimed in.

Ivy felt about as gut-punched as Ted and Poppy sounded. She said, “Let’s discuss it later,” but Nan began to insist over Gideon’s grateful response that they would think on it.

Gideon turned to Ivy. “What do you think?”

She smiled and nodded, trying to hide her bewilderment. “In that case. Thank you. Mama. Baba.” Gideon reiterated his gratitude, getting up to shake Shen’s hand.