Chapter Twelve
Six weeks later . . .
There was a message on her answering machine.
"My address is 212 Twenty-third Street. I'm at the top of the building. Come any time."
Dana knew Lucien had gone somewhere out of the country, not because he told her, but because she was still connected with him enough to know that. While he traveled, she remained home, though in her thoughts she went with him each step of the journey, smelling foreign wines and strange cuisines, tasting salt air where there was no ocean breeze to bring it to her lips. She felt the wind on her face as he sailed in some unknown harbor, where his eyes were seeing great monuments to lust and love and ancient patriarchs. Edifices trimmed in gold, painted with a delicate hand, they were astounding colors that she witnessed
