Reconnections and Reservations
A cold front had settled over Manhattan, and the streets were filled with people bundled in thick coats against the chill. As night fell, the roads grew even quieter.
In a towering office building, only a few windows on the sixteenth floor were still aglow. Most of the busy workers had long finished their day.
Rachel Foster was hunched over her desk in the sixteenth-floor planning department, oblivious to the late hour. She focused on the project proposal before her, sometimes frowning, nibbling thoughtfully on her pen.
The desk lamp cast a warm halo over her face, highlighting her delicate and concentrated expression.
Suddenly, her phone rang, startling her. Thinking it was the driver sent to pick up William Franklin at the airport, she quickly answered.
"Sis! I knew you'd still be at the office."
"Diana? Why are you... It's so late; why are you calling here?" Rachel relaxed, adjusting her posture and setting her pen down.