Vasara sucks in her breath. She swivels in her office chair and closes her eyes. Her trip to Riga belongs to another era, relegated to a dusty corner of her brain, the door shut f ...

“I wonder if he really is my father. Farmer Gudaitis said he was a silversmith. How many silversmiths could there have been in the Lithuanian underground?”

He wants her to bring this money back when she returns? She is about to leave this all behind. There’s a chance she will never return

“Didn’t she tell you? Her mother wants her back in Lithuania. From what she’s told me, I doubt she actually wants to go back and live there”

“So… I know I’m Jewish. You know. Just like you. I can’t explain it, but it makes me happy to know that”

It is an old — a very old — photo album. Daina clutches the album gingerly, afraid to disturb the cracked, crackly sheets of plastic

Vasara clenches her fists and punches the stuffy air. Mission accomplished. Sort of. At least the first part has gone according to plan

Vasara hopes the guard has followed through on his promise to leave the archive building unlocked for the night