Saturday morning arrived in Brooklyn Heights with a gentle, golden warmth that felt more like late Indian summer than November. The historic, tree-lined sidewalks of Willow Street were blanketed in crisp russet and amber leaves that rustled softly in the morning breeze coming off the harbor. Inside the grand three-story brick-and-brownstone townhouse that had belonged to the Montgomery family for three generations, the kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering aromas…
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