Although the sky had faded to a luminous melon green, and the landscape was blurry with mist when it was time to leave New Jersey, they were safely across the Hudson before the storm struck. On arriving back at the house on Fifth Avenue, they had gone their separate ways to dress for dinner. Immediately after the meal, Seth had shut himself in his study, saying he wanted to check a portfolio of new designs. Still not feeling one hundred percent, Sophy had retired for the night. Outside, the wind drove the rain down in heavy sheets that in their turn were dashed away by more gusts of wind—and out of it, the hail, a deafening pounding, bouncing like golf balls from the ground in white streaks. Sophy loved it. It was the perfect excuse to go back to basics. To spend some time making final arrangements for the Thanksgiving menu. To be alone. To think. It was growing more and more difficult to think clearly around Seth. One could think in the kitchen, come to some conclusions. The trouble was, her mind was a blank.
