Midnight-at-the-Plaza
Midnight at the Plaza I. The phone call came at three in the morning. Nora Calloway answered it in a bathrobe, her hair spread across her shoulders like spilled ink, and heard the words that rearranged her entire evening: her father had collapsed in Connecticut, stroke, unconscious, being transported to Manhattan. She drove. Nora drove seven hours from New Haven to Manhattan in the dark, her...
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