The 18th century mansion is bustling with people when the doorbell rings at around four-thirty. Holden is nearby and waves his mother off, rushing to answer the door. His smile grows wider at the sight of Celia and Maggie. He grabs Celia by the waist and holds her in a bear hug, twirling her around and revelling in her infectious giggle.

"Put me down!" She squealed, and Holden reluctantly obliged. "Jesus, it was only last week you saw me!"

"I can't be excited to see my favourite songwriter?" Holden replied as he moved aside to offer Maggie a one-armed hug, avoiding the pumpkin pie in her arms. "And my favourite saxophone player, glad y'all could make it."

"We're your only songwriter and sax player, but I appreciate the sentiment," Celia said, rolling her eyes with a grin.

Celia's deal with Benedict involved a merger of The Comettes and The Osprey. Celia is the official songwriter for Holden, whilst Maggie plays the saxophone, and Barbara and Ruth became official backup singers for Holden. It worked like a charm, and Holden is still proud of Celia to this day for sticking up for her girls.

"Oh, is that Maggie and Celia!?" Lorraine hollered as she hurried towards the foyer, wiping her hands on her apron. "Come in, you'll catch a cold in this rain!" She cooed, closing the door behind them.

"My mother insisted I bring one of the extra pies she made. Not to brag, but her pies are amazing," Maggie said with a casual shrug.

"Oh, thank you, sweetpea! It smells delicious," Lorraine replied.

"It's the least we can do. Thank you again for inviting us, Mrs. Beauregard," Celia said with a smile as she removed her raincoat and handed it to Holden.

"None of that, I've known you girls too long for formalities. Just call me Lorraine, or Lori."

Celia gives a salute. "Roger that."

"Where do you want me to put the pie?" Maggie inquired, lifting the pie in her arms.

"Oh, there's a table set up in the dining room for desserts. We have a buffet since there's so many people," Lorraine explained, leading Maggie toward the dining room.

The party swells as the hours go on, with music and laughter, and people grabbing food to eat when hungry. After the rain stops, everyone shuffles outside in the humid air, enjoying the cool breeze from the north. They sit around a fire pit, Travis with a guitar in his hand as he strums idly. Jasper has his girl, Polly, on his lap, chuckling at something she whispers in his ear. Preston drinks a beer, listening intently to a story Ruth and Barbara share. Celia, Maggie, and Holden sing along with Travis' tune, and Lorraine watches with admiration.

"Glad y'all could make it tonight," Lorraine said to the remaining people at the party. "It's always nice having y'all together at once.

"Yeah, thanks again for inviting everyone, Mrs... I mean, Lorraine," Celia replied with rose-tinted cheeks.

"Did y'all have a fun Thanksgiving with your families yet or was this your first outing this weekend?" Lorraine inquired. The group replied with varying responses, all replying with yeses—all but Celia, who boasts about Maggie's family and her mother's pie.

"When do you plan on celebrating with your family?" Lorraine asked. The girls go silent, all exchanging worried looks.

"Oh, um, I've been celebrating with the Cooper family since I was fourteen," Celia replied cryptically.

"Oh, I see... My apologies," Lorraine added with rosy cheeks. "I didn't mean to assume—"

"It's okay," Celia interrupted. "You didn't know..."

Holden recalls an unfinished conversation with Celia over a year ago, and he watches her with a lifted brow as the conversation resumes unscathed. Keeping his eyes on her as the night goes on, he finally catches her alone in the kitchen washing dishes.

Holden leans casually in the doorway and folds his arms over his chest. "Hey, do ya know where my mama's at?"

"She's cleaning the dining room. I offered to help with the dishes," Celia replied over her shoulder.

Holden rolls his sleeves and joins her, grabbing the wet dishes from the rack and drying them with the towel. "I thought you only moved in with Maggie's family when you were sixteen."

Celia nearly drops the plate in the sink. "You're correct. I did."

"But you've been celebratin' Thanksgiving with them since you were fourteen?" Holden asked, his voice low.

Celia shuts off the tap and hands him the plate. "I rarely stayed at a foster house long enough to celebrate the holidays. The nuns used to celebrate the holidays at the orphanage, though," Celia revealed, carefully crafting her words with deliberation.

"How long were you livin' like that?" Holden whispered as he dried the plate.

"As long as I can remember," Celia replied with a shrug. "Have I not told you?"

"No," Holden said with down-turned lips. "I knew you were in foster care growing up, but you never really said for how long...or why."

"The nuns told me my parents are unknown. I was left on the doorstep of a local church. It was the priest that brought me to the orphanage. I was only a baby."

"Jesus." Holden flicked the towel on the counter. "Ceil, I'm so sorry—"

"It's fine, Denny." Holden chuckled at the nickname, smacking her with the towel. The two giggle like children before they're interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Maggie's lookin' for ya Celia. Said somethin' about wanting to go for the night," Lorraine said.

Celia smiles and nods. "Oh, okay. Thank you. I'll be there in a bit." Celia turned and grabbed Holden by the wrist, tugging him down to kiss his cheek. "See ya in the studio, Denny."

"Night, Ceil," he mumbled with a grin. She practically skipps out of the kitchen, stopping to hug Lorraine before she leaves.

"What a nice girl," Lorraine said after a beat of silence, wandering towards the sink to continue where Celia left off.

"Yeah, she's the best," Holden replied, still grinning as he picked up the towel to continue drying dishes alongside his mother.

"Any man would be lucky to have her as their wife," his mother said with an air of nonchalance.

Holden hums non-committal, his smile fading into a frown. "Yeah, I suppose so..."

"There's no need to beat around the bush, baby," Lorraine said, scrubbing a plate. "I can see the way you look at her. I have eyes and a brain in my noggin."

"Mama!" Holden gaped at her. "I don't know what you're talkin' about... We're just good friends..."

"I ain't no idjit, and don't treat me like one," his mother scolded with a frown. "It's okay, sweetpea. All I was gettin' at is that I'd be okay with it if you went with her."

Holden chuckled. "I appreciate the sentiment, mama, but I ain't askin' her nothin'. We work together. We're friends. That's all we'll ever be, okay?"

"Whatever you say, baby..." his mother replied with a shrug and raised brows.