An invitation for every kind of gathering.

Someone ordered a whole crate of blood oranges. We are turning all of it into spritzes.

Ceremony at five, feasting and dancing to follow.

The bartender will make anything you can name.

A trio plays from ten. Wear something with a lapel.

Jackets, please.

No big shower this time. Just cake, and the people who came the first time.

A twilight shower for Nell & Vaughn’s boy.

Same house, same table. Flora adds a card table to the end every year. This year, two.

Drinks are on her. She insisted, and she bills by the hour now.

Tamsin reads from chapter one. The first fifty copies come with a jar of sea salt.

Ten stools facing the stove. She cooks whatever looked best at the market.

Cookies by the dozen, milk by the bottle, and exactly one candle.

Dinner, toasts, and a slideshow of every stamp in her passport.

Park around the corner. She arrives at eight.

Lemons in the pool, rosé on ice. Robes provided.

Whole grilled fish at the long table by the window. The wine is on us.

Mango cake at three. Rum punch and a steel drum until sunset.

Brunch in the meadow, then the fern trail.

Bring the book that made you a reader. We'll start the bedtime shelf.

Bring a children's book with a note inside.

Afternoon tea among the garden roses.

Thirteen years of school, one last bell. Come ring it with him.

He finished a semester early. Come warm up with us before the holidays.

Residency starts in June.

Six years, three research cruises and one defense. The drinks are overdue.

Come as anything you like. The house is old, the punch is strong and the crows are real.

Come for turnip cake and tea, and stay for the lion dance down the block at two.

Spring lamb and the first asparagus of the year. Bring a jacket in case it’s breezy.

Mulled cider and a prize for the best tin.

Bring a pie; store-bought is honorable. Coffee, whipped cream and a vote for best slice.

Parade on the TV, football in the yard, and a turkey that has been brining since Monday.

Bring one ornament that means something. We’ll supply the eggnog and the ladder.

Two pans on the stove and plenty of bread for mopping. Coffee until it runs out.

The last cookout of summer. Ribs on the porch, then peaches from the back orchard.

Twelve tins brought back from Lisbon, opened at the table with good bread.

Everything on the table came out of the woods behind the cabin.

A small dinner, black tie optional. The vodka stays in the freezer until the last minute.

Guess the grape and the country. The winner takes home the best bottle.

Knock twice on the bookcase. The password comes by text the night before.

The cherries have been soaking in brandy since August. Ask the bartender for Orsolya.

Fresh-pressed sodas and shrubs. Nobody will ask why you’re not drinking.

Dress in silver and black. The shaker is older than the building.

A supper-club throwback. Shrimp on ice in the good coupes, and Sinatra on the hi-fi.

Dinner, then dancing; Mateo has practiced.

Same booth as our first date. Abe is buying the first round.

Desmond still tells it differently. Come hear both versions.

An old tradition for a new home. Mikhail is baking.

Speeches limited to three minutes. Harold insists.

$20 buy-in. Frankie deals. Losers do the dishes.

Four boards, one fire, no blitz.

Bring a photo from senior year for the memory wall.

Melbourne on Tuesday. Say goodbye properly.

1,140 homes in 25 years. Coffee is on us.

Two board seats are open and the plow contract is up. Bring mittens; we’ll bring the cocoa.

Eight wheels. Clay and glazes are included; aprons are strongly advised.

Forty minutes, then your questions.

Meet the makers two blocks over. Bring a card, not a pitch; first pour at 7:30.

The roses will be at their peak.

Aunt Rosamund is finally using the good china.

Golden hour on the patio, tacos after.

We're cycling there.

Twelve of us, then the long table.

Wear your brightest; the aunties will.

The dance floor is dirt.

Limoncello at dusk.