her face. “If the wind gets too much, we can go up to the hundred and second. I mean, if you want to. It’s more cramped there, but it’s enclosed.”
“No, I like it here.” Here, where Sara Beth is supposed to be, she doesn’t say. They walk the perimeter of the deck, seeing New York from all angles. He figures Rachel is hoping for a miracle, hoping to see her friend walk through the door, or hoping to turn the curve and see Sara Beth gazing out at Manhattan, waiting for her. The Empire State Building stands on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Thirty-fourth. She is looking for that miracle on Thirty-fourth Street.
The sun sets further and Rachel slowly walks, holding her jacket closed in front of her.
“Come on,” he says from behind her, placing his hands gently on her waist. “You’re cold. We’ll go upstairs to warm up and check back here later.”
She puts her hands on his and pulls them around her waist, leaning back into him. “In a minute?” The twilight sky spreads before her. “This is so peaceful,” she says. “Why couldn’t this be all?”
A star breaks through the violet sky, twinkling in the darkening eastern horizon.
“See that star?” Rachel asks. “Every summer my parents rented a cottage at the beach. I’d have one week with my father, one with my mother. It was a pretty place with winding roads and little old cottages.”
He turns when he hears the elevator open, and she glances over her shoulder at him.
“I always brought Sara and on the first night, we’d walk down to the beach after dinner and sit on the boardwalk. When the sun set, we’d watch the big sky over Long Island Sound, searching for the very first star. Whoever spotted it first got the wish that year. The first wish was special, the one to come true.”
“Were you ever first?”
“Oh sure.” She keeps her eye on the lone star over Manhattan’s eastern sky. “I would squeeze my eyes shut and whisper Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight…We still do it, wish on stars every summer. It’s one of those things you hold on to.”
“You found it tonight.”
Rachel stares at that star and silently makes her wish.
Not that he’s noticing intentionally, but it twinkles a little brighter in the sky as the sun sets. Michael thinks it is part of some constellation, part of an ancient connection in the skies, old and lasting through time, still shining on Manhattan. He closes his eyes for a second before leading Rachel upstairs.
They go higher still to the enclosed observatory on the hundred and second floor where the only evidence of wind is its whistle reaching inside.
“There are some who say that this place is very close to heaven,” Michael says after a quick phone call checking up on his daughter.
“An Affair to Remember.” Rachel brushes a wisp of hair off her face. “Deborah Kerr?”
“I think she was right,” Michael answers.
The sky has grown dark now and it’s scary to look down. Rachel can’t imagine being any closer to the sky. Close to the stars, she feels connected to Sara Beth.
“Do you know what stood here before this building?”
“Wasn’t it always the Empire State Building?”
“This was actually the site of the first Waldorf Astoria. They tore it down and hauled it out to sea, and a year and a half later, in 1931, this building stood in its place.”
They walk a little and Rachel figures he’s done with the story, surprised when his voice eventually continues.
“Once the foundations were in, the construction crews framed and built this building a floor a week, every week.” Michael gazes out onto the city, speaking as though he worked there when it happened. “The exterior walls are made of limestone and granite, but it’s framed with steel.”
“A floor a week? That’s incredibly fast.”
“The architects and construction company treated it like an assembly line. When the different tradespeople completed their work on one floor, they moved up
“No, I like it here.” Here, where Sara Beth is supposed to be, she doesn’t say. They walk the perimeter of the deck, seeing New York from all angles. He figures Rachel is hoping for a miracle, hoping to see her friend walk through the door, or hoping to turn the curve and see Sara Beth gazing out at Manhattan, waiting for her. The Empire State Building stands on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Thirty-fourth. She is looking for that miracle on Thirty-fourth Street.
The sun sets further and Rachel slowly walks, holding her jacket closed in front of her.
“Come on,” he says from behind her, placing his hands gently on her waist. “You’re cold. We’ll go upstairs to warm up and check back here later.”
She puts her hands on his and pulls them around her waist, leaning back into him. “In a minute?” The twilight sky spreads before her. “This is so peaceful,” she says. “Why couldn’t this be all?”
A star breaks through the violet sky, twinkling in the darkening eastern horizon.
“See that star?” Rachel asks. “Every summer my parents rented a cottage at the beach. I’d have one week with my father, one with my mother. It was a pretty place with winding roads and little old cottages.”
He turns when he hears the elevator open, and she glances over her shoulder at him.
“I always brought Sara and on the first night, we’d walk down to the beach after dinner and sit on the boardwalk. When the sun set, we’d watch the big sky over Long Island Sound, searching for the very first star. Whoever spotted it first got the wish that year. The first wish was special, the one to come true.”
“Were you ever first?”
“Oh sure.” She keeps her eye on the lone star over Manhattan’s eastern sky. “I would squeeze my eyes shut and whisper Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight…We still do it, wish on stars every summer. It’s one of those things you hold on to.”
“You found it tonight.”
Rachel stares at that star and silently makes her wish.
Not that he’s noticing intentionally, but it twinkles a little brighter in the sky as the sun sets. Michael thinks it is part of some constellation, part of an ancient connection in the skies, old and lasting through time, still shining on Manhattan. He closes his eyes for a second before leading Rachel upstairs.
They go higher still to the enclosed observatory on the hundred and second floor where the only evidence of wind is its whistle reaching inside.
“There are some who say that this place is very close to heaven,” Michael says after a quick phone call checking up on his daughter.
“An Affair to Remember.” Rachel brushes a wisp of hair off her face. “Deborah Kerr?”
“I think she was right,” Michael answers.
The sky has grown dark now and it’s scary to look down. Rachel can’t imagine being any closer to the sky. Close to the stars, she feels connected to Sara Beth.
“Do you know what stood here before this building?”
“Wasn’t it always the Empire State Building?”
“This was actually the site of the first Waldorf Astoria. They tore it down and hauled it out to sea, and a year and a half later, in 1931, this building stood in its place.”
They walk a little and Rachel figures he’s done with the story, surprised when his voice eventually continues.
“Once the foundations were in, the construction crews framed and built this building a floor a week, every week.” Michael gazes out onto the city, speaking as though he worked there when it happened. “The exterior walls are made of limestone and granite, but it’s framed with steel.”
“A floor a week? That’s incredibly fast.”
“The architects and construction company treated it like an assembly line. When the different tradespeople completed their work on one floor, they moved up
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