Twenty minutes later, working with Leslie, she pushed aside all thoughts. Using a sketch of the Shanghai stage, Leslie marked the dimensions on the floor with yellow tape. For the next hour, they practiced her dance routines with the musicians. But the heaviness in her heart traveled to her legs, and her series of quick turns failed as she kept tripping.

“I’ll truly break a leg,” she said, massaging her hamstring.

“Look, misery is an equal-opportunity employer. It just recruits the older faster than the young.” Leslie’s tone was sympathetic. “You can’t give up the dancing. If you do, you’ll lose the newest MTV generation. You keep up with the music, but you must dance better than any newcomer. And they pop up fast.” He handed her a concoction of juices. “We’ll take a break and continue after lunch. How about an Oriental salad?”

All she could think of was that to sing “Flower Babies” she needed no dancing, but rather to see Lulu’s face on the projection screen of her eyes and let her mind roam through the rows of cribs of the Dying Rooms.

It occurred to her that she could be there right now, comforting the babies who had no one to love them. “Tell you what,” she told Leslie. “Bring that salad along. I want to show you a place that will change your life. Get the driver.”

Leslie placed a silver tray on the teakwood table in the center of the limousine. He unwrapped two bone-china salad bowls, ivory chopsticks and cloth napkins folded in the shapes of tulips. Yoram sat in front by the driver, munching on something from a brown paper bag.

Nola leaned her back against the door and put her feet up on the seat. Her gaze fell on a folded piece of paper tucked in the door pocket. She pulled it out.

“What’s that?” Leslie asked.

“Oh, Daniel's article I got at the embassy a couple of days ago.”

Leslie held his creamy-white chopsticks to the light and admired their inner glow. “I’ve unveiled a mystery that will interest you.”

“Oh?”

“Daniel Chen’s tragic love story.”

She twisted her head and stared out the window. “I’ve heard it.”

“You have? Well, there’s something positive to draw out of this story.”

She unfolded the photocopied article. “I can’t imagine what that would be.”

“A man capable of deep love can love again.”

If only she could frame her emotions and their disjointed logic. The breakup with Wade wasn’t helping her fight the attraction to Daniel.

“Well,” Leslie said, “Are you going to read us the article?”

She held up the article and stared at a highlighted blurb in the center. “The Chinese, chuckling behind their bamboo screens, act too polite to refuse the gesture, which they regard as an asinine, disingenuous Western notion of friendship....”