Later, Helena Ortiz returned with a municipal facilities officer to review the reopening arrangements. They examined the scaffolding, the wiring, and the paths through the hall. Colin’s fall meant the public could not enter until temporary work platforms were secured and cleared. Niko proposed moving all tools to a locked storage room and using floor-level exhibits rather than allowing anyone near ladders. The officer approved the plan conditionally, pending a final walkthrough the following morning.
“And the mural?” Helena asked.
“It will be displayed as it is,” Niko said. “We aren’t rushing any more paint onto it.”
Helena looked at the handprints, now lit from the side. “I’m glad,” she said. “It tells a more interesting story this way.”
Once the inspectors left, Cora sat on the floor, holding a clean brush across her knees. “I wanted to finish this so badly,” she confessed.
“You helped finish part of it,” Owen said.
“And the rest?”
“The rest may take longer than a week.”
Cora considered that, then put the brush into her box. She returned with a stack of plain cards and began writing what she had learned about the sections she had restored. Her handwriting was awkward and generous, full of arrows and small sketches. Visitors would understand more from those cards than from the polished publicity display that had been planned at the beginning.
CHAPTER SEVEN-C: THE LAST REHEARSAL
By Friday evening the bathhouse looked nothing like the room Etta had intended to unveil. Instead of a velvet rope directing visitors toward a single photograph, tables held clay, brushes, snapshots, and descriptions written in several different hands. An easel displayed the old and new designs side by side. The red ribbon remained partly hidden beneath white primer, but the surviving handprints were clear enough for people to follow.
There was still one problem. Iris had promised a short ceremony on Saturday, and the mayor’s office had already circulated a schedule naming Etta as the sole speaker. Canceling the ceremony entirely would deny the contributors a public moment; allowing Etta to deliver the original speech would undo much of the work they had done.
They gathered around the long table after the last volunteer left. Iris set down the printed schedule. Niko poured coffee into paper cups. Safiya placed the laptop where Leona could see everyone. Owen pulled up a chair for Thomas, who had insisted on remaining until the matter was settled.
“We need a plan that isn’t just a succession of apologies,” Iris said. “People came to celebrate the hall, not attend a public punishment.”
“And nobody should be forced to forgive anyone in front of an audience,” Mara added.
Etta, who had been standing near the door, took a seat at the end of the table. She had not been invited to lead the meeting. That alone seemed difficult for her. After a minute, she said, “I could introduce Leona.”
