62: Intrepid

Lifting away the drawing room’s sheers, Evelyn looked out over the Ambassador’s wide lawns and gardens visible from their upper story hotel suite. Behind her, Andrew answered the door, standing aside so that room service could deliver their breakfast.

Outside, the wind whipped across the open spaces in waves, flattening the grass and sending leaves and debris flying like shrapnel. Overhead, the sky roiled with dark threatening thunderheads. “Is it always like this in autumn?” Evelyn asked as Andrew joined her at the window, then slid a large warm hand around her narrow waist. “Yesterday, it was so bright it was almost hot. Today, the weather turns on a dime. Same thing last week. It’s like spring in New York, though at least it’s not snow.”

“Sir?”

Releasing her, Andrew took the offered tab from their delivery person and signed it, then handed the young man a cash tip. “Thank you.”

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