She took a deep breath. “It seems almost fated, and I’d be a fool not to jump at it.”
“Where do you want the washer-dryer?”
“Put it in the space at the end of the bathroom. One of those stacked sets. They’re a little over two feet square, not big enough for a large load but okay for one person. You’ve already got a drain and the water pipes right there.”
“Do you have furniture you want to move in?”
She started to tell him she wasn’t going to move anything, then caught herself. Her arrangements should remain her own business. The Albuquerque house was in foreclosure. The furniture was all old, well worn. There was nothing there she cared about except a few little things that had belonged to Mami and Abuelita.
“Furniture?” he said again, softly.
“Nothing else right now,” she said in a firm, no nonsense voice. “I’ll make do with what’s here for the time being. Later I can supplement.”
“Fine. I’ll call the carpenter, the painters and plumbers first, then the cleaning agency to come clean it up when they’re finished. You make a list of what you’ll need. I can advance some salary if you need.”
“That’s thoughtful of you, Simon, but I have money, thank you. A little . . . inheritance from an old friend of my mother’s.”
She stayed upstairs, making a list: linens and towels, blankets and pillows, dishes, kitchen stuff. If she made one stop at a kitchen store for little stuff and bought everything else out of a catalog, they’d deliver it. Like from Pennys. Or Wards. It wouldn’t be high style, but a sheet was a sheet and a mixing bowl was a mixing bowl, for heaven’s sake. Get the basics, worry about how it looked later on.
Back in Simon’s office, she borrowed his phone book, found the nearest catalog store and went there. Two hours concentration and several thousand more of the ET money gone, she had ordered everything she needed, plus some bookcases, on sale, minor assembly required, tall enough to make a partition separating the bedroom area. With the shelves facing out, she could put sheetrock on the backs. It would help the place look less empty as well as providing a little privacy.
She bought lunch at a little side street restaurant, meantime glancing at a newspaper someone had left in the booth.
MASSACRE IN CENTRAL AFRICA
TRIBAL CONFLICT RENEWED
RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR THREATENS U.N. WALKOUT
SERB WAR CRIME TRIAL IN JEOPARDY
RENEWED VIOLENCE IN ISRAEL
PALESTINIANS VOW “NEW HOLOCAUST”
SENATOR URGES IMPEACHMENT OF PRESIDENT
MORSE SAYS “UNFIT TO SERVE”
SCIENTISTS DETECT “DISAPPEARING” ASTEROIDS
OBJECTS VANISHED, SAY ASTRONOMERS
SAUDI WOMAN TO BE EXECUTED FOR DRIVING CAR
REBEL PRINCESS SENTENCED TO STONING
ELEVEN DISAPPEAR IN NORTH WOODS
LUMBERMEN ALLEGE ECO-TERRORISM
It seemed the world was going on as usual. After lunch, she walked to the Smithsonian and spent two hours seeing this and that, until her feet were too sore to walk any further. She took a cab back to the hotel, had a hot bath and crawled into bed, feeling much more tired than the morning’s activities warranted. After a little nap, she’d get ready to meet the two aliens again. She wondered very much what they would look like this time.
Benita—WEDNESDAY EVENING
Benita was in the hotel lobby, her coat over her arm, when Mr. Chad Riley arrived and introduced himself.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked, surprised.
“General Wallace gave me a description, ma’am. Let me help you with your coat.” He held it for her. “The general’s waiting in the car.”
“You’re very prompt,” the general greeted her when she got into the seat beside him. On the other side of a glass partition, Mr. Riley seated himself beside a driver, who evidently knew where they were going. They slid away, the streets suddenly made of satin, either that or they were in a low-flying plane of some kind. Not a bump or a ripple, like floating!
“What kind of car is this?” she asked, enchanted.
“A very, very expensive one,” the general said with a grunt. “The kind they keep for visiting dignitaries. No, don’t tell me. You’re not a dignitary.”