“But you never fit in. That was always the problem with you.” His voice had taken on the tone of a reasonable man stating observable facts, the way you might describe the weather. “You don’t know how to dress for events. You don’t know how to speak to investors. You still get nervous at dinners, for God’s sake. You have this way of sitting that looks—” he paused, choosing, “—provincial. And people notice. My people notice.”
From the side of the room, without looking up from her phone, Vanessa murmured, “She really does.”
Emily looked at Vanessa for a moment. Vanessa did not look back.
“Those meals she cooked,” Vanessa continued, flicking through whatever was on her screen, “when she would insist on cooking for business dinners instead of using a caterer. Embarrassing. Truly.”
Ethan let out a short laugh. It was the laugh of a man who enjoys confirmation.