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She barely saw him anymore, only in the workshop where they could have some companionship, him striking the anvil and her grinding the dry flux in the mortar.

As usual, they seldom talked, passing the gold wires and silver sheets without the need for a word; it was all comforting and assuring, but something was missing, something she couldn’t identify, only a feeling—it was as if they were separate wires that couldn’t be joined.

And when she invited him to parties and banquets, Isaac declined. These social calls were vital for Esther to make eligible matches, and he would be an unwelcome chaperone. Besides, his time for socializing was limited, given his commitment to design and jewelry making.

Isaac was, indeed, busy; with the flood of commissions, the House of Mandelburg had ascended to be one of the top jewelers in Shanghai, and he rarely left the workshop.

But she couldn’t help noticing that even though his relationship with the Guild had ended, he kept in close touch with the tiara-wearing Mrs. Brown.

Without fail, Mrs. Brown, in her extravagant dress, came to pick up Isaac in her black Rolls-Royce with leather seats.

They seemed compatible, a decent couple, and it made Anyu feel queasy.

One evening, Isaac left the workshop after the store closed. Anyu couldn’t concentrate on her work. She went out to the showroom. On the street, Mrs. Brown’s black Rolls-Royce was just leaving.

Anyu went back to the workshop, where Samuel and Uncle David crouched at their workbenches.

She picked up the tweezers but realized what she needed was a pair of pliers.

Then she let the gemstones slip from her grip, misaligned, and even lost track of the next step.

She felt utterly despondent. She couldn’t recall the last time she had talked to Isaac alone; she missed him.

She went to the attic. Esther was peeling off her working dress and changing into her new dress, a pink sequined gown.

“Are you going out?”

“Yes, I have a dinner with Mr. Dearborn.” Mr. Dearborn was an American merchant from Boston whom Esther had met at a party. Anyu vaguely recalled a heavyset man with a chivalric air. “Will you join us?”

Anyu shook her head and looked at the stack of invitations on the desk near the lamp.

They were all from Pierre Bellefeuille, the owner of the House of Bellefeuille, the man who had chatted with her at the competition.

Anyu remembered his handsome face, his flirtatious manner, and his sophisticated fleur-de-lis jewelry designs.

“He’s a persistent man, Monsieur Bellefeuille,” Esther said. “Are you going to reply?”

“No. Not interested. Do you know where your father is going?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“I think he’s out with Mrs. Brown again.”

“They do spend a lot of time together.” Esther turned to her. “How do I look?”

Esther’s face was powdered, her cherry-red lips full, and the pink dress hugged her hips and breasts. By the light from the window, Esther’s beauty was stunning. “You are beautiful.”

“You like it? Good. Well, I don’t know. What do you think about the white dress?”

“You look great in this one, Esther.”

“I’m nervous. I really like him. I’ve been thinking about him all day at the counter!

Silly me. I think he likes me, too. He might ask me to marry him, you never know,” Esther said, examining her hair, and went on to say Mr. Dearborn had rented an apartment and opened a tobacco shop near the racecourse. He planned to stay in Shanghai.

It looked promising that this romance would have a happy ending, and Esther would find a husband who would give her security. “That’s wonderful, Esther. Your father will love it.”

“No, he won’t. Patrick is a gentile.”

“A gentile?”

“He’s not Jewish, but I don’t care. He’s a true gentleman. I’d like you to have dinner with us and get to know him. Will you come?”

“Next time. I need to work tonight.”

Esther studied her. “Are you sick, Anyu?”

“I’m fine. I’m going to work now.”

Anyu went down the staircase; from the workshop came the heavy thud of a hammer striking the anvil and Samuel’s voice. She turned back to the attic. “All right. I’ll meet your man. Where are you having dinner?”

“At the Majestic Hotel,” Esther said and ran her hands through her long blond curls again. She was rapidly becoming an old woman, as she said, but looked girlish, and nervous.

This was how love and marriage could change a woman, Anyu thought. She wanted to get married, too. She had met many men at parties and meetings, but still, the only person she had feelings for was Isaac.

Mr. Dearborn greeted them at the grand entrance to the Majestic Hotel, a luxurious hotel in Shanghai.

He was a man in his thirties, wearing a fedora and a blue suit.

He had a round face, blue eyes, and a nose shaped like a cigar.

He nodded politely, took Esther’s gloved hand, kissed it, and wouldn’t let it go. And Esther leaned over him, giggling.

Neither of them paid Anyu attention after that, and Anyu walked behind them, passing the lavish flower bouquets, wicker chairs, and leather chesterfields, foreign women wearing summer dresses and sequined gowns, and men holding champagne flutes and smoking cigarettes.

After two years of banquets and parties, she had learned to dress better, wearing a long silk gown embroidered with pink primroses, but she still didn’t feel accustomed to this life of leisure and luxury.

Designing and crafting was all she wanted to do.

Suddenly, Anyu felt lonely. She had never dined in a hotel with the man she loved and had never had a chance to kiss him. What would it be like to dine with Isaac at a fine hotel? Would Isaac ever kiss her?

Esther and Mr. Dearborn were glued together on a sofa in the grand ballroom that could host more than one thousand guests, and Anyu sat on a tufted chair with nothing to do.

The hotel was a property of Horace Kadoorie, one of her clients, and it was enormous.

The air was intoxicatingly sweet, scented with fragrance, and alight with mellow musical notes.

Esther and Mr. Dearborn whispered in each other’s ears, immersed in their mutual adoration.

Anyu opted to attack the food instead—Mr. Dearborn had generously ordered enough food for one hundred people—golden pastries glistening with jam, sliced beef, a whole roasted chicken, a mountain of greens, apples, and bananas.

And drinks! The hotel offered free gin and whiskey, Mr. Dearborn had said.

“What do you think?” Esther asked, her face flushed, when Mr. Dearborn took his leave to use the men’s room.

“You’re right. He seems like a true gentleman.”

“He is! He doesn’t smile that much, but he does smile! And Patrick is very smart. He loves whiskey and a special type of food called pie. Boston cream pie, or is it American pie? Boston cream pie, yes. I think that’s the name. He said he’d install an oven if I learn to bake.”

“Is he going to propose to you today?”

“Today?” Esther held a glass of whiskey and gulped it down. “From your lips to God’s ears!”

When Mr. Dearborn returned, Anyu made an excuse to leave to give the couple space.

She walked down a corridor decorated with fresh azaleas and daisies and passed a garden with a menagerie of statues in ivory and brass.

Soft music came from the back of the hotel; she stopped to observe.

Under an arbor festooned with lights and flowers, many guests dined at tables draped in white cloths.

Near a trellis with white daylilies, a couple looked familiar; the man wore a black shirt, and he was facing a woman in a golden dress, her hair adorned with a diamond tiara.

A few steps behind her were her shadow bodyguards in suits.

Isaac and Mrs. Brown were deep in conversation, unaware of the people around them.

The sight prickled her. Anyu was rooted to the ground, livid.

It was too much. It should be her sitting there with him in this beautiful garden, listening to music, her, not Mrs. Brown.

Isaac loved her. Even though he didn’t say it, he had given her the Guild’s ring, the egg!

He chose her to be his successor! What was he doing with Mrs. Brown?

Her eyes on Isaac, Anyu rushed to the magnolia tree on a terrace near them, ready to confront them both. Then she heard Mrs. Brown’s voice:

“You’ve done enough, Isaac.”

“I don’t know,” Isaac said.

“How old is she? Nineteen? Twenty? She’s very popular; many people like her.”

“She doesn’t notice.”

“You don’t need me to tell you what’s going on, Isaac. We both know where her heart is.”

Isaac rubbed his face and raised his head. His gaze met Anyu’s.

Anyu froze, then turned around and quickly walked away. Isaac followed her; she could hear him. Near a marble statue, she stopped. She could hardly find words to say, choked with anger.

“Anyu, I didn’t know you were here.” He walked to her.

“I came with Esther,” she said.

“What a coincidence.”

She glanced at Mrs. Brown, who sat at the table and watched them. She didn’t smile; the diamonds on her hair blazed. There was this placidness on her face under the light, and she seemed to say, Who do you think you are?

“Will you have dinner with me, Isaac?”

He cleared his throat.

“Why not? Why Mrs. Brown and not me?”

“Mrs. Brown and I are complicated. We have a long relationship. We met before you arrived in Shanghai.”

“But I told you. I love you.”

He looked down. “I’m very proud of you, Anyu, for your brilliant work. You revived the shop’s business. You’re young, talented, hardworking. You love your clients and are loved by your clients. I’m lucky to have you as my successor.”

There. Plain. Businesslike. Just as he had told her last time. But she couldn’t live with that. This was not good enough. “That’s it?”

“It’s better this way.”

“What do you mean ‘better this way’?”

“A man must not be greedy.”