CHAPTER EIGHT
I stayed an extra day at Elliott’s before leaving for New York. The time gave me a chance to prepare for the trip. Once off the plane, save for a chill to the air, which I felt down to my bones, there was no snow. Also, as Tove, who Elliott insisted on following me to New York, and I made our way through the airport, there was an even more profound difference: I, in a way, vanished. No one noticed me. New York was a stream. The busy locals and visitors moved with the current, and we fell in. No one paid me no peculiar attention nor stop to speak with me. Sure, people looked our way but moved on, and to my joy, we moved too. And in no time, we were at the hired car, then on our way to Dane’s home on the Upper East Side. His place was a stunning five-story neo-Georgian mansion
