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“I wouldn’t use that word.” Anyu tapped the ash off her cigarette. “You love Miss Rose, I can see. And she’s a beautiful woman. How long has this been going on?”

“After you returned. I met her at a party. She broke her ankle in an accident, and I carried her to her apartment.”

“Your chivalry must have impressed her.”

“She’s easy to talk to. We get along.”

“What do you usually talk about?”

“Everything. My work. Her job. She’s an accomplished ballet dancer; she dances at the nightclubs every evening, except on Mondays. She has many men courting her, many men with money, but she only likes me.”

“So you gifted her the brooch.”

“She declined it at first. She’s not the type of girl you think she is, Anyu. When we met, she didn’t know who I was.”

Anyu didn’t say anything.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette. “I didn’t have luck with women. You know. Who wants to marry a stateless Jew? I want to marry her.”

“Will she agree?”

“I don’t know. I’m only a little-known jeweler.”

“Once you win the competition, you’ll be a master jeweler, and all of Shanghai will know you. You can choose any girl you like.”

Samuel looked at her, his eyes ablaze. “When do you want to start?”

“Now. I’ll need some kingfisher’s feathers,” Anyu said, remembering the technique of dian cui that she had glimpsed in the Chinese jewelry shop.

It took Anyu, Isaac, and Uncle David three days to finally purchase a handful of kingfisher feathers at a bird market—the kingfisher, as it turned out, was a mischievous bird and hard to capture.

Carefully, Anyu trimmed the plumage and, using tweezers, arranged it on a hot metal mold shaped like a petal and melted it with a blowtorch.

Once the feathers turned into a pool of unblemished turquoise liquid, she placed the mold inside the kiln.

Samuel watched her, following her steps, continuing with the rest of the plumage.

Eight days later, she rubbed her sore eyes and straightened. In front of her sat a stunning blue orchid brooch inlaid with kingfisher feathers, set on twenty-four karat gold filigree petals.

When she presented the brooch, she heard a collective intake of breath from Isaac, Uncle David, and Samuel.

On the day of the award ceremony that would announce the winner, Anyu went to the hotel with Isaac, Uncle David, and Samuel. She was late—Esther had come to the shop that evening with Matthew, and she had played with the toddler, the cutest angel, and forgot about the time.

Once inside the ballroom shrouded in a cloud of cigars and cologne and champagne, standing among the men in tuxedos embellished with gold cuff links and women wearing flapper-style dresses and long pearl necklaces and journalists holding cameras, she felt as though she had traveled back six years.

She could afford a loss; but for Samuel’s sake, she’d like to win.

A server in tails came by holding a tray of champagne. She took a flute. “Where is Mrs. Brown?” she asked Isaac.

“There she is,” Isaac said, pointing at a figure under the chandelier.

Mrs. Brown, wearing her Edwardian tiara, was surrounded by a crowd, as usual. It was impossible to detect either stress or joy on her placid face. Anyu hoped she would announce the winner soon so she could go home and get some sleep.

She caught sight of Pierre Bellefeuille, whom she had not seen for more than two years, near an enormous oil painting.

He had one hand in his pocket, one hand around a young woman’s waist. They were speaking to a journalist holding a camera.

Anyu felt her chest tighten; she turned around and walked toward the string quartet on the other side of the ballroom.

“You’re avoiding me,” Bellefeuille said, his voice rising above the music.

She couldn’t believe it. There was no way to get around him.

“ Ma chérie , what happened to your vow of quitting your jeweler’s career?”

Went away with our wedding vows that we never got to say, perhaps? she wanted to retort. She thought better of it. “I was wrong. Making jewelry is my life. I could take a break from it but can’t quit it.”

“Didn’t I tell you so? You should have listened to me. What do you say we leave this place and get a drink for old time’s sake?”

She shook her head.

“Come on. Is this how you treat your old lover? I wouldn’t ask to speak to you if it wasn’t important. I wonder if you can help me.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You haven’t heard me yet! Listen. A client of mine is extremely fascinated with the Romanov treasure, especially Fabergé eggs. He’s interested in purchasing them. He’s willing to pay a steep price for them.”

“Why did you ask me? How would I know?”

“ Ma chérie ! Your master is from Russia! He knows about the objets d’art better than anyone. Would you ask him?”

“No.”

“Don’t be cruel.”

She laughed. “Pierre Bellefeuille, let me tell you this once and for all: Whatever happened between us is over. Stay away from me. I no longer wish to see you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re angry. What’s the matter? I went to the apartment to look for you, but you’d already left.”

Or did he? But she didn’t want a fight or entanglements of any sort. It was all in the past, and she didn’t want to look back. “You should have told me if you didn’t want the child.”

“There must be some misunderstanding, ma chérie .”

“I heard you in the hospital. I heard every word.”

He pursed his lips. “Then you should understand. How many half-Chinese French children do you see in Shanghai? I can’t jeopardize my business for a half-breed.

You know this. You understand the Chinese way.

And now you are sleeping with the arrogant Russian jeweler and taking my clients from me. Is this your revenge?”

How fast he changed his face. She put her glass back on a tray and walked away.

Near the staircase were Isaac, Samuel, and Uncle David. She went to them.

“Are you all right?” Isaac put his hand on her shoulder, eyeing Bellefeuille.

“I’m all right.”

“Mrs. Brown is ready to announce the winner, Anyu,” Samuel said.

“Good. Samuel? Can we talk?” She pulled him to a corner, out of people’s earshot. “You’re going to win. Can you promise me something after you win?”

“Yes, what is it, Anyu?”

“You’ll not see Miss Rose again.”

He looked at her. “Why?”

“She asked you about Mr. Walters, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Did she ask you about Mrs. Brown, too?”

He swallowed.

“Mr. Walters is dead.” She could feel Samuel trembling, and she held his hand and squeezed it to let him know she would keep it a secret. Isaac would be devastated if he knew his son had been used to betray the Guild.

On the stage, Mrs. Brown took her time to greet everyone and then opened the envelope that contained the name of the winner.

When Anyu heard it, she still couldn’t believe it. She looked at Isaac, Samuel, and Uncle David—her people—and then the crowd erupted in a sea of cheers and applause, all the faces in front of her, her clients, the movie stars, the hoteliers, the bankers, the socialites, beamed.

Their design had been chosen by Queen Mary, who even enclosed a paragraph extolling the beauty of the orchid brooch.

Anyu waved at Samuel to go up to the stage.

Samuel looked stunned, his eyes glazed, staring at the golden trophy in his hands.

She felt a lump in her throat. The happiness of success, the rush of elation, and the overflowing drunken feeling racing through her veins—she had experienced that before.

And yet. This time, it meant so much more.

She moved to stand with Isaac, Samuel, and Uncle David. There was nothing like celebrating success with those who stood by her side.

“You won,” Samuel said.

“We won,” she said.

With this honor and the popularity of her jewelry lines, the House of Mandelburg was catapulted to a new level of esteem, far surpassing the House of Bellefeuille and the House of Clemente. The House of Mandelburg would be a legend.

And Samuel would find his love, a girl he deserved.