Washington Irving Elementary closed at 1:00 on Wednesday for the start of Thanksgiving vacation. Four and a half entire days, Ellie thought, of being at home, where people could see her. So what if home was Witch Tree Lane, where Bad Things happened and the ladies were thinking of moving and no one knew who had poisoned Pumpkin. It was still home, and Ellie felt a little rush of hope as the bus reached the corner of her street.

When she hopped down the steps that afternoon with the rest of the Witch Tree Lane kids, Ellie was relieved to see Doris's car in the Dingman's driveway. Good. That meant she and Doris could get right to work on Thanksgiving dinner. Doris had been so quiet and moody since Friday that Ellie hadn't dared ask her about cooking. Earlier, before last Friday, which, Ellie realized, seemed like years and years ago, she had thought of asking if maybe Nan and Poppy could come for Thanksgiving. But no one had so much as spoken about the holiday since the weekend. Maybe next year, Ellie had thought. Next year Nan and Poppy could come. For now, her hopes rose for at least a nice meal for the five Dingmans.

Ellie and Albert and Marie ran up their porch steps and inside their house, Marie calling, "Doris! Doris!"

No answer.

"Doris?" Marie called again.

"She must be upstairs," said Albert, and the Dingman children ran to their parents' bedroom to check.

No Doris.

"Well, the car's here, said Ellie. "Let's go back downstairs."

They found Doris in the kitchen, sitting at the table, the phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder, writing furiously on a small pad of paper.

"Doris! We didn't know where you were!" exclaimed Marie."

"Shh-SHHHH!" was Doris's reply. "I'm on the phone here."

"Excuse us for living," Albert said, and walked out of the kitchen, followed by Marie.

Ellie, now feeling crabby, dropped her book bag on the floor and stood by the table, arms crossed, facing Doris.

Doris continued writing. "Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, m-hmm," she muttered. Scribble, scribble, scribble.

"Mm-hmm…When?…Okay." She glanced up and saw Ellie, then returned to her pad of paper. "Mm-hmm…Just a moment, please." Doris cupped her hand over the receiver. "Eleanor, what?" she said.

Ellie looked pointedly from Doris to the John's Auto Parts calendar on the wall and back to Doris.

"What is it?" said Doris.

"Tomorrow is Thanksgiving," Ellie said in a loud whisper, although she didn't know why the person on the other end of the phone shouldn't hear her say this.

"Eleanor, please. I'll be off the phone in a minute." Doris returned to her conversation, and Ellie opened the refrigerator and surveyed the contents. Suddenly she felt slightly sick. She saw a package of bologna and another of cheese. She saw an open container of milk and a slice of meat loaf in Saran Wrap. There were a few other things, too – ketchup and mayonnaise and grape jelly and half an apple. But where was the turkey? Where was the apple pie Doris always bought at the A&P? Where were the potatoes?

Ellie closed the refrigerator and opened a cupboard. No cans of corn or peas or aspic. No jars of olives or pickles. Quietly she closed the cupboard and turned around to face Doris again, just as Doris said, "Okay, thank you. ‘Bye," and hung up the phone.

"Um," Ellie said, not sure what to be more nervous about – the fact that she had interrupted Doris's phone conversation, or the fact that Doris was completely unprepared for Thanksgiving. "I thought you might have gone to the grocery store today." And then a thought struck Ellie. Maybe Doris was waiting for the Dingman children to come home so they could all go to the store together.

"I know," Doris said vaguely, looking at her note. "I meant to." She slipped the pad in her pocket.

"Well?" said Ellie.

"Well, what?"

"Thanks. Giv. Ing. You know, getting a turkey? Cooking?"

"Oh Eleanor, I'm just not up to all that this year." Doris paused, then put on a broad smile. "I had a great idea this afternoon. We're going to have Thanksgiving dinner at the Starlight Diner. Won't that be fun?"

"The Starlight Diner?!" cried Ellie. "Will they even be open?"

"Yes. I checked. Won't that be fun?" Doris said again.

"Who goes to a diner for Thanksgiving?"

"Lots of people."

"Have you told Dad yet?"

"I'm going to tell him tonight.