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“Do you know how to sell jewelry?”

“I don’t, and honestly, I don’t like to talk to people.” After she had told them the truth, it occurred to her that they might not let her keep the job.

Esther looked at her father, and Isaac raised his eyebrows. Then he squeezed out a smile. “At least she’s honest about it, Esther. She is a very honest kid, you see.”

“But honesty doesn’t sell jewelry, Father.”

“Well, Anyu, you’ll try the counter?”

She nodded. It was only selling jewelry. It shouldn’t be too hard.

“Then it’s settled. Anyu, you’ll work in the showroom with Esther.”

“And where will she sleep? We don’t have enough room.”

“She can sleep in the attic with you.”

“I certainly didn’t think you’d give her the kitchen floor,” Esther said.

The two aunts brought dinner to the table. Russian foods, it appeared. A basket of bread, dumplings in a soup, and a bowl of borscht. She was so hungry, she could have settled for just the crumbs in the basket.

But the rest of the people in the room didn’t look like they were ready to eat.

Isaac cleared his throat and began to sing, and they all joined, singing in the language she couldn’t recognize.

Awkwardly, Anyu sat there, listening, waiting for them to finish, wondering if this was a ritual they’d do for every meal; if so, how unnecessary!

At last, the singing ended, and Isaac passed a loaf of bread to her. Anyu took a fluffy piece with a golden crust and bit into it. It tasted wonderful, even better than the khleb she had tried as a child in Harbin.

Around her, people were eating with gusto and chatting loudly.

They appeared to have forgotten about her.

The aunts, Isaac, and the uncle conversed in a language she later learned was Yiddish, but Esther, who seemed to understand the language, only replied in Russian.

Then Anyu heard Isaac mention Samuel; all of a sudden people stopped chewing, and Esther appeared as if she was choking.

He’ll be back soon, she said, not looking at her father’s eyes.

Later, Esther took Anyu to the attic room she shared with her aunts.

Carefully, Anyu followed her, climbing up a narrow staircase in the hallway.

It was dark upstairs, and it took a moment for her vision to adjust. The attic space was smaller than the apartment Anyu had shared with Mother, and warmer, with a glass window.

There were baskets filled with knitting needles and yarn, a tall shelf that held a few books in English, a beautiful table lamp with a beaded lampshade, a painted chest in cream, two small beds against the wall, and a dresser with a large oval mirror.

“This is nice,” Anyu said, impressed by the variety of furniture. Her home in Harbin had been sparsely decorated.

Esther stood between the two beds, turning on the table lamp.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Anyu asked.

Esther’s face reddened in the light. “None of your business.”

“I mean, you’re such a beauty. A pity you’re a cripple.”

Esther did not hit her like Anyu’s landlord did, but it sure looked like she might. “It’ll do you good if you keep your thoughts to yourself, little orphan from Harbin.”

“Fine. Where should I sleep?”

Esther pulled out a trundle from beneath one of the beds, took out a rolled-up bamboo mattress, and stuffed it into Anyu’s hands. “Over there.”

Esther pointed at the corner of the floor near the other bed.

Anyu took the mattress and spread it. It was not bad, a corner for herself.

She sat down, took off her wet coat, and wiped her face with it.

Then she unbuttoned her cotton jacket and removed another layer until she wore only a short-sleeved shirt.

She felt lighter and more relaxed—she had never worn short sleeves in May, and it felt good.

Rubbing her bare arms, she looked up. Esther’s prying eyes were following her like a flashlight.

“If you’re staying here, you’ll have to hear some rules,” she said.

“What rules?”

“Number One: Do not steal any jewelry.”

“I don’t steal anything.”

“Rule Number Two: Do not enter the jewelry workshop.”

Jewelry workshop. Of course, Isaac must make his jewelry here.

“Rule Number Three: You must sell at least one piece of jewelry in three months.”

“Mr. Mandelburg didn’t say three months.”

“My father is too kind. He’s doing a mitzvah because you’re an orphan. He wants to feed you with the shop’s income, but we don’t have much. We have to pay taxes and rent and buy food. If you want to stay here, you must help with the sales and prove that you’re not just a mouth to feed.”

“What if I can’t sell anything?”

Esther shrugged. “Then you’ll find someone else’s attic.”

Three months to make a sale? She could try.

It was too early to go to sleep, but Anyu was utterly exhausted.

She lay down. The cold, hard bamboo mattress pressed against her back, so different from the warm kang she was used to.

But it felt good to lie down, to stretch out her limbs.

Her head on her sack, she faced the wooden wall of the attic, listening to the rain dripping outside the window, watching a globe of golden light reflected from the table lamp.

She had a corner to herself, a place to stay; she was no longer homeless.

For the first time since her mother’s death, after days and nights of jostling in the train, fearful, being on alert, she felt safe.

Drowsiness slipped over her like a silky cover. Her eyes fluttered; her breathing slowed. One last thought occurred to her: she had forgotten to ask Isaac about his treasure. Did he still have the egg? Could she see it?