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formulate—“innocent mistakes.”
    For a moment Drew said nothing. But then her voice was suddenly bright. “It’s a remarkable piece, you know. As uncommon as your bracelet and earrings, to be set that way. And with a particularly stunning inclusion. It’s sure to draw not only jewel enthusiasts but specimen collectors as well. Which broadens our bidding pool significantly. Not to mention that something this rare could bring in quite a bit more money. For the foundation, I mean.” She waited for Nina’s reaction. “And I don’t need to tell you that the fact that the donor wishes to remain anonymous…well, it’s just the sort of thing the public finds intriguing. It’s certain to bring more attention to the auction. And more bidders, of course. Which, again, means more money for the foundation.”
    Nina understood what this girl was doing. “Yes, of course,” she said weakly, and then, as quickly as she could, “Good-bye.”
     
    H EARING THE DIAL tone rude in her ear, Drew replaced the receiver, took a long slow breath, and wiped a drop of coffee from the lip of her mug in a small, instinctual motion. She knew better than to take any of this personally.
    Yet it was difficult not to. The Revskaya project meant more to her than most, not only because of how she loved the ballet. There was also that one haphazard branch of her lineage that to this dayremained something of a question mark. And so it did not bother her so much that as usual all of the work (yes, all of it) would fall into her lap, while Lenore floated along unburdened. Drew rarely complained of it; such things weren’t worth risking her job for. And as long as she continued to love her work, she found she was able to step back and, from that slight distance, view the job’s more irritating aspects as simply amusing. In fact, she found this technique worked well in many of life’s circumstances.
    Now she looked down at her checklist for the day, the hastily penciled objectives, deceptively brief. Really some of those items might take weeks. As for confirming the provenance of the amber suite, Drew knew that such things moved incrementally, step by step. And of course the directory of Russian goldmarks was temporarily “lost” somewhere in the auction house; Drew had had to order another copy from a special library. Though Lenore had said that an approximate date of manufacture was perfectly fine, Drew hoped the marks might be traced back to a specific production batch. Perhaps then she might be able to say with certainty that the pendant was part of that same set. There was nothing quite like the satisfaction of uncovering a difficult answer, proving something concrete. So much else in the world was vague and impossible to pin down.
    As if aware of Drew’s thoughts, Lenore poked her head in. Hair in a loose, wispy chignon, a few faded strands framing her face. “How’s my lieutenant?” She still called her that, though nearly a year had passed since Drew’s promotion to associate director.
    “I just notified Nina Revskaya about the amber pendant.”
    “Good, good.” Already Lenore was turning away, a dreamy, distracted expression as she caught her reflection in the glass. Who knew if she had even heard Drew’s reply? And yet Drew had to admire—had in fact, in her time here, absorbed—Lenore’s poise, her effortless aplomb. She liked watching her at the auction block, hergentle command and easy, swift delivery, her slight accent as if from an overseas boarding school, and the way she nearly flirted with bidders, teasing out their interest, their paddles nervously raised past their avowed limits. “Whenever you’re able to start getting some text together for the supplemental, I’d love to see what you come up with.”
    “I’m on it.” Drew had in fact already begun drafting an introduction to the brochure that they would be producing in addition to the biographical notes in the catalog. She gave a small ironic salute, as