The first book in the Lydia Chin series, 2009

As always, I’m grateful for so much, including help and support from:

Steve Axelrod, my agent

Keith Kahla, my editor

The Atlantic Center for the Arts

Art Workshop International

Steven Blier, Hillary Brown, Belmont Freeman, Eve Rudin, Max Rudin, Noah Rudin, James Russell, Amy Schatz

Betsy Harding, Royal Huber, Tom Savage, Jamie Scott

Susanna Bergtold, Nancy Ennis, Josh Paynter, Sui Ling Tsang, Joseph Wallace

Peter Blauner, for advice he probably doesn’t remember giving

Ruth Gruber, for knowledge

Lee Hyla, for the right music and a lot of birds

Guillermo Kuitca, for understanding

B. G. Ritts, for priceless research

“I’m back.”

I dropped my suitcase, slipped off my shoes, and listened to familiar Chinatown sounds spill in the windows. Horns honked, delivery vans rumbled. Mr. Hu’s songbird trilled from the roof next door. I heard a child squeal with laughter and her grandmother scold in Cantonese: Hold my hand, you bad girl, or that fish truck will squash you flat.

And speaking of scolding in Cantonese, here came my mother.

“Who are you?” She shuffled from the kitchen and peered at me. “You look like my daughter, Ling Wan-ju, but I haven’t seen her in a long time. She went to California. She said she’d be back soon, but she stayed. I’m happy she’s having fun.”

My mother’s sarcasm could cut diamonds.

“Two extra weeks, Ma. And they’re your cousins.” I kissed her papery cheek, which she grudgingly allowed. “Have a good time while I was gone?”