And if he could just give up without a fight, then he wasn’t losing sleep like she was. And that meant she was lovesick over someone who didn’t give a fig, and that made her furious. It was a self-loathing kind of fury, yes, but it was easier just to blame him. Much easier.

Feminine laughter seeped into her apartment from the hallway. Maybe one of the other tenants needed something. Aida opened the door to find a striking girl, not quite collegeaged, with ringlets of blond hair peeking beneath a soft pink hat. She stood next to a young black girl about the same age. Both girls were giggling, both carrying shirt boxes.

“Hiya,” the blonde said brightly, a little breathless. She looked familiar, but Aida couldn’t place where she’d seen her. Nor could she figure out why she was standing outside her door. Maybe they were here to call on someone else and got the apartment numbers confused.

“I’m Astrid Magnusson,” the girl said. “Winter’s sister.”

Aida’s chest tightened. “Oh. Uh . . . oh.” What in the world is she doing here?

“The woman at the restaurant counter let us come up. Your apartment is a hellish hike.”

“No elevator.”

“Someone needs to get one installed, and pronto. Can we come in? This is Benita, by the way.”

Benita smiled over the big shirt box. Her hair was bobbed a little shorter than Astrid’s, and she wore a pretty blue plaid dress with a bow at the neck under her coat. Aida greeted her and ushered them both inside.

“Benita’s my seamstress,” Astrid explained. “She can alter anything that doesn’t fit. She’s a genius. Gosh, this is a tiny apartment.” She deposited her box on Aida’s bed and looked around, wandering to the window. “Oh, but you can see the entire street. I love Chinatown. It must be so exciting to live here. Bo tells me stories all the time about growing up here.”

While Astrid chatted, Benita hefted the largest box onto the bed. It was stamped with a gold I. Magnin logo, a high-end department store downtown at Geary; Aida had gazed at their window displays, but she’d never been inside.

“Astrid?” she said.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?”

Winter’s sister smacked gum while giving her a crooked grin. “Winter sent me. He said you’d ripped your coat when he hurt his shoulder last week, something about a taxi hitting a telephone pole. He’s terrible at explaining things. He always leaves out the interesting parts.”

“That’s an understatement,” Aida murmured.

“Anyway,” Astrid continued, “he told me he’d promised to buy you a new coat, so he sent me out to find one. Bo helped me. He’s got an eye for fashion. Whenever I go shopping, he waits outside the dressing room and gives me his opinion when I model things for him.” She hesitated, grimacing. “Umm, don’t tell Winter about that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it—it’s not as if Bo sees me undressed or anything.”

Benita made a small noise.

“Hush,” Astrid told the girl, looking mildly embarrassed, but probably not as much as she should be. “That was an accident.”

Aida raised a brow.

“Anyway, all I’m saying is . . . well, I’ve forgotten now. Come on, take a look at what I picked out.”

“Astrid, this is really kind of you, but things may have changed since your brother asked you to do this.”

“He just asked me a few hours ago.”

“Oh.” Aida’s heart pattered inside her chest.

“Believe me, even if you’ve already found a new coat, this one is better. I’m so excited I can barely stand it. Don’t worry, I’ve got excellent taste.” The girls bent over Aida’s bed together. “Oh, I almost forgot. Let’s show her the gown, first.”

“Gown?” She was incapable of doing anything more than repeating Astrid’s words.

“I didn’t pick it out, but Winter showed me. He called it a ‘goddess dress,’ and he’s sort of right. It’s gorgeous. Hold on.” Benita untied the string on the smaller box and wiggled the top off. After pulling back layers of crinkly tissue paper, the girl lifted out a delicate oyster-colored sleeveless gown. It gathered over the shoulders with gold-threaded cords tied into long bows, and draped around the hips like a Greek chiton. Tiny freshwater pearls and golden beads danced across the sheer bodice.

Astrid and Benita both looked up at her with happy, expectant faces.

“It’s stunning,” Aida admitted.

“Look, the bodice is silk crepe-georgette. Two layers,” she said, slipping her slender fingers behind the fine, diaphanous material. “And when you look at it in the right light, you can see tiny peacock feathers embroidered on the skirt.”

Aida’s heart skipped a beat. She leaned in to inspect the fabric. Yes, it was Ju’s. The fabric Winter had liked. She never expected . . . well, she didn’t know what she expected.

“It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this.”

“Winter told me you’d say that. He also said you might be offended, angry, or stubborn.”

“Oh, did he now?”

She held up her hand. “Before you say anything else, let me show you the coat I found. If you say no to cashmere and fox, you’re either a fool or an idiot.”

Good grief, the girl had a mouth on her, didn’t she?

“Look, my brother thinks you hung the moon, so I hope you’re not planning on breaking his heart,” Astrid added, giving her a cool look. “He’s been through enough already.”