I knocked on the shed's door. It had been a long day at work and I was anxious to get home, but I wanted to speak with Lorelai first.

She soon came to the door, bowl of Spaghetti-O's that was that night's dinner in hand. When she saw me she rolled her eyes, smiling. "You don't have to knock, Mia."

"Oh, that's alright, you deserve some amount of privacy."

"Not from you. Next time just come in. It's almost never locked."

"I'll never understand why the doors in this town have locks," I mused. "I have a question for you," I declared, taking a few steps into the shed.

"What?" she asked pleasantly as she fed Rory from a cup of applesauce.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Are you going to your parents' house?"

"Oh, God no," she said quickly. "Definitely not. Not yet. I mean, I guess I'll probably have to spend some holidays with them," she said with reluctance, "but now's too soon. I don't need to deal with that yet. I was thinking of treating myself to take-out that night." She smiled. "It is a holiday."

"I can offer you better than that if you're interested."

She looked to be bordering between curious and confused. "What?"

"My son, John… he's a little older than you; he's a college student. He normally comes home for holidays, but he was offered an internship over Thanksgiving. It's a wonderful opportunity for him, but it's out of town. With him gone, I have the house to myself for Thanksgiving. It's a big house, and it tends to get a little lonely, especially on holidays. If you and Rory would like to come spend Thanksgiving with me, I would be honored." I paused, giving her time to consider. "Of course," I added, "it is your first Thanksgiving away from your parents' house, and if you'd rather spend it just the two of you, I understand completely."

She smiled a sweet, genuine smile, and answered without pause. "Mia, we'd love to spend Thanksgiving with you, as long as we don't make it any extra work for you."

"Oh, of course not. It wouldn't be Thanksgiving if I didn't have to cook for somebody."

I was surprised to find that after my comment, Lorelai appeared shocked. "You don't have to cook for us," she said immediately. "You can order out, or…" she seemed out of ideas.

I smiled, although I was slightly confused. "It's no problem," I insisted. "I cook for myself almost every night, and when John's home, for him and almost always one or two of his friends." My tone changed as another thought occurred to me. "I'm a decent cook, I promise."

She smiled slightly. "I'm sure you are. It's just that…" she paused, thinking. "I guess I'm not used to the idea. I'd pay big money to see my mother cook."

I frowned slightly, unsure of what to think. "Your mother doesn't cook?"

She let out a small laugh. "God, no. I can't ever remember a time when she did. I'd be afraid to eat anything she made."

"Is she busy with work?" I asked, trying to fathom why a woman wouldn't make dinner for her family. "Does she order out often?"

"Hah, no. She doesn't have a job." She laughed. "Now that, I would pay to see." He mind seemed to wonder. "My mother in an office… her own office…" she laughed out loud, unable to contain herself. "And we almost never ordered out. Actually, never. We went out on occasion, but never ordered out. The cooking's left to whatever cook my mother happens to have on staff."

"You had a cook?"

A look of confusion crossed her face for a brief moment, but then she seemed to understand. "Right," she said, "different world here. My parents are pretty much loaded. Actually, they're pretty much completely loaded. They've always had cooks, maids, nannies… cotillions, functions, coming out parties, frilly dresses…" she trailed off, mind lost somewhere completely separate from the small room in which we sat. After a moment, she regained herself, and shook her head quickly, as if to shake out her thoughts. "That wasn't my scene. I can't be part of that world. That was one of the reasons I left."

I nodded, with an expression that I hoped seemed understanding. "Well, I would be honored to serve you your first Thanksgiving dinner cooked by a genuine housewife."

She smiled. "Can I bring something? What can I do to help?"

"Absolutely nothing," I insisted. "Just show up."

"Is anyone else going to be there?" she asked. "I mean, Thanksgiving for most people is a big family thing. Right?"

I shook my head. "Well, yes," I said, "but my family consists of John and me. I have further removed relatives dispersed throughout the country, but I don't often see them."

"Ah. Got it. So it'll just be the three of us?"

"Just the three of us," I confirmed.

"Great. You're sure I can't bring anything?"

"Positive."

"If I happened to bring something by mistake…"

"I would turn you away at the door."

"Wow. Okay, I'll make sure it doesn't happen."

I smiled. "Be sure to do that." I stood up. "I'll leave the two of you alone now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bright and early," she said with a roll of her eyes.

I smiled. "I'm not a morning person myself. Nevertheless, I will see you then."

"Yes you will," she said. "Thanks for the invite, can't wait."

I smiled as I left the shed. "Neither can I." For the first time since I'd found out John wasn't going to be home, I was excited about the coming holiday.

"This turkey is amazing, Mia," Lorelai said sincerely, as she put another piece on her plate.

"Thank you," I said. "But between the three of us I'm going to have enough left over to keep me in turkey for the rest of my life."

"Then I'll eat more," Lorelai said with a smile.

"Make sure you save room for the pie," I warned. "It isn't Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie."

"Okay, then one more slice of turkey and a medium-sized scoop of mashed potatoes."

"And that will leave room for a small slice of pumpkin pie?"

"No, that'll leave room for a large slice of pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream and a turkey cookie."

"I don't think I could have eaten like that even when I was your age," I marveled. It was amazing to me how extraordinarily thin she was.

"It's a gift," she said proudly, having no other explanation.

Having finished eating, I stood up and started clearing the leftover food from the table. "You're going to have to take some of this," I told Lorelai. "I won't eat it all in three lifetimes."

"Not a problem," she agreed. "It'll be nice to have some extra food around. Give us a break from Spaghetti-Os and macaroni. Right, Rory?" The little girl giggled.

I smiled. Inviting the girls to Thanksgiving dinner was proving to have been a good thing for all three of us. "I don't know how you can eat Spaghetti-Os," I said as I transferred turkey into a leftover container. "I was never much of a Spaghetti-Os person."

Lorelai laughed. "They grow on you," she said. Almost before I realized it, she was standing beside me scooping mashed potatoes into one of the Tupperware containers I'd set on the table.

"Oh sit," I insisted, "You're my guest."

"Come on Mia, I let you cook everything yourself, how do you expect me to let you clean everything up yourself, too? A girl has to have some fun." She smiled sweetly, her sarcastic tone barely audible under her apparent gratitude.

"Now," I said in a mock-stern tone, "I let you come spend the evening with me, how much fun can you expect to have in one night?"

"Hey, I'm young, I'm not easily satisfied."

I realized that she was far too stubborn to agree not to help, and I gave up trying to persuade her. "Well," I told her, "I do have a system. It's been slowly perfected over the thousands of years that I've been making dinner."

"Wow, Mia," Lorelai interjected facetiously, "I didn't think you were a day over nine hundred and ninety-nine."

"Oh, you're too sweet," I joked.

"Well, tell the sweet girl about the ancient system," she insisted. "I think I'm still young enough to adapt."

"First of all," I said, smiling slightly, "The mashed potatoes go in this container." I held up a deep, round container with a blue lid.

"That just figures, doesn't it?" she said, half-exasperated. "Leave it to me to mess up the system before I know it exists."

"Don't worry about it. Here," I said, handing her a large disposable container. "Put what you want in here. I have more, so if you fill it, just let me know. Don't be afraid to take all the food you want, I won't eat half of this by myself."

"Great, thanks so much," she said genuinely. "Just let me fix my potato mistake first." She spooned the mashed potatoes into the correct container, and proceeded to wash the container she'd mistakenly used.

"Aw, you didn't need to do that," I said as she put the container back on the table.

"It's no problem," she insisted. "I intend to rob you of most of your turkey to make up for it."

"By all means," I told her, my tone a little too serious in comparison with hers.

"You really are too sweet," she said, although not quite in a complimentary way.

"I'll work on it," I promised her. "But not until I get rid of more of this food. Take a few rolls, I bought far too many."

As she obliged, I realized that taking food was the one thing she didn't argue about. I realized painfully that this was probably primarily because she couldn't afford to argue, and made up my mind to push as much food on her as I could manage.

We put away food and chatted idly until most of dinner was cleaned up. I put on coffee to go with the dessert. "I tend to make coffee a little strong for most people," I warned Lorelai. "I'll cut back a little."

"No, strong is good," she insisted. "Make it strong. Coffee should taste like coffee."

"Trust me," I told her, "It will taste like coffee."

"Make it strong," she repeated. "Make it like you'd make it if I wasn't here."

"Okay," I agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "I didn't even like coffee when I was your age," I recalled, as I scooped coffee grounds into my coffeepot.

"I started drinking coffee when I was twelve," she told me.

"Wow. Twelve?"

"Yeah. One of my mother's maids started letting me drink it, and I really didn't like it that much, but when my mother found out, she had a fit. So I kept drinking it."

"Ah. So you drink it purely to drive you mother crazy?"

"At first, yes. Not anymore. I like it now. I guess I acquired a taste for it. Plus, between Rory and working, the caffeine boost really helps."

"Does that mean the present company exhausts you?" I asked playfully, pretending to be shocked.

She laughed, understanding that I was joking. "Oh yeah, you two are pretty tiring," she said.

"Well, we try," I said, smiling. "Right, Rory?" Obediently, the little girl giggled.

"You so have her trained."

I smiled deviously. "Yes, I suppose I do." The coffee done, I poured it and sliced the pie. "You said you wanted a large piece?"

"Perfect," she said.

"I'll cut Rory a little piece, too."

"She'll love you more than me."

"I'm trying." I smiled.

"Well, you know," she said, thinking, "My parents won't spoil her. She needs a grandmother figure."

I was touched that she'd even consider thinking of me in that way. I didn't know what to say. My lips curled into a smile without my direction. I set the pie on the table and sat down. Lorelai did the same. "I'll do my best," I said, breaking eye contact with my pie to look at her.

"You've been great, Mia," Lorelai said seriously. "You didn't have to do any of this. You…" she broke off, but then seemed to regain her train of thought. "Giving me a job, giving us a place to stay, having us over for Thanksgiving… that's way above and beyond the call of duty. All of it. You…" she broke off again. "It's Thanksgiving, right? I mean, really," she looked a little uncomfortable, but continued, "You've given us so much to be thankful for."

I didn't know what I should say, or what she wanted me to say. I wasn't entirely sure what to think. She was a sweet girl. I didn't know why I'd taken an immediate liking to her, but I had. I'd thought I'd needed someone to need me, but I was gradually realizing that it was more than that. She was a friend. "Lorelai…" I started.

"Don't. You don't have to say anything, I just wanted to tell you that. This is amazing pie, by the way," she said, changing the subject.

I smiled. "Thank you, Lorelai." I tried to say the words with a little weight, and I hoped she got that I was thanking her for more than her compliment of my pie.

She smiled back. "You're welcome," she said quietly. She got it.