The Irving House Hotel - December 31, 1850.
Katrina tramped through the snow-covered walkway leading to the south end of the building, and from there to the locked south entrance. She stood at the bottom of the steps, surrounded in a world of descending white.
She listened to the faint sounds of revelry coming from the grand lounge inside. It was actually a combination New Year’s Eve party and a farewell gala for the Irving House’s esteemed guest, Madam Jenny Lind. Jenny and Giovanni Belletti had just finished entertaining the party goers with several rousing duets. The beer, wine and spirits had flowed freely and the crowd—with a goodly number of noted New York dignitaries—was in a festive mood. Dancing had commenced with Julius Benedict regaling the enthusiastic throng with his piano skills. Katrina’s escort, James Buckley, had been imbibing the spirits freely and would undoubtedly not even miss her for a while. This would be it for Mr. Buckley as far as Katrina was concerned. She found the man to be self-absorbed, condescending and oblivious to the plight and feelings of others.
Katrina removed the small pocket watch from her beaded purse and flipped open its cover—less than a minute to go. Replacing it, she set her purse down on the steps, exchanging it with her glass of wine. With her free hand she undid the top buttons of her cloak.
The snow was falling more heavily now, a slowly swirling, wafting blanket of sinking flakes, creating a soft cocoon of drifting white around her. Suddenly, the voices and sounds inside rose in a crescendo of celebration, colored lights and loud bangs behind the hotel heralded in the New Year as fireworks were set off, tinting the falling snowflakes with a kaleidoscope of color.
Katrina held her glass aloft. “A toast to you, my dearest Nathan. And a toast to your New Year and all your coming years. May all your choices be the right ones and all your dreams come true.” She downed the wine and threw the glass as hard and as far as she could and listened to the tinkle of the shattering crystal as it broke somewhere in the dark.
She reached inside her coat, grasped the cameo and removed it from the warmth of her breast. She held it in trembling hands before her suddenly tear-blurred eyes. With practiced fingers she deftly undid the delicate clasp, opened the face and looked longingly upon the picture of the young man inside. Katrina brought the locket to her lips and kissed it gently. “I love you, dear Nathan.”
She looked to the dark sky as if she could somehow see beyond the pale, somewhere where he might be, her hand reaching plaintively skyward in the night—her face glistening as her tears and the melting snow mingled together.…
