door and dismissed Tandy for the evening.
Downstairs, I slid behind the wheel of my Ferrari and lost myself for a moment in the smooth throb of the engine.
All too soon I was pulling up to The Sylph.
Normally this was the moment I took a minute or three to look up at the building I’d poured my heart and soul into. The steel and blue-green smoked glass masterpiece that had taken two long years, singular focus and some deep, untapped desire to leave something beautiful, something memorable behind.
Without looking I knew the structure in the pleasing shape of a slender woman’s torso, half turned, perhaps to view her lover over her shoulder, would be gleaming beautifully against the dying rays of the setting sun. That soon lights from within and those reflected from surrounding buildings across the bay would bathe it in a stunning silhouette that drew awed gasps.
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