“Ugh, I can’t eat.” Margo stared at the stove as if it had personally insulted her.
“Here try this one,” Ben said, his dark brown eyes sparkling,oblivious to his wife’s moaning as he put a plate of food in front of Nadine. “I added more cream sauce. What do you think?”
Nadine took a bite and slowly perked up. “That’s really good.”
“Have some more slushie, too.”
Ben’s food was the answer to everything. Nadine ate and drank and as her cheeks started to flush, Emma relaxed, finally seeing her friend’s mind distracted.
“Did you tell Emma the news?” Margo asked Ben.
“Oh, right!” He turned from the stove to wag his eyebrows at Emma. “Knox is in town. Stopped by the other day to talk about the restaurant.”
“So he’s not your imaginary friend!” Emma shot him a wry smile.
Ben flipped her off and then went back to his risotto.
“You haven’t heard the best part,” Margo said. “He’s right on 83rd! He’s renting Mr. and Mrs. Crawford’s old place.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”
“You should stop by.” Margo flashed her brightest smile at her sister. “Just go introduce yourself. Invite him to the Christmas party.”
“Assuming he’ll still be in town by then,” Emma murmured, taking another bite of food.
“Be nice. He’s interesting and charming—”
“As you’ve mentioned, like, a thousand times.” Emma rolled her eyes. When Margo shot her a glare, she sighed. “All right fine, I’ll stop by.”
She would stop by Montgomery Knox’s home and play nice. She might even forgive him for avoiding them for so long, but she wouldn’t pretend to be blind to what Margo was up to. Leave it to her sister to decide that Emma needed to be in a committed relationship just as Emma realized that she didn’t.
CHAPTER 14
Emma decided to go see Montgomery Knox the next day. It was like a Band-Aid, she reasoned: better to just rip it off and get it over with. Besides, it was Sunday, which meant that if she timed it right, she wouldn’t have to stay long because of Sunday dinner. It was the perfect plan.
She put on a pair of leggings and an oversized V-neck sweater before throwing her dark hair into a messy bun, unbothered by the strands that fell around her face. Then she made her way downstairs, where her father was reading the morning paper in the kitchen. They sat in comfortable silence for a while as Emma looked out the window. Knightley’s house was still dark; he was supposed to get back from California this morning. Maybe she would stop by after meeting the new neighbor.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a roar from outside, the sound of an engine and brakes echoing from the street.
“Is that a motorcycle?” she asked, craning her neck to listen.
“So unsafe,” her father murmured, not looking up from his paper.
“Do they have to be so loud? I mean, is there a rule that if you have a motorcycle you need to announce it to the world?”
“Do you know that New Hampshire has no motorcycle helmet law? For anyone. None.” Emma’s father sighed, shaking his head.
“Just the worst,” she mumbled.
Her father hummed.
“So,” she continued, drumming her fingers on the table. “Margo wants me to invite that friend of Ben’s to the Christmas party.”
“Who?”
“Montgomery Knox. The one who missed the wedding. Apparently, he moved into the Crawfords’ house.”
Mr. Woodhouse stared at her like he didn’t remember but was unbothered by the fact. Then he turned his attention back to theTimes.
