Emma found her stomach in a peculiar knot as she watched the two men in front of her exchange words that sounded cordial but felt loaded.
“Drink? Who would like another drink? Whiskey sour?” she interjected with manufactured enthusiasm, motioning over to the bar cart as she looked back and forth between the two of them.
“What’s a Manhattan dinner party without a proper whiskey sour?” Montgomery said. “I’d love one.”
“Knightley?” Emma asked.
He stared at her a moment, then held up his full glass.
“All set here,” he said slowly, a subtle finality in his tone. Emma forced a smile, then turned her attention to the drinks.
Montgomery leaned lazily against the bar cart and watched Emma pour the bourbon and fresh lemon juice Fran had prepared for the party.
“That’s quite a lot of bourbon,” he murmured so only she could hear. “Trying to get me drunk?”
She laughed, blushing as she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and handed him the glass.
After a few cocktails—and Mrs. Pawloski’s oral history of all the ornaments on the Woodhouses’ tree—Ben directed everyone down the hall for dinner.
They rarely used the formal dining room for Sunday dinner, and Emma could feel Knightley’s gaze directed at her, but she ignored it as she took her seat. The large mahogany dining table was decorated elegantly with gold chargers underneath white china plates. Metallic-dipped candles cast a soft glow on the centerpiece of real pine cones. The entire scene was framed by the family’s various oil paintings hanging on the fleur-de-lis wallpaper.
Ben was clearly in his element as he began to serve dinner: grilled coppa pork with chimichurri. On the side were roasted pumpkin wedges drizzled with maple syrup and a simple salad of soft lettuces with a shallot vinaigrette. As they ate, Ben explained their plans for the new restaurant. The menu, the decor, and how if it wasn’t for Montgomery bringing in the investors and securing the space, none of it would be happening.
“We should have it up and running by summer,” Ben added. “Maybe a soft opening even sooner.”
“How exciting!” Mrs. Pawloski squealed.
“And you think Ben’s restaurant is a good idea?” Mr. Woodhouseasked, his attention on his plate as he picked at a pumpkin wedge suspiciously.
“Dad…” Margo rolled her eyes.
“What?” Mr. Woodhouse asked, genuinely confused.
Montgomery smiled. “Ben has passion. And that is always the start of a good idea.”
Ben raised his glass to Montgomery and they clinked them together, both laughing as if there was some inside joke the rest of the table wasn’t privy to.
“I can’t believe you had to miss the wedding!” Mrs. Pawloski lamented yet again. “You must have been heartbroken. Just heartbroken!”
“And the engagement party,” Knightley added.
“Oh! That’s right!” Mrs. Pawloski exclaimed. “You must be so busy! Where does your work take you?”
“Oh, too many places to count,” Montgomery said with a sigh. “I wouldn’t want to bore you all.”
Mrs. Pawloski laughed. Only Emma heard the scoff that escaped Knightley’s lips.
“But,” Montgomery continued, “I really want to apologize for missing so much. I was in the weeds dealing with a few projects overseas. At some point, you just have to be able to walk away. I pride myself on that. I know when a deal is working and I know when it’s time to cut bait.”
“That sounds very stressful,” Mrs. Pawloski said, leaning her head in her hand as she stared at him.
“It’s part of the job. I have to make tough decisions daily.”
“So how long are you staying?” Knightley asked, his tone flat.
The table’s attention turned back to Montgomery. He just shrugged.
“I haven’t decided. But New York has treated me well so far, so we’ll see,” he replied, stealing a glance at Emma as he took a sip of his drink.
