The Door on Sutton Place
22 Mar 2026 comments
Bob filled the frame—six-two, broad-shouldered, silver threading dark hair at the temples. Charcoal cashmere clung to a chest shaped by disciplined mornings on the water. Late fifties, perhaps sixty, but the kind of presence that still drew eyes along the Hudson rowing paths. Pale blue eyes tracked Vince slowly, head to toe, pausing on the taut pull of khakis across his thighs.