Part 28 (2/2)

there were vendors selling hot dogs and soft drinks and ice cream which

the pedestrians snapped up as the temperature soared outside the cool

coc.o.o.n of the limo. There was a nervy aggression to the traffic that

Emma didn't understand but enjoyed.

Unruffled, and proper in his tan uniform and stiff-brimmed hat, the

driver pulled to the curb. He didn't think much of music himself,

unless it was Frank Sinatra or Rosemary Clooney, but he was sure his two

teenagers would go wild when he brought them home autographs at the end

of his two-day job.

”Here we are, ma'am.”

”Oh.” A little dazed, Bev stared out the window.

”The Empire State Building,” he explained with a gesture toward the

doors. ”Would you like me to pick you up in an hour?”

”An hour, yes.” Bev took Emma's hand firmly in hers when the driver

opened the door. ”Come on, Emma. Devastation's not going to the top

alone.”

There was a long, winding line, with wailing babies and whining

children. They started at the end, two bodyguards silently falling in

behind, and were soon swallowed up. A group of French students filed in

seconds later, all carrying Macy's shopping bags and talking in their

fast, flowing language. Amid the mix of perfume, sweat, and wet

diapers, Emma caught the dreamy aroma of pot. No one else seemed to

notice or care. They were shuffled onto an elevator.

Long, stuffy minutes later, they were led off to wait again. She didn't

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