The board favored redevelopment.
A modern office tower would produce several times the projected income of a restored theater.
Nicholas had not objected.
He had barely examined the photographs.
Then, earlier that evening, a woman in a red silk dress had asked him to fasten her zipper and informed him that his entire profession was practically a disease.
He should have been offended.
Instead, he had found himself laughing.
She was beautiful, certainly.
That had been obvious from the moment she turned toward him in the elevator.
But it was not merely her beauty that interested him.
It was the way she spoke.
Quickly.
Passionately.
Without calculating whether her opinions would make her popular.
Most people who met Nicholas Sterling wanted something from him.
They complimented him.
Agreed with him.
Laughed at jokes he had not intended to make.
Maggie Bennett had called him a parking meter.
He found the distinction refreshing.
Now, standing at the podium beneath the ballroom chandeliers, Nicholas looked across the crowd and found her immediately.
She stood near a marble column, holding her champagne glass with both hands.
Her thick brown hair fell over one shoulder in soft, voluminous waves. The deep red dress suited her pale, warm-toned complexion and expressive dark eyes.
She was watching him carefully.
Not admiringly.
Not suspiciously.
Curiously.
Nicholas suddenly wanted very much to know what she was thinking.
He looked down at his prepared remarks.
A speech about investment, growth, and the future of New York.
He had delivered variations of it dozens of times.
Tonight, the words felt strangely inadequate.
He folded the paper.
Then looked toward the audience.
“Good evening.”
The room quieted.
“I was supposed to give you a speech about the importance of building the future.”
A few people smiled.
“And I still believe that's important. But someone reminded me tonight that building the future doesn't always mean removing everything that came before it.”
Maggie's eyebrows lifted.
Nicholas continued.
“We spend a remarkable amount of money creating places for people to work. Perhaps we ought to give a little more thought to the places that make them want to stay.”
He glanced toward her.
“For that reason, the Sterling Foundation will be expanding its review of community restoration proposals this autumn.”
Polite applause followed.
Several executives exchanged uncertain looks.
Nicholas smiled.
“And I promise to read them before deciding they're impossible.”
Maggie looked down, smiling to herself.
For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to hope.
At ten twenty, the reception began winding down.
Maggie stood near the windows, trying to decide whether it would be socially acceptable to steal a second miniature chocolate éclair for the taxi ride home.
She was studying the dessert tray when a voice spoke behind her.
“I'd take two.”
She turned.
Nicholas stood beside her.
“You startled me.”
“My apologies.”
He glanced toward the éclairs.
“They're excellent.”
“Have you had one?”
“Three.”
She laughed.
“That's a rather unrestrained confession for a powerful businessman.”
“I try to maintain an air of mystery.”
“It's not working.”
“Neither is your attempt to pretend you aren't taking another éclair.”
She picked one up.
“Fine. But if anyone asks, I'm doing it for research.”
He smiled.
For a moment, they simply stood beside the windows, looking down at the city.
The rain had stopped.
Far below, traffic moved through Manhattan like ribbons of white and red light.
Nicholas loosened his tie.