Nadine beamed.
The manager appeared then and introduced himself before leading them to the different private rooms within the restaurant that were available for parties. The final option was the Central Park Room, and as soon as the manager opened the doors, the trio gasped. The wood-paneled walls made the large space feel intimate, while natural light streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
“This is it,” Margo said.
“Do we need this much space?” Emma replied. Though beautiful, the room was clearly intended for large parties, not a birthday brunch for just a dozen or so people.
“Oh please. This is an event. With one long table in the center, it will be perfect,” her sister declared. Then she turned to the manager, explaining what she had in mind.
Not long after, they were seated in the main dining room, ordering lunch while poring over various binders full of table setting and floral arrangement options.
“God, this is crazy. My last birthday party back home was a take-out taco night at my friend’s studio apartment,” Nadine joked, taking a long sip from her mimosa.
“It’s tradition,” Emma replied, pausing over a selection of jewel-toned napkins as she considered. “Well, it used to be. When our father throws something, he likes it to feel like the old days, when people dressed up and made an occasion out of things.”
“In those rare moments when he leaves the house.” Margo winked at Nadine.
Emma abandoned the napkins and picked up the flower book, flipping through the pages before eventually deciding on simple yellow forsythias and branches.
“I love these,” Emma said, holding up the picture. “We could put these in crystal vases on the communal table.”
Nadine’s eyes grew wide. “Those are so pretty.”
“Hmm, not the white roses?” Margo asked, making a face.
Emma frowned. “Roses are a little formal, don’t you think?”
Her sister shrugged—the same shrug that told Emma that she didn’t agree but wouldn’t argue—and jotted something down in her notebook. She kept track of the rest of their choices too, and after they had gone through every possible binder the restaurant had to offer, Emma wondered if Margo really needed her there at all.
“Now we just have to do the guest list,” her sister finally said.
Emma wanted to groan. She was hoping to avoid this. “Okay.”
“The usual Sunday dinner crew, obviously,” Margo mused. “And the Crawfords are coming up from Florida.”
“Right.”
“Oh, and Davina Sundar. Dad said Knightley wanted to invite her, too, right?”
“Well—”
“He’s really bringing Davina?” Nadine asked, her expression dropping slightly.
Margo didn’t seem to find the question worth answering as shepored over her notebook. “So that just leaves the seating arrangements,” she said, almost to herself.
Emma cocked her head to the side. “I don’t know if we need a seating arran—”
“Montgomery can sit next to you,” she said, pointing her pencil at her sister.
Emma blinked. “We’re inviting Montgomery?”
“Of course we’re inviting Montgomery. I mean, you like him, right?”
“I don’t know,” Emma started. “He’s great… but—”
“Isn’t he great?” Margo squealed, squeezing Emma’s forearm before turning to Nadine. “Don’t you think so?”
“Oh yes. He’s… the life of the party.” Nadine’s eyes darted between them, and she took a sip of her drink.
