At the conclusion of the first round, some competing couples were eliminated. The excitement in the audience was palpable as they cheered and clapped upon the entrance of each of the remaining couples for the second round. When Batya and Sergio remained in the competition for the final round with two other couples, Batya hoped that she’d stumble and fall and they’d lose. Within moments, though, as the music flooded her, and with Sergio’s arm on her back guiding her in long, fluid steps across the dance floor, her feet became light, and she double-stepped and swerved, loving showing off that she wasn’t merely a prostitute, the metziah that the store matron had dismissed.

The judges took a short break to cast their votes. Batya was catching her breath in the back, drinking water, when the three couples were summoned again to the stage.

To her disbelief, the chief judge declared that Sergio and his rising star partner, Esperanza, had won.

During the dreamlike party that followed, with food and champagne and words of adulation, Batya cast away all that troubled her. She had caught sight of Ulmann after her performance, when she was swept off the stage by the other competing couples, who offered their congratulations—the men more genuinely than the women. When she met Ulmann’s eyes, he winked at her, then, not one to enjoy a festivity, turned to leave. She liked that he’d watched her dance. My man, she thought, surprising herself with the words. If only accepting him didn’t mean rejecting her family.

Moskowitz worked the room, eyeing the men who eyed her, dropping hints and open invitations. Before the party was over, he signaled to Batya that it was time to return to the house.

Sergio took her palms in his. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry that you must leave. I’ll come see you in two days.”

The shop owner’s assistant waited in the wings to accompany the dress and Batya back to the shop. With a pang of sorrow, Batya changed into her own clothes. The flower in her hair had wilted, but the theatrical makeup stayed on.

It was only ten o’clock when she returned to the pavilion. Clients were awaiting the new star, and Moskowitz raised the fees paid for her services.

Chapter Forty-Five

The pressure from Ulmann’s dilemma was dwarfed by the weight of the stolen ledger. Moskowitz was bound to discover Batya’s ticket to freedom hiding in plain sight. The more her dream of escaping felt within her reach, the more desperate she became about her slavery. Some days, she vomited after yet another physical contact with a stranger. Securing the ledger somewhere safe would ease one worry.