July brought a heavy, golden heat to the Hudson Valley, stilling the high leaves of the tulip poplars and honeylocusts along the ridges of Stony Point. By late morning, a haze rose off the river, blurring the distant cliffs of Westchester into soft layers of slate and indigo. The lower terrace stones absorbed the midday sun, radiating a dry, clean warmth that smelled faintly of river mud, wild clover, and warm granite.
Down in the subterranean research wing, the climate-control systems maintained a steady ambient temperature of sixty-two degrees. Sunlight entered through high, sloped clerestory windows, cutting long, pristine rectangles across the dark river-stone floor.
I stood beside a free-standing oak drafting desk in the secondary cataloging gallery, wearing a sleeveless high-collar
