the room.
They encountered no one of note as they proceeded downstairs to the Millennium Club's entrance, at which Mr. Bertram was standing.
"I have seen him at the Club," Sierra told Astor. "Max knows him, too."
Astor nodded.
"Hello," Bertram said to Max and Sierra. "Mr. Astor, I do not believe we have met. My name is Reginald Bertram."
"The pleasure is all mine," Astor said with a bright smile, and shook Bertram's hand.
"You're not going out there like that?" Bertram said, a little appalled. "We had a blizzard here 11 days ago – 'The Snow King,' it's being called – 16 inches in Central Park, and one of the coldest days on record."
Max had already opened the front door. A frigid face-numbing blast confirmed what Bertram was saying.
"Where can we get some warm clothing?" Sierra asked and shivered.
"The Club has a nice selection of overcoats," Bertram replied. "I don't know if they'll suit your style, but they're well packed wool, and you can borrow them for as long as you like."
"That would be wonderful, thank you," Sierra said.
"Would you like to come with me?" Bertram asked. "Or, it might be faster if I just pick three coats out for you." He eyed Sierra, Max, and Astor. "I have a good eye for size and fit – I was a haberdasher in London, before the Parthenon Club hired me away!"
"You choose, by all means," Sierra said. Max and Astor nodded agreement, and Bertram left to get the overcoats.
"One of the hazards of temporal travel in intemperate climates," Sierra said. "We never had such problems in Athens or Alexandria."
A group of men entered. One, with a moustache, thick head of hair, and a pair of spectacles attached to his vest with a silver chain, instructed a younger man who was holding the door open while he scraped the snow off of his boots. "Shut that door, man – you'll make it feel like Siberia inside the Club!"
The man apologized and complied.
"J. P.!" Astor said with delight and pumped the extended hand.
"Jack," J. P. said more sedately. "You look younger every time I see you."
Astor laughed. "These are my friends, Sierra Waters and Maxwell Marcus, just returned from Egypt."
"I ought to go there one of these days," J. P. said, shaking hands with Max and gently squeezing Sierra's. "I have business upstairs, even though no business is allowed in the Club," he said and he took his leave.
"J. P. Morgan," Astor whispered to Sierra and Max. "He financed Thomas Edison a few years ago – actually, more than a few years ago, now. Tesla was furious ."
Bertram appeared with the overcoats. "I think this greatcoat should suit you," he said to Sierra, and graciously dressed her in a deep beige coat with a cloak. "This should keep you warm as toast."
"Thank you," Sierra said.
Bertram did the same to Max, who received a stylish dark grey greatcoat.
Astor looked on approvingly, beaming at Sierra and Max. He put his arms through the black greatcoat Bertram extended to him.
A man appeared with three hats. "Thank you," Bertram said to the man, then to Sierra, Max, and Astor, "I can't let you go out into this cold with bare heads."
"Thank you," Astor said again, and took the black hat, with wide brim and flat crown, offered to him. Max did the same.
Sierra's was even more stylish, and mauve.
"Return all of this whenever convenient," Bertram said, and left with the hat bearer.
Sierra, Max, and Astor said thanks again, and walked out into the street. The cold hit their noses, unprotected by the greatcoats and hats.
"Let's proceed up to Wave Hill," Astor said, his breaths forming visible puffs in the icy air. "The trains from Grand Central run frequently."
"Should we call first?" Max asked.
"Not necessary," Astor replied. "I'm sure William will be happy to see us."
***
Astor professed to find the seven-block walk south to Grand Central Terminal invigorating. Sierra was happy that most of the snow had been cleared. But all three had to walk as close to the
They encountered no one of note as they proceeded downstairs to the Millennium Club's entrance, at which Mr. Bertram was standing.
"I have seen him at the Club," Sierra told Astor. "Max knows him, too."
Astor nodded.
"Hello," Bertram said to Max and Sierra. "Mr. Astor, I do not believe we have met. My name is Reginald Bertram."
"The pleasure is all mine," Astor said with a bright smile, and shook Bertram's hand.
"You're not going out there like that?" Bertram said, a little appalled. "We had a blizzard here 11 days ago – 'The Snow King,' it's being called – 16 inches in Central Park, and one of the coldest days on record."
Max had already opened the front door. A frigid face-numbing blast confirmed what Bertram was saying.
"Where can we get some warm clothing?" Sierra asked and shivered.
"The Club has a nice selection of overcoats," Bertram replied. "I don't know if they'll suit your style, but they're well packed wool, and you can borrow them for as long as you like."
"That would be wonderful, thank you," Sierra said.
"Would you like to come with me?" Bertram asked. "Or, it might be faster if I just pick three coats out for you." He eyed Sierra, Max, and Astor. "I have a good eye for size and fit – I was a haberdasher in London, before the Parthenon Club hired me away!"
"You choose, by all means," Sierra said. Max and Astor nodded agreement, and Bertram left to get the overcoats.
"One of the hazards of temporal travel in intemperate climates," Sierra said. "We never had such problems in Athens or Alexandria."
A group of men entered. One, with a moustache, thick head of hair, and a pair of spectacles attached to his vest with a silver chain, instructed a younger man who was holding the door open while he scraped the snow off of his boots. "Shut that door, man – you'll make it feel like Siberia inside the Club!"
The man apologized and complied.
"J. P.!" Astor said with delight and pumped the extended hand.
"Jack," J. P. said more sedately. "You look younger every time I see you."
Astor laughed. "These are my friends, Sierra Waters and Maxwell Marcus, just returned from Egypt."
"I ought to go there one of these days," J. P. said, shaking hands with Max and gently squeezing Sierra's. "I have business upstairs, even though no business is allowed in the Club," he said and he took his leave.
"J. P. Morgan," Astor whispered to Sierra and Max. "He financed Thomas Edison a few years ago – actually, more than a few years ago, now. Tesla was furious ."
Bertram appeared with the overcoats. "I think this greatcoat should suit you," he said to Sierra, and graciously dressed her in a deep beige coat with a cloak. "This should keep you warm as toast."
"Thank you," Sierra said.
Bertram did the same to Max, who received a stylish dark grey greatcoat.
Astor looked on approvingly, beaming at Sierra and Max. He put his arms through the black greatcoat Bertram extended to him.
A man appeared with three hats. "Thank you," Bertram said to the man, then to Sierra, Max, and Astor, "I can't let you go out into this cold with bare heads."
"Thank you," Astor said again, and took the black hat, with wide brim and flat crown, offered to him. Max did the same.
Sierra's was even more stylish, and mauve.
"Return all of this whenever convenient," Bertram said, and left with the hat bearer.
Sierra, Max, and Astor said thanks again, and walked out into the street. The cold hit their noses, unprotected by the greatcoats and hats.
"Let's proceed up to Wave Hill," Astor said, his breaths forming visible puffs in the icy air. "The trains from Grand Central run frequently."
"Should we call first?" Max asked.
"Not necessary," Astor replied. "I'm sure William will be happy to see us."
***
Astor professed to find the seven-block walk south to Grand Central Terminal invigorating. Sierra was happy that most of the snow had been cleared. But all three had to walk as close to the
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