“We’re making brownies now and we’re licking the batter from the bowl. We have 4 minutes until we can taste that,” Pinkie says of the lemon bars baking in the oven. “No.” Annie says. “Like 9 minutes?” she asks. “No, they won’t be cooled off yet.” “Like 50?” she persists. “Mmm hmm…” Annie caves, absentmindedly. I’m sitting at the booth table in the kitchen on Florentia Street, in Seattle, Washington. Annie and Pinkie lick brownie batter from a bowl, and Cait tools around in the kitchen. We’ve just declared Thanksgiving Stone Soup our new tradition, inspired by 1 st grade; Pinkie picked the rock from Cait’s yard. Pinkie started too early, but the rest of us patiently went around the table, said what we were thankful for, mostly being together: friendship, food, family. It’s scary, starting fresh in a new town, but Cait did it anyway, moved up a few months ago , and being here IS better, for her. And now we are here , are all together. Cait ...