Free The Ghost of Hannah Mendes by Naomi Ragen Page B

always been a spoiled, cowardly woman, and I see no reason to change now.”
    “ Abuela .” It was Suzanne’s turn to reach out for her across the table littered with the cold remnants of the odd meal. She had not used that childish term of endearment for many years.
    “Don’t you dare cry, Suzanne! That’s why I’ve taken you to this public place. You know how I hate emotional scenes. I have something I need to ask of you. Yes, it’s blackmail, the worst sort of blackmail. A dying request. There is no way you can get out of it, so just set your mind on doing it.”
    Suzanne gulped down the last of her Chinese tea.
    “That’s right. Not a word. You’re trapped, so just listen. I want you to do a job for me. A little research. I have in my safe a few pages of memoirs written in Portuguese by one of our distant Spanish ancestors. I want you to help me track down the rest of it.”
    “How distant?”
    “It was written in the 1500s.”
    Suzanne looked at her speculatively.
    “I know a little bit about finding rare books and manuscripts. Your grandfather Carl was a great collector, you know.”
    “What’s it about?”
    “Doña Gracia Mendes. She was a young widow with a small child when she inherited the greatest fortune and one of the most successful trading companies in Europe. She was an intimate of kings and queens. And then, for no apparent reason, she just fled, and began openly declaring herself a Jew.”
    “So, you already know what happened?”
    “Yes and no. I’ve read about her in some history books. I more or less know what she did. But none of the books explain why.” She peered into Suzanne’s face. It looked blank. “How can I can make you understand? It was like a rich German aristocrat in the middle of Berlin in 1936 calling Hitler and telling him that he’d decided to be a Jew! I mean, it was the height of the Inquisition. People were being burned for changing their linens on Fridays, or because no smoke came out of their chimneys on Saturdays, never mind praying in synagogues! And the Inquisition didn’t just burn you—they tortured you until you implicated every last member of your family. Then they confiscated every scrap of money or property you owned and turned it over to the Church and King; they took your children away and put them into monasteries or convents. She had so much to lose. In some ways, it was insane for her to behave as she did, yet, incredibly brave as well. I don’t know. I’ve never really understood. She had everything. Why did she risk so much? So will you do it for me?”
    “Do what?”
    “Travel to Europe to look for the manuscript.”
    “ Abuela , I can’t just pick myself up and…First of all, you can hire a dozen scholars to do this for you who know Spanish and Portuguese. Who are at home in the book stacks of old, nasty libraries all over Europe. Besides, if you’re ill, I think I should be here.”
    Catherine hesitated. “I don’t know if I can make you understand. But I feel I’ve let someone, something, down badly. I’ve betrayed some kind of commitment, some trust. I didn’t have much else to do in life, and the little that was my duty, I didn’t do it. I don’t want to hire someone to give me a report, the way I hired maids to polish and dust my heirloom silver. Before I die, I want to understand where it is I come from, and what it’s all meant. It’s really a family matter, and not some archaeological dig. You’re my family.” She shrugged. “I’m asking you to help me.”
    Suzanne looked at her blankly, flustered. The whole thing was ridiculous: traipsing around Europe in the hopes of finding a few more pages of a manuscript that had been missing for hundreds of years. Trying to find motivations for a long-dead ancestor by cruising along the Grand Canal, or walking through the streets of London. How could you ever really know anybody’s motives, even your best friend’s, let alone someone who lived hundreds of years ago?
    “I