For Margaret Anne, in memory of your many New York City Christmases. I miss you. _____________________________________________________________ The sky over Manhattan had the bruised, purple weight of fruit left too long in the cold. Snow threatened, and there was no coal to answer it. December 1931 settled into the body. At the excavation that would one day be Rockefeller Center, the ground lay torn open and frozen, mud locked tight around slabs of stone. Men stood along the