Racetrack Higgins nervously wound his pocket watch and shoved it back inside his pocket. He brushed off his vest and pants in an effort to look as presentable as possible in his worn and tattered clothing. Race sighed and pressed his finger against a shiny ivory button, ringing the DeLanci's door chime. He fidgeted and stared blankly at the massive front door. The walnut wood was intricately carved and varnished to a golden finish. The bronze doorknob shone in the afternoon sun and the stained glass panels reflected jewel-colored shafts of light. Race caught his breath as the doorknob turned and the door slid silently open on freshly oiled hinges.

"May I help you?" A tall, rake-thin man peered out at Racetrack. His face was leathery and wrinkled and his well-manicured white hair sat like crown atop his head. He wore dark pants and a dark suit jacket. His snowy white shirt and gloves contrasted sharply with the dingy white of Race's own shirt.

"Is dis da DeLanci residence?" Race managed to squeak as he twisted his cap in his sweaty hands.

"Yes, it is," the man nodded.

"Oh, well, I'm, uh, lookin' fer Jack Kelly," Race stammered.

"Right this way," the butler replied in a smooth British accent. He stepped back and opened the door all the way, revealing the inside of the house to Racetrack. Race gasped. He stared down a long hallway flanked by creamy marble columns. Under his feet were lush oriental rugs that covered a marble titled floor. Rising out of the right wall was a beautiful, curved staircase that seemed to spiral upwards into eternity. The voluminous vaulted ceiling was hung with glittering crystal and gold chandeliers.

"Sir?"

"Oh. Sorry." Race shook himself and began to follow James down the hallway. As they passed under the staircase, the hall gave way to a living room furnished with plush velvet chairs and couches in rich shades of burgundy, amethyst, pine, and midnight blue. The walls were covered with enormous picture windows, the glass without the slightest smudge. The windows looked onto an elaborate garden, filled with hedges and trees. At the center was a now dry fountain, shut down for the winter months. Faint strains of music escaped into the air from a gramophone on a honey-colored wood table. Angela sat next to the table, curled up in a chair, her nose in a book.

"Miss DeLanci?" James softly interrupted her.

"Hmm?" Angela looked up.

"This young man is here to see Mr. Kelly."

Angela nodded. "Thank you, James." James smiled and bowed before silently exiting the room.

"Hey," Angela said, standing up.

"Heya," Race said, rocking on his heels as he continued to stare about the room.

"Would you like to sit down?" Angela offered.

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure," Race nodded and gingerly sat down in a chair.

"I'll go get Jack. Excuse me," Angela nodded at Race before strolling out of the room.

Jack ran his fingertip along the rim of the window sill as he gazed out of the bedroom window. He looked out onto the snowy New York streets, watching people pass by on foot or by carriage under a cold blue sky. Jack pressed a hand against the glass, feeling the cool penetrate his palm as it seeped through the glass. Jack sighed, hearing footfalls from the carpeted hallway followed by a soft knock on his door.

"Jack."

The word echoed in the empty room. He stood there for a moment, still staring out the window. The word rang in his head, the familiar voice reverberating and washing over him.

"Yeah?" Jack turned to face Angela. She met his gaze for a brief moment before looking back at the ground.