It was housed in a ubiquitous redbrick building, narrow but three stories tall, with slender, arched windows framed by elegant white shutters. It was bright and early Tuesday morning, and Theodosia peered in the front window, trying to gauge exactly what kind of merchandise Duke’s gallery carried. She saw a Japanese tea set, an antique Japanese sword, a bronze Chinese vessel, a set of antique calligraphy brushes, and an array of carved Chinese jade statues. They all looked like exquisite pieces. Pushing open the front door, Theodosia figured she was probably the first customer of the day. An older woman, her silver-gray hair the precise color of her silk blouse, smiled from behind a mahogany counter that had probably been around since the eighteen hundreds. “Good morning,” said the clerk. “How may I help you?” “I’m looking for Harlan Duke,” said Theodosia.
