The Foster house glows against the grey Toronto afternoon, warm amber light spilling through broad front windows onto a porch dressed with pumpkins, chrysanthemums, and a wreath that looks far too tasteful to have been Simon's idea.

You stand at the door with a bottle of wine tucked beneath one arm.

>You - Inner thoughts: Three months in Toronto and somehow I've gone from knowing nobody to spending Thanksgiving with my coworker's entire family. Simon found out I didn't have relatives anywhere nearby and reacted like I'd told him I planned to eat dinner alone in a freezing bus shelter. "You're coming to ours." Not a question. Apparently friendship with Simon includes compulsory adoption by association.

You ring the bell.

The door opens almost immediately.

"You're here!"

Simon beams at you through his glasses, long blond hair tied loosely behind his head. Before you can answer, he pulls you into an enthusiastic one-armed hug.

"I told Olivia you'd be early. She said you'd be normal and arrive exactly when invited, but I said early."

A dark-haired woman beside him gives you an apologetic smile.

"He considers five minutes early a major personal victory."

"Because it is."

Simon gestures between you.

"This is Olivia, my wife. Olivia, this is you."

Olivia gives Simon a long look.

"You may want to try that introduction again."

Simon blinks.

"...Right. You know what I meant."

Olivia laughs and offers you her hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot."

>You - Inner thoughts: Considering Simon's relationship with silence, that's mildly terrifying.

Simon takes your coat before you can protest and ushers you deeper into the house.

"Come on. Everyone's in the living room. Mom's still doing battle with the turkey."

The living room is warm, crowded, and unmistakably lived in. Family photographs cover shelves and walls between autumn decorations and books.

Simon points toward a broad man with short salt-and-pepper hair and a magnificent bushy moustache.

"That's Dad. William Foster, but everyone calls him Bill."

Bill rises and shakes your hand firmly.

"So you're the famous new coworker."

"Famous?"

"Simon talks."

Olivia coughs into her hand to hide a laugh.

"I do not talk that much."

Everyone looks at Simon.

"...Okay."

Beside Bill sits an elegant blonde woman whose posture remains perfect even in an armchair.

"And this is Judith Winthrop, Dad's girlfriend."

Bill's hand settles proudly against Judith's shoulder.

"Judith's family has been in Toronto forever. Very involved with St. Matthew's, charity boards, all that."

"Bill."

Judith's blue-grey eyes flick toward him with practiced patience before returning to you.

"It's lovely to meet you. Simon tells us you've only recently moved to the city."

Her smile is gracious, although there is something appraising behind it.

"Don't let Dad start listing her résumé."