She gaped. “Well … a lot of Spanish settlers in the new world were secretly Jewish, because of the Inquisition, you know. But if my family was, they kept it a secret from me.”
“No lighting candles on Friday nights? No keeping two sets of dishes?”
She shook her head. Actually, Grandma had lighted candles on Friday night, and every other night. They hadn’t had electricity until just a few years before she died.
Simon continued, “I just thought it might explain something. The spokesman wouldn’t tell me how they found out about you, and he said you knew nothing about them, but nonetheless, the crew poured in all day yesterday, nobody would talk to me except the one older guy, who looked awfully familiar, come to think of it, and they didn’t leave until dawn.”
“What on earth were they doing?”
“Wait until you see!”
She smelled it first. A strong combination of new paint, new carpet and sawdust. The loft had been transformed. The ceiling had been lowered and covered with drywall dotted with recessed light fixtures. Along the line of columns, all the way to the ceiling, a substantial partition had been built that included bookshelves on the living room side as well as a built-in desk with computer terminal and modem. The bedroom had a closet and a door and both rooms were now furnished tastefully. Curtains on traverse rods covered the windows, and two colorful oriental rugs covered most of the living room floor, which had obviously been sanded and waxed. Another big rug softened the bedroom.
A washer-dryer had been installed. New light fixtures glowed discreetly. The bed was made up and covered by a colorful spread. Extra linens and towels were stacked in the cabinet. Kitchen equipment, dishes, pots and pans were on the shelves. Here and there were Mami’s things. Her sewing basket. The little carved box she’d kept her few treasures in. A quilt Mami’s grandmother, Benita’s great-grandmother, had made. Everything had been furnished, even a large dog bed and FIDO food and water dish.
“They got everything,” she said. “Except the dog.”
He muttered in a dazed voice, “The guy said he had specific instructions how it was to be finished, and he told me to tell you the dog would be here as soon as you move in.”
“What was this outfit called?” she asked, awed.
He pulled a scrap of paper from his breast pocket. “Fundacion Circulo del Alto Mando. He said in English it means the Brass Ring Foundation.” Simon tented his eyebrows at her.
“Yes, it means that, sort of,” she said, hiding her amusement. It sounded like General Wallace was the alto mando, or “big brass,” who had done the talking. She couldn’t imagine General McVane making puns for her benefit.
“He said you caught the brass ring on the merry-go-round. Have you ever heard of them?”
“Never before now,” she told him. “How strange. And wonderful, of course. For me.”
“Well, me too. It saved me a hell of a lot of work. And money. I never knew the place could look this great. I told the guy I’d have to raise your rent, and he told me not to try it unless I wanted a great deal of trouble. When he said it, he sounded more like a … commanding officer than a representative of some charity. With the dark glasses and the hat pulled down, I couldn’t really see who he was.
She said sympathetically, “They’d gone to so much trouble, I suppose they didn’t want anything to spoil it.”
There was no reason not to move in at once and no reason to go back to the hotel except to pick up her bag. Simon drove her over and waited for her. As she paid the bill, however, she remembered the furniture and supplies she’d ordered by catalogue. From a lobby pay phone she called the store and spun them a story. Family emergency. She had to go back to Colorado. Would they refund? Yes, the woman said, on non-sale items. Where would the check come from? From their warehouse complex in Atlanta, where all the computers were. Fine, said Benita. Cancel the order and refund what they could, please, in care of Angelica Shipton, at such-and-such an address in California.