Stealing Magic

by Marianne Malone

  Ten seconds passed, seeming like minutes. The woman at the window who had spoken to them so curtly a few days earlier peered from behind the lace curtain and then walked away from the window into the darkness of her apartment. She gave them shivers. Then they heard a voice calling from overhead. They looked up to see Louisa on the balcony waving.

  “Bonjour, Ruthie and Jack! Please come up to the fourth floor!” They heard the click of the big door unlocking. The mean woman returned to the window and leaned out, yelling something up to Louisa. Ruthie couldn’t understand what she was saying, but they could hear its icy intent. They slipped inside before the woman could turn her attention to them.

  They found themselves in a covered walkway wide enough for cars. Directly in front of them a courtyard opened to the sky, a few 1930s automobiles parked around the center. On their right was a door to what must have been the apartment of the grumpy window lady, and on the left, three steps led to an entry hall. The floor was marble and a spiral staircase wrapped around an elevator that resembled a fancy birdcage.

  “Stairs or elevator?” Ruthie asked, reluctant to climb into the contraption.

  “Elevator, for sure,” Jack said. “It’s awesome.”

  They slid open the accordion-style metal gate. The elevator was only big enough for two, maybe three people at most. A brass panel with black buttons marked the floors. “Fourth floor, right?” Jack asked, pushing the button.

  “Right.” Ruthie’s nerves jangled as they ascended, and she wasn’t sure if this antique appliance or their imminent meeting was the cause. She tried to keep her mind focused on what she was going to say to Louisa. This couldn’t be a simple friendly visit. They slowly passed the first three floors and then the elevator stopped abruptly, giving a little bounce, at the fourth. Jack slid open the gate.

  There was only one door in the small hallway and no doorbell, but in the center of the door was a knob that looked like it should be turned, so Ruthie did. The highly polished metal felt cool to her touch. Through the heavy wooden door she heard the clang of a real bell.

  Louisa opened the door and hugged them like old friends. “Hello! I am so happy to see you; I worried that I might not! Please come in. Mutter, Vater, komm hier!” Ruthie and Jack knew she was speaking German, but it sounded just like “Mother, Father, come here.”

  The apartment in front of them was quite elegant and large. It looked exactly like something out of the Thorne Rooms.

  “Wow, nice place,” Jack said.

  “Thank you.” Louisa led them into the living room. The off-white walls looked like they’d been decorated with cake icing: carved flowers and ribbons ran along the tops near the equally ornate ceiling. An old smoky mirror hung over the marble fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains framed the French doors that led to small balconies overlooking rue Le Tasse and the Jardins du Trocadéro. The furniture was just as lavish.

  “Welcome,” Louisa’s mother greeted them as she entered. Her German accent was thicker than Louisa’s. “You must be the Americans Louisa told us about. Please sit down.” She motioned to a silk-covered sofa.

  “May I offer you some tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Ruthie replied.

  “What have you been doing during your visit to Paris?” Louisa asked. “You should have come to see me sooner!”

  “We did come,” Ruthie said. “The woman downstairs in the window told us you were away in the country and wouldn’t be back until yesterday.”

  Louisa and her mother looked at each other, saying something in German. Louisa explained, “We were here, but perhaps just out for an hour or two. She doesn’t like us and gives us trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Jack asked.

  “She is our concierge—how do you say it in English? Doorman? Sometimes she won’t give us our mail for days, and she tells visitors we have moved away!”

  “Enough of such unpleasantness,” Mrs. Meyer broke in. “How do you like Paris?”

  “We like it very much, thank you,” Ruthie answered. “It’s a beautiful city.”

  “Louisa tells me you are from Chicago.”

  “That’s right.”

  “We have never been to Chicago. Only New York. Someday I should like to see all of the United States.”

  “We should, Mutter,” Louisa enjoined. “We could visit them in Chicago!”

  “Perhaps when all these unsettling events are concluded, we shall.” The way Mrs. Meyer said “unsettling events” made Ruthie think she didn’t understand how bad it was going to be. At that moment Louisa’s father came in.

  “Good afternoon! You must be Jack and Ruthie from Chicago!” He strode over to shake hands. “Will you stay for lunch?” Only a hint of German could be heard in his English.

  “You must stay!” Louisa insisted.

  Thinking fast, Jack said, “We have to meet our dad in a little less than an hour.”

  “Well, then, that will give you just enough time.” Dr. Meyer was the kind of person you couldn’t say no to.

  They sat at a long, formally set table in the dining room. Dr. Meyer was seated at the head and Mrs. Meyer at the other end. A maid appeared and went from place to place, serving soup. Ruthie wasn’t sure which forks and spoons to use, and neither was Jack. He looked at her and made a funny face, which almost made her laugh. Ruthie glanced at Louisa, who was holding the rounder spoon, so she picked hers up as well. As soon as Mrs. Meyer took a taste, Louisa began. Ruthie followed suit. It was some kind of potato soup, and it was delicious.

  “So, what does your father do that brings him to Paris?” Dr. Meyer asked.

  “Import-export,” Jack said.

  “Wine?” Dr. Meyer asked.

  “Exactly,” Jack said.

  “Tell me, what does he think of the current world situation?” he inquired.

  “He has a lot of opinions about that,” Ruthie said, relieved he had brought up the subject.

  “I am most interested. Could you explain?”

  “He knows lots of people in business and government. They predict there will be a war with Hitler,” Ruthie answered.

  Louisa’s mother put down her spoon.

  “Our father is trying to finish up his business in France because he thinks it will be very bad here too,” Jack added.

  “This is what some have been saying,” Dr. Meyer said. Louisa’s eyes were wide.

  “And what is President Roosevelt’s view?” Mrs. Meyer asked. Her expression had gotten very serious.

  “I’m not positive about the president’s position,” Jack admitted. “But I am sure that all of our dad’s Jewish friends think their relatives should come to the United States—as soon as they can.”

  “He says it won’t be safe, even here in Paris. You must believe us,” Ruthie implored, hoping that her voice carried the urgency she felt.

  “But surely Hitler can’t control Paris,” Mrs. Meyer said in disbelief.

  “Dad and his business partners are sure he will,” Jack responded.

  “Did anybody think Hitler could do the things he’s already done in Germany?” Ruthie asked.

  Dr. Meyer nodded when Ruthie said that, and then he was very quiet; Mrs. Meyer looked at him for a response. “We could stay with our family in New York,” he said after a moment.

  “You should. You really should,” Ruthie pressed, finding it difficult to stay calm.

  “But what about our home in Berlin?” Louisa sounded quite upset.

  “Home is wherever we are together.” Dr. Meyer reached over to her and gave her hand a squeeze. “Besides, it looks as though the German government won’t be giving me back my license to practice medicine anytime soon. I received another denial yesterday. I want to work.”

  Just then the front door opened and a disheveled-looking boy tumbled in. He appeared about a year or two older than Louisa and was wearing some sort of team uniform. His curly dark hair was messed up and he had dirt—and a very angry look—on his face.

  Mrs. Meyer r
ushed to him. “Jacob! What happened?”

  “After the game some of the other team’s players followed me home. They started fighting with me,” he said, taking off his sport shoes.

  “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” Mrs. Meyer fussed over him.

  “I’m fine. They called me names. So I fought back and they finally stopped.”

  Dr. Meyer got up from the table to see his son. Louisa leaned forward and said softly to them, “That’s my brother, Jacob. There are boys on the teams who fight with anyone who is Jewish. It’s happened before.”

  “That stinks,” Jack said.

  After Jacob went to clean up, his parents whispered to each other in the entryway for some time before coming back to the dining room.

  A few minutes later Jacob—now all cleaned up—came to the table, where the maid had just set a bowl of soup for him. “I’m hungry!”

  “Jacob! Your manners!” Mrs. Meyer admonished. “This is Ruthie and Jack, Louisa’s friends who are visiting from Chicago. This is my son, Jacob.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Jacob came around to shake hands with them. Jack surprised Ruthie by actually standing up to greet him.

  “What’s your sport?” Jack asked.

  “Football,” Jacob replied. “Do you play?”

  “Yeah, some. We call it soccer in the States. I play on our school team.”

  “How about baseball; do you ever play that?” Jacob asked eagerly.

  “Yeah. It’s a summer sport, though.”

  “Ruthie, Jack, you two have been most helpful,” Dr. Meyer said. “I had been thinking about the possibility of an extended visit to our relatives in New York. What you’ve said has brought me to a decision.”

  “I think it’s a really good idea,” Ruthie said emphatically.

  “And your father is so certain that this war will take place?” Mrs. Meyer asked.

  “It’s gonna happen, for sure,” Jack said.

  “You can’t stay in Europe with the war coming,” Ruthie stressed. “Your whole family would be in danger.”

  Dr. Meyer declared, “We will go.”

  Jacob smiled at the prospect. “I could join a baseball team! Let’s stay long enough for me to play for at least one whole season.” He turned to Jack to explain, “No one plays baseball here in Europe. We could see the Yankees play!”

  Frieda, the little dachshund, appeared at Louisa’s side. Louisa picked up the dog, burying her face in the shiny coat.

  “Louisa, liebchen,” her mother began.

  “I can’t help it. I miss home. I want to go home.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Even knowing without a doubt that what she and Jack had done was the right thing, Ruthie still felt partially responsible for this terrible upheaval in Louisa’s world.

  “I’m sorry, Louisa. But you’ll get to go back to Berlin someday.” Ruthie hoped that was the right thing to say. Louisa sniffled and smiled.

  “Thanks.” She wiped her tears with her napkin. “Can we bring Frieda, Vater?”

  “Of course; she is a member of the family!” he answered.

  Jack caught Ruthie’s eye and tapped his watch. Jacob noticed. “That’s an interesting watch. I’ve never seen one like that!”

  Jack wore a chunky black watch with extra dials on the face and set pins on the side. “They’re pretty common in Chicago,” he responded.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave,” Ruthie apologized. “Our father will be worried if we’re late.”

  “Are you sure?” Louisa asked. “At least give me your address in Chicago.” Louisa jumped up and retrieved some paper and a pencil from a nearby desk.

  Before Ruthie could make any excuses the paper was on the table in front of her, the whole family watching. Ruthie started writing, knowing full well that any letter Louisa sent to her would never reach her; the building she lived in hadn’t even been built until the 1960s. Then she remembered Mrs. McVittie’s building; it was old and had been built early in the twentieth century. She wrote “in care of” and then Mrs. McVittie’s name and address.

  They said goodbye and wished each other good luck, and Louisa hugged Ruthie. The whole family stepped into the hall with them as they waited for the elevator. It arrived and the two visitors got in. Jack slid the gate closed in the elevator, and they descended out of Louisa’s life.

  “I HEAR SOMETHING,” JACK CAUTIONED. “LISTEN.”

  They were standing in room E27, having just finished climbing up the spiral staircase. They’d been away from the gala for nearly an hour.

  Ruthie listened for a moment. “I don’t hear anything. What was it?”

  “Not sure. It might have been the corridor door opening and closing.” He walked through the room and back out to the ledge. Ruthie followed, stopping as Jack looked carefully before going all the way out to the enormous space. “C’mon,” he said, judging it to be all clear.

  Then Ruthie heard something too. From farther along in the corridor came the sound of what she thought must be the stepladder—the one Dora had asked the workmen to leave for her—unfolding. They hurried to the next corner and peeked. Ruthie put her hand to her mouth.

  At the midpoint of the corridor, they saw her, about five feet away from them. Dora, in her red cocktail dress and high heels, had just climbed to the top of the stepladder—which put her feet level with the ledge. Ruthie knew instantly what she was about to do. They stood watching; she opened her small evening bag and reached into it. In a flash, they saw happen to Dora what they had only ever seen happen to each other. Her hair was pulled back tightly but they still could see the effect of the breeze as it ruffled the hem of her silky dress. They watched as her eyes widened, and in a blur Ruthie saw the red dress hang too loosely for a second, then shrink to fit her, over and over again. It was amazing to see how swiftly and fluidly the magic acted on her. From as far away as Ruthie and Jack were, they could still see Dora’s astonished reaction.

  In a moment, Dora was just under six inches tall. She inhaled deeply, smoothed her hair and stepped off the top of the ladder and onto the ledge, disappearing from their view as she entered the framework of Room E23.

  Jack looked at Ruthie. “What’s in that room—do you know?”

  “I think it’s a French dining room. What do you think we should do now?”

  “Keep an eye on her.”

  “What if she sees us?” Ruthie asked.

  “She already knows we know about the magic. She owes us the explanation, so we’ll just ask for one. And the key.”

  Sometimes Jack’s clarity astonished Ruthie. Of course that’s what we should do, she thought.

  Ruthie guessed Dora wouldn’t be in the room too long. “I don’t think it’s one of her favorites. Let’s see what she does next.”

  Sure enough, in about a minute, she came out again, and walked along the corridor. The next room was E24. “That’s Sophie’s room!” Ruthie whispered. “We can’t let her take anything from in there.”

  “Then let’s go and stop her before she does.”

  Ruthie knew he was right—they had to confront her. They hurried to the entrance of the room. Jack looked at Ruthie and stepped aside for her to go in first.

  Dora’s back was to them. She stood in front of the fireplace, inspecting objects on the mantel; a mirror over it reflected Ruthie’s image as she entered the room. It also reflected Dora’s face, so Ruthie could see her look of shock and then a quick correction to surprise.

  “Ruthie! And Jack!” Turning to face them, she spoke as if they’d bumped into each other on the street. “What are you doing here?”

  “We came with Jack’s mom to the gala and wanted to come down here while we had the chance,” Ruthie answered.

  “You must be wondering how I did this,” she said. “And I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?”

  Jack answered fast. “We know lots of ways to shrink.”

  “Really?” Dora arched an eyebrow.

  “You have our k
ey, don’t you?” Ruthie asked, trying to remain calm.

  “Well, yes, I have the key. I borrowed it from you two, just as you two borrowed it from whomever you borrowed it from.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask?” Ruthie said.

  “You see, I had a bit of a problem,” Dora began. “The curator gave me permission to remove a few items from the rooms to study them for my thesis. This was about two months ago. Most of the items were miniatures and stayed small. But a few of the items suddenly grew large as I was leaving the museum. Naturally, I was shocked and had no idea how that could happen!”

  “And you didn’t know how to put the full-sized objects back,” Jack finished for her.

  “That’s exactly right,” Dora said, warming to her story. “I could put the miniature pieces back in their places, but I didn’t know what to do with the ones that grew.”

  “I can see what a big problem that was, can’t you, Jack?” Ruthie said.

  “Really big,” he agreed.

  “And that day when I took you back into the corridor and you told me about the magic, I could barely believe it. But at the same time it made sense because I’d experienced those objects growing right in my tote bag.” She watched their expressions carefully to see if Ruthie and Jack believed her.

  “But why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

  “I didn’t want to get you mixed up in my mess. And I only needed to use the key to put the objects back.”

  “Have you put them back?” Ruthie asked.

  “Not yet. I was too nervous to try the key while the museum was open. I thought tonight would be the perfect time to at least find out if the key would work for me. But it would have been tricky to bring the objects back during the gala.” She held up the small evening bag she carried to emphasize the point. “But tell me, how did you get small without the key?”

  “My phone!” Jack said, reaching into his pocket, pretending it was vibrating. He looked at the blank screen as though reading a text. “It’s my mom—she’s looking for us. We’d better get out of here now!”

  Ruthie had an idea. “If you come back tomorrow with all the objects, we’ll help you put them back—and show you more of the magic.”