Baruch meant “blessed.” He was her blessing. “Bernie,” she whispered.

“My Batya.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “Of all the letters of the alphabet, both our names begin with bet. We’re meant for each other.”

The moment felt ceremonial. Batya, not Esperanza, was being chosen. She smiled, unable to find more words of gratitude.

He drew her close and spoke into her hair. “Will you be my lifelong companion? It’s settled, then?”

Gently, she pulled back and cleared her throat. “There’s just one thing.”

“Moskowitz. I know. I’ll take care of it.”

She swallowed. “I’m saving to bring my family out of Russia.”

“Your parents?”

“My father and two sisters.” She couldn’t even mention their families. Nor Vida, the orphan baby sister she wanted to adopt. “Will you help me do that?”

Ulmann rose to his feet and looked down at her. “So you will be encumbered by taking care of them? That would negate the whole point of our arrangement.”

She felt herself falling off a cliff. Please, God, don’t let him rescind his offer. I can’t lose this good man. She stood up to face Ulmann. Her voice was sore to her own ears as she said, “Will you give me time to make the arrangements?”

He nodded, but the magic seemed to have evaporated from the room.

The next morning, Batya stood in her window, holding in her palm Ulmann’s promise—she still couldn’t think of him as Bernie. Her key to freedom. She closed her fist on it, feeling its long, cold shaft and its cluster of sharp teeth. How much time would he give her? His emotional needs would surely pressure her into a decision.

This was her one and only chance for happiness; there would never be another. The comfortable middle-class neighborhood of Barrio Norte wasn’t the expensive Recoleta, where some wealthy patrons installed their French mistresses, but the prospects of the new life awaiting Batya in her own home—a lifelong companion of only one man, a most pleasant gentleman—far exceeded the dreams of any polaca. Even if Ulmann wasn’t handsome, he dwelled in a world of beauty through his love of poetry and his exquisite jewelry. When she looked at him, she no longer saw his bland features, but rather his insightful soul that appreciated subtlety. In his sensitivity, Ulmann must have seen the purity of her heart—of Batya’s, not Esperanza’s. And even if he wasn’t wealthy, he seemed to have just enough to support both his family and a mistress. He was still young. With her encouragement, he would expand his business.