The smell of sautéed garlic and lemon welcomed them before they even arrived. They found Fran already working on dinner, an array of vegetables and oils spread out on the countertop in front of her.
“Your father says he is going vegan again, but I’m not letting this perfectly good salmon go to waste,” she mumbled in greeting.
“Fran, this is my friend Nadine. Nadine, this is Fran,” Emma said, leaning against the island and eyeing the platters of food already prepared. God, she was starving. “Can we set another place for her tonight?”
“Of course! Someone needs to eat this,” Fran snapped. She paused, catching herself. “Nice to meet you, Nadine.” She smiled at the young woman while at the same time slapping Emma’s hand away from the basket of freshly baked whole wheat rolls.
“Ow!” Emma protested, grabbing one anyway.
“God help me,” Fran murmured, turning away from them to return to the lemon jus.
Emma ushered Nadine upstairs to her room and quickly got to work putting together an outfit to replace her coffee-stained sweatshirt. Yes, all Nadine really needed was the pale pink Alexander McQueen cashmere sweater, but it really didn’t go with her pants, so it only made sense to pair it with Khaite cropped jeans and Emma’s favorite vintage belt.
By the time they arrived back in the kitchen, Nadine looked like a new woman. And it wasn’t just the clothes. Emma had to admit that even without her help, Nadine was beautiful. Yes, her disjointed blonde highlights were obviously from a box, but that was nothing a trip to Emma’s salon couldn’t fix. And her large blue eyes would really pop once Emma taught her how to do a proper cat-eye. She was gorgeous—she just needed an artist to refine the masterpiece.
Mrs. Pawloski had already arrived and was cackling next to Emma’s father at the now fully set kitchen table.
“Dad, Mrs. Pawloski,” Emma said. “I’d like you to meet my friend Nadine. She goes to school with—”
“Nadine! Oh, so wonderful to meet you! Good Lord, aren’t you gorgeous!” Mrs. Pawloski exclaimed, already on her feet andstarting toward them. Emma wanted to cringe when she saw the older woman wearing her usual bouclé jacket. At this point it was so worn and faded that it was barely recognizable as vintage Chanel. Thankfully, Mrs. Pawloski enveloped Nadine in a hug so quickly, Emma doubted her new friend even noticed.
A few minutes later, Ben and Margo appeared, offering Nadine a warm welcome before they all took a seat at the table. Wine was poured and Nadine smiled and, for the first time since Emma had met her, looked truly relaxed. Emma couldn’t have been more proud.
“Akron? Ohio?” Mr. Woodhouse asked, staring across the table in wide-eyed disbelief as they began to pass around the poached salmon and sautéed green beans.
Nadine nodded, taking a huge bite of her bread.
The French doors to the back garden were open, letting in the last gasps of summer, which were at odds with a few trees already turning yellow and orange on the edge of the yard.
“Oh, I went to Ohio once!” Mrs. Pawloski said. “Remember, Henry? Burt decided he wanted to celebrate our tenth anniversary by driving across the country, so he bought an RV and we made it as far as Ohio! And I swear to God, the town was called London! Can you believe it? Burt said, ‘Now you can tell all your friends I took you to London for vacation!’?”
She dissolved into laughter so loud that Emma almost missed the sound of footsteps from the far end of the yard. She looked out just as a tall figure appeared through the trees. His usual suit and tie were gone, replaced by a pair of worn jeans that rested low on his hips and a faded gray T-shirt.
“Sorry I’m late,” Knightley called out as he approached.
“Oh, so youarealive,” Emma replied.
He gave her a placating grin when he reached them, leaning down to give Mrs. Pawloski a kiss on the cheek. Then there wasa wave to Mr. Woodhouse at the head of the table and hugs for Margo and Ben before he sat down at the opposite end, next to Emma. It was only then that he noticed Nadine, and the smile went from placating to sincere.
“Hello,” he said.
Nadine smiled broadly.
“Nadine, this is George Knightley,” said Emma, motioning in his direction. “Knightley, this is Nadine Pittman. She’s in grad school at NYU with me.”
“Hi,” Nadine replied around the bread in her mouth.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Knightley said. “I thought all of Emma’s friends were abroad.”
“Nadine just moved here from Ohio,” Emma corrected him.
“Ah.”
“Were you… gardening out there or…” Nadine asked, pointing to the yard.
He chuckled softly. “No. I live in the house right there past the trees. Our yards back up to one another.”
The lights were on at the Knightley house, so its massive black-framed windows could be seen through the low branches. Nadine gaped.
