Saturday afternoon cloaked lower Manhattan in a raw, damp drizzle that turned the cobblestones of South Street Seaport into mirrors of slick black stone. Ava had intentionally declined Julian’s invitation to review contracts over the weekend, claiming she needed to visit an elderly relative in Westchester. Instead, she had taken the subway downtown to the historic waterfront district, walking beneath the screech of the elevated FDR Drive toward an unassuming…
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