The studio Alistair provided occupied a converted nineteenth-century iron foundry near Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

From the street, the building appeared abandoned. Weathered stone walls surrounded a private courtyard, and the old iron gates showed no gallery na

Winter settled over Manhattan in gray slush and hard wind.

From the windows of the Sterling Plaza Penthouse, the city appeared distant and sterile. Traffic crawled between towers, and dirty snow gathered along the edges of rooftops.

Daniel Sterling sat alone before the

The winter rain in Saint-Germain-des-Prés had turned to a biting, freezing sleet that rattled against the high iron skylights of Evelyn’s foundry studio.

Inside, the only light came from the blue hiss of a portable gas heater and the single, stark halogen lamp positioned