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The morning after the call with Daniel Rosman, Colette awoke before dawn, her head pounding. Never had she imagined that at nearly ninety, she’d be reuniting with someone her mother once knew, someone she had long believed dead.

What might her mother have thought if she’d known that one day, Colette would have the chance to return at least one of Madame Rosman’s bracelets?

She imagined that she might be very proud—but she would also wonder what was taking Colette so long to seize the bracelet’s other half.

After all, it was nearly within her grasp, and didn’t she have an obligation to finish what her mother had started?

Colette shook her head and got out of bed. None of that would be solved today. But seeing Daniel Rosman was something she would need to brace herself for. She was grateful Aviva would be with her.

But then her phone rang just past seven, Aviva’s name popping up on the caller ID. “Colette, you’re going to kill me,” Aviva said, “but a hearing on my schedule was moved to nine a.m. Do you think we can reschedule with Daniel Rosman?”

Colette checked her watch. Rosman’s train had to have left New York two hours ago. “I’m afraid he’s probably already on his way, dear.”

Aviva groaned. “Colette, I’m so sorry. Do you want to call Marty and ask him to meet you?”

Colette considered it for a moment, but what would she need his company for? The ghost of her mother would be with her. “No, dear. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Colette could hear the worry in Aviva’s tone. “Darling, you’re doing it again. Treating me like a child rather than a perfectly capable woman who has survived nearly everything life could possibly throw her way.”

Aviva sighed. “Right. I know. But do you promise to call me after you’ve seen him?”

“I promise.” And with that, Colette ended the call and went to her closet to figure out exactly what one should wear when coming face-to-face with the past.

When Daniel Rosman walked through the door of the Boston Center for Holocaust Education at half past nine, Colette knew him immediately; she was certain she had seen him before, though she had never met him in Paris.

He solved the mystery quickly. “You must be Colette,” he said with a smile after he’d approached, his gait confident and even. “I know you, don’t I? Have we volunteered together in the past?”

“You look familiar to me, too,” Colette admitted, standing and shaking his hand.

His grip was warm and firm, and when his fingers closed around hers and he looked her in the eye, Colette registered with some surprise that he was a very good-looking man.

He had to be around her age, but his back was straight, his shoulders broad, his silver hair thick, and the deep wrinkles around his eyes a sign of a life lived smiling.

“Perhaps the Holocaust education symposium the New York center put on in 1985? Or 1986, was it?”

He beamed at her. “?’Eighty-six, yes! I was the chair of that event. You were there, too?”

She nodded in astonishment. She remembered hearing the name Rosman at the time—it had struck her because of her mother’s friend—but Rosman wasn’t an uncommon name, and she hadn’t given it a second thought. Not in a million years would she have imagined that it belonged to Hélène Rosman’s son.

Chana spotted them from across the room and hurried over. “Well, if it isn’t two of the center’s longest-serving volunteers,” she said, beaming. “Don’t tell me the two of you are only just meeting for the first time!”

Daniel smiled at Colette. “It appears that way. In fact, Ms. Marceau and I were just recalling an event we both attended some thirty years ago.”

“Please, Mr. Rosman, you must call me Colette.”

“Only if you’ll call me Daniel.”

Chana looked amused. “Daniel, Colette here was one of our very first volunteers, way before my time, back when the center opened in 1972.” Turning to Colette, she added, “And Daniel has been active with our New York branch since its inception in 1980. You’ve probably been in a half dozen cross-training sessions together over the years. ”

“What a small world.” Colette smiled.

“Shall we walk, Colette?” Daniel asked, offering the crook of his arm and smiling down at her. “Since we’re evidently old friends?”

“We shall.” With a smile at Chana, she allowed Daniel Rosman to escort her out the rear door of the center, which opened into a small private rose garden.

They didn’t say another word until they were seated on a stone bench in the corner of the green space.

“Might I be so bold as to ask what drew you to volunteering for the center, Colette?” Daniel asked. “Are you Jewish?”

She looked down. It was the question she received most often in reference to her work here, and still, it never failed to surprise her.

She was human, and as far as she was concerned, every person who had lived through the war—whatever role they’d played—should be working tirelessly to keep alive the memories of the six million people who’d lost their lives in the Holocaust, so that such atrocities could never ever happen again.

She could feel a familiar tide of defensiveness rising within her.

But when she looked up, Daniel’s smile was open and friendly, and after a few seconds, she relaxed into it.

“No. I’m not Jewish. But during the war, my mother worked with an underground organization to protect Jewish citizens.

Being here feels a bit like keeping that work alive.

Had my mother lived, I think she would have continued to help for as long as she could. ”

“Your mother sounds like a tremendous woman,” Daniel said.

“She was. And I know she thought the world of your mother.”

“May her memory be a blessing,” Daniel murmured. “And your father, Colette? What was he like?”

Colette shook her head, surprised that the grief of his abandonment still stung after all these years. “Not nearly as incredible. What about your parents?”

“Both extraordinary people. My sister and I were so lucky to have them for the short time we did. My father was a sixth-generation diamond broker whose family was originally from Amsterdam. My mother was whip-smart, and she had a sly sort of humor about her. My father adored her; he would have done anything for her. I can only imagine that he must have gone to his death feeling most of all that he had failed to save her.”

“But the fault was not his!” Colette said instantly.

“And yet, don’t we all feel that way when we fail to save those we love the most?”

Colette looked at her hands. “It is certainly how I feel about my sister.”

He held her gaze. “You mentioned on the phone that she died during the war. Do you mind if I ask what happened to her?”

She looked away. “She disappeared the night we were all arrested in 1942. Her body was found floating in the Seine soon after. She was only four.”

“Oh, Colette.” Daniel surprised her by putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, well, the bracelet from the exhibit…” She trailed off, drawing a deep beath. “It disappeared with her. And now that it has turned up…”

Understanding flickered across Daniel’s face. “You might finally discover what happened to her if you can trace its journey. Of course.”

She studied her hands. “You can see why it means a great deal to me.”

“You know, my mother always said that jewels carry a piece of anyone who has touched them,” he said. “I’d like to think, therefore, that there are pieces of my parents in that bracelet, and pieces of your mother and sister, too. And I know my mother would want you to find some peace.”

“I’m not sure I deserve that.” She didn’t know why she was being so frank with a virtual stranger. “I turned my back for a second, Daniel. It’s my fault she disappeared.”

“Colette, if I may be so bold, none of us bears the responsibility for those we lost in those terrible times.”

“Thank you for that, even if I can’t quite believe it.” She finally met his gaze. “I know the bracelets are yours, Daniel. My mother would want you to have them back.”

“They?” he asked quietly. “You don’t know where the other one is, do you?”

Her breath snagged in her throat. Every piece of her wanted to tell him no, to keep the bracelet for herself.

It was the last thing she had to remember her mother and sister by.

But it had never really been hers. And giving it back to the Rosmans was what her mother had always wanted.

So after a brief moment of hesitation, she slowly rolled up the sleeve of her silk blouse and held out her wrist full of diamonds so that they sparkled in the morning sunlight like stars.

Daniel didn’t say anything at first; he simply stared as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Finally, he reached out to touch her wrist, sending a jolt through her. “Colette,” he breathed, still staring at the diamonds.

“My mother sewed it into the hem of my nightgown to keep it safe, just before she was arrested,” she said.

“The other half was with Liliane. I’ve had it all these years, Daniel.

It was the last thing she gave to me, you see.

But if I had known you survived…” She felt the crushing weight of regret; what had she done by keeping the piece from the Rosman family for so long?

Why had she simply accepted that they were dead?

Why hadn’t she looked harder for them? It was her fault that he had gone nearly his whole life without knowing the pieces were safe. “This belongs to you.”

Finally, he looked up. “My father always said that diamonds never really belong to anyone. They’ll witness births and deaths, war and peace, feast and famine, and yet they’ll live on, for millions of years. They have witnessed the past, and they will witness a future we can’t begin to imagine.”

“He sounds like a wise man.” She began to unclasp the bracelet, but Daniel reached out and folded his hand over hers, stopping her.

“No, Colette,” he said.