Read Russian Winter for Free Online Page A

telephone. “Yes?”
    “Hello, Miz Revskaya, this is Drew Brooks at Beller.”
    Though she would have preferred to simply ignore her, Nina said, “How do you do.”
    “I’m very well, thanks—excited, I should say. There’s been an unexpected development.”
    Nina felt her heart lurch.
    “An individual who wishes to remain anonymous has brought us a piece that appears to match your amber bracelet and earrings. A pendant, Baltic amber with inclusions. The mounting and hallmarks are identical to those of your demi-parure. The owner maintains that the necklace is not only from the same source but that it belongs with your earrings and bracelet. That they’re a full suite.”
    Nina realized she was holding her breath.
    “Miz Revskaya?”
    “Nina.”
    “Nina, yes. We have all three pieces together here, and while we’ll of course have to confirm that the pendant is genuine, our appraisers believe, based on the mountings and maker’s mark, that these may indeed be a set.”
    Slowly Nina said, “Does it not occur to you that the appraisers maybe are wrong?”
    “Well, of course, appraisal is always a matter of judgment, on a sliding scale, we like to say. Not to mention that clasps and chains can be removed—and sometimes even authentic mountings have had their gems replaced. So we’ll be sending this to the lab to make sure it is indeed Baltic amber. But we wanted to call you in case you know anything about it. You see, the pendant’s owner would like to include it in the auction. As a donation. It’s quite incredible, actually.”
    “I do not know about it. I have one amber bracelet, with matching earrings. That is all. They are very rare.”
    “Yes, well, it occurred to us that perhaps you had owned the necklace, too, at some point. Or that you might have known that it was missing.”
    “I did not think anything missing. I have owned this bracelet and earrings since 1952. They came with me when I left Russia.”
    “The appraisers thought they might have been a gift, or something handed down in the family. And that perhaps they were divided up at some time.”
    Her voice tight, Nina said, “Then the appraisers I suppose will know.”
    “Well, that’s the trouble with amber. Since the beads are formed naturally, rather than by a jeweler, it’s nearly impossible to confirm which items began as part of the same collection. Some pieces—particularly the more exquisite ones—might be listed in the maker’s archives, but without that data or a serial number, we can’t be one hundred percent certain.”
    Nina’s breathing relaxed slightly. “I have nothing to say of this.”
    “That’s fine.” Drew’s voice was unexpectedly firm. “I simply needed to ask you, in case you might have…forgotten.”
    Nina felt the blood in her cheeks. “I am old, but I am not senile.”
    “No, no, of course, I didn’t mean—”
    “You must understand, Miss Brooks, that dancers remember. We must remember everything.” Physical memory was what she meant, muscle memory, quite different from what Drew Brooks was intimating—but Nina wanted to put her in her place. “I have in me, still, entire ballets. I recall clearly where my jewels come from.”
    “Yes, of course.” A sharp breath. “All right, then. I just wanted to see if you might happen to recall anything. If you do, please let us know.”
    “Of course.”
    “In the meantime, our appraisers are going to do their best to confirm the provenance of this additional piece and make sure tocorroborate what the owner has suggested. It seems likely, with such atypical mountings. And if the appraisal is sound, we’d like to include the pendant in the catalog. With a note, of course, that this is a last-minute addition that appears to belong to, but was not part of, your personal collection.”
    Nina remained silent.
    “Our appraisers are really very good.”
    “I do not doubt they are well trained. But I know also that people make”—she paused to