Taking advantage of the moment, Sotheby’s held an auction of Mrs.

Houghton’s jewelry. Now deeply curious about the apartment’s previous owner, Annalisa Rice attended the preview. She wasn’t a great lover of jewelry, but as she stared down into the cases that contained Mrs.

Houghton’s extensive collection, she was overcome with emotion. A sentiment, perhaps, about the connective thread of tradition and how one woman’s life might lead into another’s. It was why mothers passed things on to their daughters, she supposed. There was a transfer of power in the transference of possessions. But mostly, Annalisa decided, it was about belonging, and about things being in their rightful place. Mrs.

Houghton’s jewelry belonged where it always had been, in the penthouse apartment in One Fifth. Bidding fiercely at the auction, she was able to buy twelve pieces. When she brought the jewelry home and placed it in the large velvet jewelry box on her bureau, she experienced an odd sensation, as if the apartment were nearly complete.

Now, on the evening of the King David gala, Annalisa Rice planned to wear Mrs. Houghton’s jewels for the first time. Leaning in to the mirror in the vast marble bathroom, she clipped on a pair of diamond and pearl earrings and stood back to study the effect. The large pearls were a natural yellow, which complemented her auburn hair and gray eyes.

This reminded her once again of Billy and how pleased he would have been with the apartment and with her. Adjusting the earrings, she was startled by Paul’s voice.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

She looked up and found him standing in the doorway, staring at her.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly, then added, “What are you doing home?

I thought you were going to meet me at the gala.”

“I changed my mind,” he said. “It’s our big night. I thought we should go together.”

“How nice.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“I am, Paul. I was just thinking about Billy Litchfield. That’s all.”

“Again?” Paul said.

“Yes, again,” she repeated. “He was my friend. I’ll probably always think about him.”

“Why?” Paul said. “He’s dead.”

“Yes, he is,” she replied sarcastically, walking past him into the master bedroom. “But if Sandy hadn’t been caught, he would still be alive.”

She opened her closet. “Shouldn’t you start getting ready?”

“What did Billy have to do with it?” Paul said. He took off his shoes and began removing his tie. “I want you to stop thinking about Billy Litchfield.”

“Are you the thought police now, too?”

“It’s time to move on,” Paul said, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Billy sold Sandy the cross,” Annalisa said. “Sandy must have told you.”

Paul shrugged. “He didn’t. But in every business maneuver, there’s usually a random element that you don’t foresee. I suppose Billy Litchfield was that element.”

“What are you talking about now, Paul?” Annalisa said, coming out of the closet with a pair of strappy gold high-heeled shoes. “What business maneuver?” She opened the jewelry box and took out a platinum-and-diamond art deco bracelet that had also belonged to Mrs. Houghton.

“Sandy Brewer,” Paul said. “If I hadn’t taken him out, you wouldn’t be standing here putting on Louise Houghton’s jewelry.”

Annalisa froze. “What do you mean?” she said, fumbling with the bracelet.

“Come on,” Paul said. “You knew Sandy was probably going to fire me.

Over that glitch. On the China deal. How was I supposed to know Billy Litchfield was involved with Sandy and the cross? But if you trace it back to the source, it’s really Sam Gooch’s fault. If Sam hadn’t cut the wires, I wouldn’t have had to do what I did.”

“What did you do, Paul?” Annalisa asked softly.

“Sent that e-mail to the Times about the cross,” Paul said, stretching his neck as he placed his bow tie around his collar. “Kids’ stuff,” he said, jerking the ends of the tie. “A simple game of dominoes. Knock one down and they all fall over.”

“I thought Craig Akio sent the e-mail,” Annalisa said, being careful to keep her tone even.

“Also kids’ stuff,” Paul said. “A fake e-mail account — anyone can do it.”

He slipped on his tuxedo jacket. “That was a stroke of brilliance — and luck. Best way to get rid of two people at once. Get them to take each other out.”

“Goodness, Paul,” Annalisa said, her voice trembling slightly. “Is no one safe around you?”

“Not in this building,” he said, going into his closet. “I still need to figure out how to get Mindy Gooch and that bastard son of hers out of One Fifth. When they’re gone, I plan to restore their apartment to its original glory — luggage space.”

He slipped on his patent-leather dress shoes and held out his arm. “Are you ready?” he demanded, seeing her still standing there, fumbling with the bracelet. “Let me help you.”

“No,” she snapped, and took a step back from him. At that moment, the tab slipped into the hasp, and recovering herself, she held up her wrist. With a nervous little laugh, she said, “It’s okay. I got it myself.”

The first thing Annalisa did when taking over as head of the committee for the King David gala was to move the event to the newly refurbished Plaza. Getting out of the Town Car Annalisa had sent for her, Enid nodded in approval. With the restoration of the great hotel, perhaps New York was back, she thought, slowly walking up the red carpet that led to the grand entrance. There were paparazzi on either side, and hearing them call out her name, Enid paused briefly and nodded her coiffed head, getting a kick out of the fact that the paparazzi still wanted to take her picture. Just inside was a line of bagpipers. A young man in a black suit appeared and took her arm. “There you are, Ms. Merle,” he said.

“Annalisa Rice asked me to escort you.”

“Thank you,” Enid said. Philip had wanted to come with her, just like old times, but Enid had refused. She could make it perfectly well on her own, and besides, now that Philip was engaged, he should go with his fiancée. It was time to move on, she’d insisted. And so Philip and Schiffer had gone ahead to do press, which was as it should be.

The event was being held in the gold-and-white ballroom and was three flights up. Enid had always taken the stairs, which were marble and felt like part of a movie set, but the kindly young man led her to the elevator. Enid looked around the metal box and shook her head. “Somehow it doesn’t have quite the same effect,” she remarked.

“Excuse me?” the young man said.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

The elevator doors opened into the large foyer where the cocktail portion of these evenings was always held, and Enid felt better again, seeing that nothing had really changed. Then Annalisa Rice came forward and, kissing her on both cheeks, said, “I’m so glad you made it.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it, my dear,” Enid said. “Your first big charity event. And the head of the committee. Are you giving a speech? The head of the committee always gives a speech.”

“Yes. I wrote something this afternoon.”

“Good girl,” Enid said. “Are you nervous? You shouldn’t be. You’ve met the president, remember?”

Annalisa took Enid’s arm and walked her to the edge of the room.

“Paul did something terrible. He just told me. It slipped out while we were getting dressed...”

Enid cut her off. “Whatever it is, you must forget it. Put it out of your mind. You must behave as if everything is wonderful, no matter what you’re feeling. People expect it of you now.”

“But...”

“Billy Litchfield would have told you the same thing,” Enid said. Seeing the look of terror on Annalisa’s face, Enid patted her arm reassuringly. “Rearrange your expression, my dear. That’s better. Now go on. You have a roomful of people wanting to talk to you.”

“Thank you, Enid,” Annalisa said. She walked off, and Enid moved into the room. Several long tables covered in white cloth were set up along the walls, displaying the wares of a silent auction. Enid stopped in front of a large color photograph of an enormous yacht. Below was a description of the yacht, and a sign-up sheet on which bidders could write down their offer. “The Impressor,” it read. “Two-hundred-and-fifty-foot super-yacht. Four master staterooms with king-size beds. Twelve staff members, including yoga and scuba-diving instructors. Available in July.

Bidding starts at two hundred and fifty thousand a week.”

Enid looked up and found Paul Rice by her side. “You should bid on this,” Enid said.

Paul, for some reason, glared at her, although Enid thought this was probably his usual reaction to being greeted by relative strangers.

“Really?” Paul said. “Why?”

“We all know about your aquarium, dear,” Enid said. “You obviously like fish. There’s a scuba-diving instructor on board. The ocean is like a giant aquarium, I suppose. Have you ever scuba-dived?”

“No,” Paul said.

“I’ve heard it’s very easy to learn,” Enid said, and moved away.

The gong sounded for dinner. “Nini!” Philip exclaimed, having just found her in the crowd. “I’ve been looking for you all night. Where were you?”

“I was having a little chat with Paul Rice.”

“Why on earth would you do that? Especially after all the trouble he’s caused in the building.”

“I like his wife,” Enid declared. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if something happened to Paul, and Annalisa ended up in the apartment without him?”

“Plotting a murder?” Philip asked, and laughed.

“Of course not, dear,” Enid replied. “But it’s happened before.”