Chapter 42

“Where are the rest of your clothes?” I asked. God ... I’m thinking about clothes? Aren’t I always.

“I had to leave everything. You have no idea what’s been happening in the last five years. Franco is gone and the power struggle is tremendous. What is that line in that song? I hope we don’t get fooled again?”

“What have you been doing these past few months?”’

“Learning to be a lady ... Karen ... it’s nothing to laugh about ... it is isn’t it.” Finally under control, she said, “Casilda ... the Duchess was positively livid about my clothes. And I quote, “Have you no sense of style? We have a position to maintain.” I got sent to my room, over my lack of decorum. 18 years old and sent to my room! Hunger will convince one to take ones sister more seriously.”

“Home, please, Mel. And shut the division glass.” The first was a request ... the last was an order. The glass partition rolled up. I slid home the lock. Mel ... or any driver ... can’t unlock it from the front.

“What seems to be the problem, Anna?”

“The Banco Urquijo.”

“What is that?”

“An Investment Bank. People with money deposit funds in the bank, the bank loans your money ... at interest ... for Projects. Córdoba has a significant percentage of our liquidity on deposit with the Banco. Not necessarily because of the interest but because the owner, María Lourdes de Urquijo owns the Bank.”

“Who is that?”

“María Lourdes de Urquijo?” Anna said.

I nodded.

“María Lourdes de Urquijo, is the 5thMarchioness of Urquijo and Casilda’s very good friend,” Anna said. “The Banco isn’t doing very well. The Marchioness has a daughter ... in London, London is expensive. Miriam de la Sierra y Urquijo, married Rafael Escobedo ... a very handsome young man. A year after the marriage ... in 1979 ... Miriam began keeping company with an American, Richard Dennis Rew, Dick the American. Escobedo, the husband, isn’t happy. The Banco is losing money, Casilda isn’t happy ... You know the saying in America. If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. She’s not my momma but ... I’ve been saving my allowance. I had to get out of there. El Patrón was my first thought...”

“El Patrón?” I said, “Are you crazy? He would send you home.”

“That’s why I came here. I should have come with you when you asked,” Annalise said, “But, family ... I should have remembered who sent me to a backwater town like Sheridan in the first place.

“Anyway, there are people fleeing Spain all the time ... what’s one more?”

“Passport?”

“Colombia.”

Two days before, Casilda Ghisla Guerrero-Burgos y Fernández de Córdoba, Duchess, Grandee and pissed off sister, was on the phone, “Listen to me you ... revolutionary ... Hello ... hello...”

A second call, “El Patrón?”

“What do you mean?”