“And prejudice,” I said, “makes me equally fatigued. I’m quite familiar with it, you know; I lived almost all of my life in Nazi Germany. I’ve also watched my father resist it.”
“Does that make him a hero,” Professor Franklin said, “or a traitor?”
“Ah, very good,” I said. “I’m sure many would agree with you. To me, of course, he was a very great hero, for some things are of higher value even than patriotism, and one of them is human decency. My father was the King of Saxony, you see, and my mother the Queen. I am the Princess of Saxony, but I’m also Marguerite Stark, an immigrant whose English is imperfect and whose education is incomplete, married to a Jew who is the best man I’ve ever known. I’ve known hunger, I’ve known fear, and both Joe and I have seen the worst evils people can inflict on one another, pursued deliberately as a mission. With my mother’s emeralds, though, we hope to make our own tiny mark on the world, our own small light in the darkness.”
I stood, then, and Joe stood with me as I said, “So, no, Professor Franklin, we’re not going to raise up all the oppressed. We’re going to raise up one at a time. And watch them soar.”
33
MOVING UP
On a sunny Saturday afternoon in March, Joe had just gouged his finger with a screwdriver while removing cabinet doors in one of the kitchens of our newly purchased apartment building. He was uttering a few choice words when we heard a cheery, “Ahoy there!” and turned to find Fred and Susie coming through the door.
“Hi,” Joe said, taking the finger from his mouth and shaking the injured hand as if that would help. “Are we talking like sailors now?”
“Well,youare,” Fred said. “So I figured I’d join in. Love what you’ve done with the place.”
“That was a joke,” Susie explained to me.
“Oh,” I said. “Itisrather dismal at the moment, but it will be much more tidy and attractive when we’re done, or so I hope. What do you think of the color outside?”
“Sage green,” Susie said. “Looks great, and pastels are in. I’m hurt that you didn’t ask me, though.”
“You were gone for the holiday break when we needed to decide,” I said. “Because I thought the painter would getstarted sooner. First there was another project to finish, then rain, andthenhe was going on holiday with his family.”
“Imagine that,” Susie said, “a guy wanting to take a family vacation. What a bum. What are you doing in here? Need a hand?”
“Oh, only about as much as I’ve ever needed anything in my life,” Joe said. “I don’t want to promote any stereotypes, but Jewish boys don’t tend to be the stars of shop class. I’ve got a lot to learn if I’m going to be a landlord. Especially one that doesn’t go broke because he can’t fix a darn thing by himself.”
“We unclogged that blocked sewer line all right, though,” Fred said. “It’s just a matter of having the tools and knowing how. Got another screwdriver? Marguerite, stop wrestling with that drawer and let me get it.”
“My wife is the most brilliant woman I’ve ever known,” Joe said, “but I wouldn’t say she’s the most patient. Marguerite, take your notebook and go make executive decisions with Susie while Fred and I get on with this.”
I obeyed—I didn’t have much choice, as matters were literally taken out of my hands—and Susie said, “Whatever you do, it’ll be an improvement.” She looked around at the scarred countertops, the cabinets with their chipped paint, the dull, scratched wood floors and dingy walls. “But it has possibilities. Do all the apartments look like this?”
“Yes,” I said. “Would you like to see?”
We climbed the stairs to the third floor—the newel posts were as dingy and dull as the carpets and floors—and I said, “One two-bedroom and four one-bedroom apartments on each floor. The view is rather nice up here, I think.”
“The outside already looks better,” Susie said.
“You’re clearly trying to find something positive to say,” I said, “for it really doesn’t, not yet. But it will. The rot in some of the windows has already been corrected, and when theframes are scraped and painted—very dark green, I thought; do you agree?—it will be lovely.”
“Mm,” Susie said. “Beautiful plaster medallions on the ceilings, and nice chandeliers.”
“Yes,” I said. “For the inside—here I would most definitely like your advice. The flooring man will come in after the kitchens and bathrooms are improved, but before the painting; this seems to be the correct sequence. He’ll sand and refinish the floors, and then apply varnish. I thought this might be a job Joe and I could do, but it’s apparently very dirty and more complicated than it looks.”
“I should just about think so,” Susie said. “And here the poor guy thought he was going to be a lawyer and keep his hands clean!”
“Yes,” I said absently. “So in the hallways—would sage green walls and the dark green doors work there as well, do you think? Or should I use white paint instead? I’ll be replacing the lights, of course, but a light color is better, don’t you agree?”
“Definitely,” Susie said. “So gloomy otherwise. Maybe patterned wallpaper on the bottom and sage green above, though? That way you wouldn’t notice any dings in the paint. Have you picked the hallway carpet yet?”
“No. There are so many choices, I don’t know where to begin.”
“Let me do it with you,” she said. “Sample books? Oh, pretty please. I love this stuff. And in the apartments—it’s all about the pastels now, like I said. Green is calming, but butter yellow is more cheerful. Very pale, you know, but like sunshine on the wall. And once you get these windows washed, you’ll see a big difference. Whoownedthis place?”
“The rents were very cheap, I understand,” I said. “Joe cleaned out rather a number of mouse nests in the basement.The yellow will be nice, I think. And in the kitchens … there I don’t know.”
