August brought an intense, lingering humidity to the Hudson Valley, turning the thick mountain foliage surrounding Stony Point into a deep, heavy emerald. By early afternoon, dark storm clouds gathered along the northern horizon, casting long, bruised shadows across the granite terraces and turning the surface of the river below into a sheet of dark iron. The air smelled of ozone, warm wet stone, and impending rain.
Inside the subterranean archival wing, the environmental systems maintained an unyielding, cool quiet. Sunlight was replaced by the warm, steady glow of recessed LED strips illuminating the long rows of glass-fronted display cases.
I stood in the central cataloging alcove of the West Vault wearing a tailored sleeveless top of dark plum silk, high-waisted charcoal trousers, an
