The hotel room had excellent views and no windowsill.
Ethan had thought about this on the first morning, standing at the floor-to-ceiling glass of the forty-third floor with the city spread below and the thyme and the basil and the rosemary in three small pots arranged on the floor beside the radiator, which was the only flat surface near a light source, which was not the right surface but was what was available.
He had moved into the Langham on a Thursday.
By Friday he had the herbs on the radiator and the Natalie Hale cover of Metropolitan Living face-down on the desk not because he couldn't look at it but because looking at it had become a specific, unproductive habit that he was trying to replace with something else.
He was not yet certain what the something else was.
Richard cal
