New York - The Novel

sun.
    She loved the way that, when you walked in Soho, they hovered over the line of the rooftops, graceful as the towers of a cathedral.
    The World Financial Center was approaching on their right, and Liberty Street was just ahead. Rick slowed the car to drop her off.

    At 6:45 that morning, Gorham went into the living room. Spreading some wrapping paper on the floor, he carefully took the Motherwell drawing down from the wall, folded the paper around it, and taped it. Maggie was still in the shower. He wondered whether she’d notice it was gone before she left for the office. She mightn’t be very pleased, but that was too bad. The drawing really didn’t belong to them. Putting it under his arm, he left the building.
    Sarah Adler was already waiting for him at the Regency, and they went straight into breakfast. She was looking very fresh and businesslike, wearing a cream-colored coat and skirt outfit, very simple and elegant, and carrying a briefcase.
    She was going to see a small finance house, she explained, that wanted to start an art collection they could display on their office walls. Before considering the deal, she had to take a look at the space, and the partners.
    “What will you be looking for?” he asked.
    “Whether they are good enough for my artists,” she answered firmly.
    When he handed over the parcel and confessed with some embarrassment that the Motherwell had been gracing his living-room wall for more than thirty years, she was greatly amused.
    “Of course you didn’t want to part with it,” she said. “I’m so glad that you liked it too. Did you know that it was I who gave it to your father originally?”
    No, he admitted, he did not.
    “And you know nothing about my relationship with your father?”
    Again, he had to admit his ignorance.
    “Do you remember the girl from Brooklyn in his book,
Verrazano Narrows?”
    “Certainly.”
    “Well, that was me.”
    It did not take Sarah long to tell him the story. “I’ve never told my husband. I have had a very happy marriage, but every woman likes to have her secrets. And then, after the book became so famous, I didn’t want myhusband’s patients saying, ‘Oh, his wife is the girl in that book.’ Not in those days, anyway. Your father was very discreet, also. He was a good man.”
    “It seemed from the book that you were very close.”
    “He wanted to marry me, and I nearly accepted. I would have been your stepmother. What do you think of that?”
    “I think it would have been wonderful.”
    “Maybe. It was difficult in those days.” She looked thoughtful. “Your father was a remarkable man, in his way. For someone like Charlie to want to marry a girl from Brooklyn, from a family of Conservative Jews, even, in those days … Charlie was a man of large mind.”
    “I guess he was. I loved my father, but I suppose I was a little disappointed as well. I think he might have made more of his life. Perhaps if he’d married you he would have.”
    “Who can say?” Sarah Adler shrugged. “I have lived too long to believe you can predict what people will do. But your father’s book will be read for a long time. He will be remembered. Do we remember any of your other ancestors?”
    “Maybe not.”
    “You look like him, you know. You remind me of him.”
    “I think we’re very different.”
    Sarah Adler reached down to her briefcase. She opened it and took something out.
    “Do you know what this is?” she asked. “Looks like an Indian belt of some kind.”
    “It is. A wampum belt.” She spread it out. “Look at the design. Isn’t it wonderful?” She gazed at it. “The design says something, of course—though we don’t know what—but it’s also a piece of pure abstract art. This was an heirloom in your family, you know. Yet Charlie gave it to me. He had it framed, but the frame’s rather big, so I took it out to bring you this morning. I think you should have it.”
    “I couldn’t take it from you—it must have such memories.”
    “It has, but I’d like you to have it. I’m returning it to the family, just as you are returning the drawing.” She smiled. “The cycle is complete.”
    Gorham said nothing. He suddenly thought of the gap on the living-room wall where the Motherwell had been, and wondered if the wampum belt would go there. He didn’t think so. Then it occurred to him that if hismarriage fell apart, perhaps he wouldn’t be seeing so much of that living-room wall anyway.
    Sarah Adler was looking