Gemma opened her compact to use her pressed powder. Her long hair, the color of white corn, was pulled back in a low ponytail. She always looked pale and tired during finals week, and this time was no exception. Except this time, her eyes—a startling deep teal color—were bright with something new. The spark was like a pang of hunger just as dinner was being pulled from the oven—so close to satisfaction, but not quite there. It was standing on a diving board, looking down from a great height. It was the final toll bridge on the long drive to a beach. Anticipation, she was learning, was most painful when you were close to the finish line.

The dean announced the beginning of the awards ceremony. Since the first day of her freshman year Gemma had dreamed of earning first prize in jewelry design; the NYSD Senior Award winners were profiled in The New York Times, and it was a distinction that awarded visibility to young artists and artisans at a time when they needed it the most, launching them into the real world.

For Gemma, it would have the added value of helping her reclaim what had been taken from her.

Her project was a jewelry collection she called Old New York. Gemma got the idea from visiting Sanjay at his job working the front desk of a historic hotel called the Casterbridge. The place captured her imagination the moment she walked into the lobby; it was like she’d stepped into a different century. The lobby walls were red damask and the room packed with heavy mahogany furniture. An entire wall was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all leather-bound volumes with wildly romantic titles: My Last Duchess, Wide Sargasso Sea, The Wings of the Dove. The guest rooms were named after classic English novelists like Browning, Rhys, Waugh, and Austen, spelled out on the doors in brass letters.

When Sanjay told her the hotel was being renovated and selling off all the old fixtures, she knew she needed the brass door letters to turn into charms.

Gemma saw the world through the lens of objects turned to jewelry. She spent every weekend scouring markets downtown or stoop sales in Brooklyn and Queens for knickknacks that could be turned into necklace charms. A lot of them reflected a little piece of Manhattan history, and all were affordable. She wanted people to feel they could build a jewelry collection without spending a fortune. Ideally, on pieces that represented something special to them.

Today, under her gown, Gemma wore a charm necklace that included a gold-plated Casterbridge “G,” a faceted aquamarine (her birthstone), and a gold and enamel daffodil—her favorite flower.

“Gemma? You have to go up onstage,” Sanjay whispered, nudging her from behind.

Applause surrounded her, and the dean stood onstage waiting expectantly. Had he just called her name?