on the floor of the room he rented, years and years ago, in the big rickety house just over the river in Cambridge, Grigori had told her all he had managed to piece together, and showed her the few bits of evidence. When she first touched the amber, it was with a small stroking motion, almost as if the thing were alive. “It’s sort of eerie, isn’t it?” She took the pendant in her palm, felt the weight of it. And then: “Can I try it on?”
Why had this surprised him? It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone might ever actually wear it. Uneasily he said, “Sure,” sounding calm enough that Christine hadn’t noticed his hesitation. Leaning forward, she reached behind her head to lift her hair as Grigori draped the necklace and fiddled with the clasp, his hands grazing her neck. He could smell the soap she always used, rose-scented, from Chinatown. “Okay,” he said, and she turned around so that he could see the necklace.
It didn’t look right on her. Christine said so herself. “That’s why I only wear silver,” she had explained as she stood to examine herself in the long mirror attached to the bedroom door. “Gold doesn’t work with my coloring. Neither does amber, I guess.”
Grigori had gone to stand behind her, drawing his arms around her—already, somehow, not quite so jarred by the girl he loved wearing this old and mysterious object. Relief was what he felt, that Christine was so separate from that fraction of his world. In the long mirror he saw, with surprise, a young couple in love.
From that moment the questions that had once seemed to him so central became less urgent; life with Christine overtook those other mysteries, grew larger than the past, created a new past, a new history—with Christine, who knew him as no one else had, Christine, the place where his search had finally ended.
Ah, Chrissie.
Grigori gulped down the rest of the tomato juice. These past two years had been that much worse for the way that hole had reopened. Larger every day, it seemed, the wanting, the needing to find his way back, somehow.
He placed the empty glass in the sink. This was the moment when Christine would have looked at the clock, said Yikes, gotta go, and kissed him so that he tasted the coffee flavor of her tongue.
Fighting the thought, Grigori went to fetch his coat and gloves from the closet, and braced himself for the cold, cold day.
L OT 16
Antique 14kt Gold and Lava Brooch, depicting St. Basil’s Cathedral. Russian hallmark of 56 zolotniks, in original fitted box with Cyrillic label. $1,500–3,000
CHAPTER THREE
A gain the phone was ringing. First it had been the Herald and the Globe , but now came the piggybackers: the TAB , the Phoenix , not to mention the local television and radio stations. All because of that second press release from Beller. You would think there was nothing else happening in all of Massachusetts. But of course that was Boston, its essence, everyone excited about what was really not much at all. Local reporters sniffing around for news…At first Nina simply applied that universal yet somehow disingenuous phrase: “No comment.” But it felt weak, wrong, and each time she said it, she felt less in control.
“Do you have any idea who the anonymous donor might be?”
“No comment.”
“Were you surprised to learn that someone else owned amber jewelry that matched your own?”
“No comment.”
After nearly a full day of this, Nina realized what a fool she had been not to turn the ringer off. When she found the little switch, she felt as she imagined a scientist might upon making a simple yet brilliant discovery. And so she had a day and a half of quiet—until Cynthia discovered the switch and made that sucking noise through her teeth that she always used to show disapproval, and turned itback on. Then she scolded Nina with a long spiel about safety and the rules of her job at Senior Services. When the ringing started up, she scolded Nina again, for not having
Why had this surprised him? It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone might ever actually wear it. Uneasily he said, “Sure,” sounding calm enough that Christine hadn’t noticed his hesitation. Leaning forward, she reached behind her head to lift her hair as Grigori draped the necklace and fiddled with the clasp, his hands grazing her neck. He could smell the soap she always used, rose-scented, from Chinatown. “Okay,” he said, and she turned around so that he could see the necklace.
It didn’t look right on her. Christine said so herself. “That’s why I only wear silver,” she had explained as she stood to examine herself in the long mirror attached to the bedroom door. “Gold doesn’t work with my coloring. Neither does amber, I guess.”
Grigori had gone to stand behind her, drawing his arms around her—already, somehow, not quite so jarred by the girl he loved wearing this old and mysterious object. Relief was what he felt, that Christine was so separate from that fraction of his world. In the long mirror he saw, with surprise, a young couple in love.
From that moment the questions that had once seemed to him so central became less urgent; life with Christine overtook those other mysteries, grew larger than the past, created a new past, a new history—with Christine, who knew him as no one else had, Christine, the place where his search had finally ended.
Ah, Chrissie.
Grigori gulped down the rest of the tomato juice. These past two years had been that much worse for the way that hole had reopened. Larger every day, it seemed, the wanting, the needing to find his way back, somehow.
He placed the empty glass in the sink. This was the moment when Christine would have looked at the clock, said Yikes, gotta go, and kissed him so that he tasted the coffee flavor of her tongue.
Fighting the thought, Grigori went to fetch his coat and gloves from the closet, and braced himself for the cold, cold day.
L OT 16
Antique 14kt Gold and Lava Brooch, depicting St. Basil’s Cathedral. Russian hallmark of 56 zolotniks, in original fitted box with Cyrillic label. $1,500–3,000
CHAPTER THREE
A gain the phone was ringing. First it had been the Herald and the Globe , but now came the piggybackers: the TAB , the Phoenix , not to mention the local television and radio stations. All because of that second press release from Beller. You would think there was nothing else happening in all of Massachusetts. But of course that was Boston, its essence, everyone excited about what was really not much at all. Local reporters sniffing around for news…At first Nina simply applied that universal yet somehow disingenuous phrase: “No comment.” But it felt weak, wrong, and each time she said it, she felt less in control.
“Do you have any idea who the anonymous donor might be?”
“No comment.”
“Were you surprised to learn that someone else owned amber jewelry that matched your own?”
“No comment.”
After nearly a full day of this, Nina realized what a fool she had been not to turn the ringer off. When she found the little switch, she felt as she imagined a scientist might upon making a simple yet brilliant discovery. And so she had a day and a half of quiet—until Cynthia discovered the switch and made that sucking noise through her teeth that she always used to show disapproval, and turned itback on. Then she scolded Nina with a long spiel about safety and the rules of her job at Senior Services. When the ringing started up, she scolded Nina again, for not having
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