“But the museum will be open,” Dora said.
“No problem,” Ruthie insisted. “We’ll show you everything.”
“What do you mean, everything?” Dora asked.
“There are a lot more secrets to the magic,” Jack continued.
“I’m not sure I can bring everything back tomorrow …” Dora was stalling, but Ruthie could tell she was intrigued.
“Some of the painted dioramas are alive,” Ruthie added to sweeten the enticement.
“Alive?” Dora asked.
“Yes. Like time portals,” Ruthie explained. “We’ve gone back to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. We’ve met people from then.”
“Have you ever … brought anything back from the past?”
They had no intention of telling her that was impossible, that things from the past disappear when they end up in the rooms. “We never thought of that,” Ruthie replied.
“But you mean, I—you—could meet Rembrandt? Or Picasso before he was famous?” She wasn’t really speaking to them when she said this. It was more like she was thinking aloud. “You could buy a painting for almost nothing!”
Ruthie observed a steely flicker of greed in Dora’s eyes, and at that moment she no longer looked beautiful to her.
“We’ll even show you the curse,” Jack put in, pitching a new twist.
“Curse?” Dora looked at Jack like he’d just interrupted the most delicious thought she’d ever had. “What curse?”
“Duchess Christina’s curse, placed on people who disrespect the magic,” he improvised. “We don’t know if it’s true.”
“But we didn’t think anything like this was possible before we experienced it—so the curse could be true,” Ruthie tossed in as embellishment.
“C’mon.” Jack hurried them along. “We have to go.”
They left the room, making sure they were behind Dora so she couldn’t steal anything on her way out. While Dora was turning toward the stepladder, Ruthie grabbed Jack’s hand, tossed the metal square over the ledge and jumped.
Dora turned just in time to see them growing in midair. The whole thing happened so swiftly—including Jack picking up the square and putting it in his pocket—that she didn’t get even a glimpse of it.
“How did you do that?” she exclaimed, her mouth agape.
“Nothing to it,” the full-sized Jack said to the tiny woman on the ledge. “You just toss the key to the floor. Try it.”
“I don’t know …,” she began.
“Really, Dora, don’t be afraid,” Ruthie coaxed. Being so large in comparison made Ruthie feel very powerful.
“All right. Here goes.” She threw the key to the floor and took a timid step forward, growing in midair.
Jack scooped up the key before its odd tinkling had even stopped and put it in his other pocket. It couldn’t have been easier.
Dora landed awkwardly in her high heels. “Whew. I don’t know if I like that!”
“It gets easier,” Ruthie assured her.
Dora looked on the floor around her. “Where’s the key?”
Jack, who had already started down the corridor, turned and flashed a smile at her. “You’d just shrink again if you pick it up in here. The magic doesn’t work on guys.”
Dora looked as if she suspected she’d been outfoxed, but there was nothing she could do about it without admitting her real motives. She squared her shoulders and followed.
When they arrived at the exit, Jack asked, “You have a key to the door, right, Dora?” Ruthie knew he had no intention of taking either Duchess Christina’s key or the square out of his pocket.
“Yes, but how did you get in?” she asked.
“We’ll explain it all tomorrow morning. Meet us here at eleven,” Ruthie instructed.
“Yes. I’ll be here.”
“Don’t forget,” Ruthie reminded her, “bring all the objects you need to put back. We’ll help you!”
Dora smiled less easily than usual at Ruthie, smoothed her hair one more time, and turned the key in the lock. The three of them walked into the empty Gallery 11, the door locking behind them.
Ruthie spent the night at Jack’s. She made a quick call to Mrs. McVittie and had her nightly check-in with her parents before putting on her pajamas. Jack lay in his bed up in his sleeping loft while Ruthie bunked on the couch in his living room.
“Can you believe it?” Jack said from above. “It was so easy.”
“I know. But you know what I can’t believe?”
“What?”
“I can’t believe she stole the Mayflower. Of all the stuff she could’ve taken. Somebody’s bound to notice soon, besides us.”
“Yeah. Incredible,” Jack responded through a yawn.
“Do you think we really saved Louisa and her family?”
“Her dad seemed like a smart guy. Don’t forget, they’d already figured out that they should leave Germany. He said they would go to New York,” Jack answered.
Ruthie yawned. “I hope Dora shows up tomorrow.”
“You saw how interested she was in getting her hands on old art. She’ll be there.”
“I hope—” Ruthie started to speak, but was interrupted by another yawn. “I hope she brings everything.”
The last thing Ruthie heard was Jack saying, “We’ll find out tomorrow,” and then she was asleep.
In Ruthie’s dream she was back in her own bed, with Claire snoring softly on the other side of the room, as usual. For some reason, Ruthie got up and walked into the hall past the bathroom and her parents’ room until she stood in front of another room, one that she had never seen in their apartment before. That’s funny, I’ve lived here all my life; how come I never knew we had this room? She took a step to enter it, but hit a hard surface—the wall. Then she realized that the room was really a trompe l’oeil painting. As she stood marveling at how convincing it was, someone appeared in it. A tall woman with ghostly white hair walked around looking for something. “Dora?” Ruthie called out, but the woman’s face was in shadow and she couldn’t be certain it was her. Then Ruthie noticed that the room was filled with boxes of all sorts, many just like some in the Thorne Rooms. There was the silver box that Caroline Bell had taken, and one that Ruthie recognized from Sophie’s room. And there was Jack’s bento box. The woman examined the boxes, opening all of them and putting something in. “Dora, is that you?” Ruthie called to her again, but the woman didn’t respond. Ruthie watched her looking in each box and then could see that the woman was actually placing apples in them. “Dora!” Ruthie nearly shouted. But the painting began to fade slowly, and Ruthie found herself staring at a plain white wall. She walked back to her bedroom, climbed into her bed and closed her eyes, listening to her sister’s steady purr.
IN THE MORNING RUTHIE AND Jack stopped at Mrs. McVittie’s before their eleven o’clock meeting with Dora. She fed them breakfast while they told her everything. Then Jack called Caroline Bell to finalize the last steps in the plan.
“All set,” he said, closing his cell phone. “She’s ready.”
“With all this excitement I almost forgot to show you this,” Mrs. McVittie announced, getting up from the table and going into the dining room. She retrieved a leather-bound scrapbook and magnifying glass from her book-covered table. She set them down in the kitchen and opened the book to the most recent entries, the clippings from last weekend’s newspaper. They saw the photo of Ruthie and Jack standing with Mr. Bell, a large crowd behind them.
“I was putting these in my album last night and something caught my eye.” She handed them her magnifying glass.
They looked through the glass and cried out at the same time: “Dora!”
“That’s right! She was there. I knew when I met her in the museum the next morning that I’d seen her somewhere before.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell us she’d been there?” Ruthie asked.
“She never actually denied it, did she?” Mrs. McVittie pointed out.
“But she act
ed like she had no idea who we were, when really she did,” Ruthie said.
“Do you think she planned on meeting us?” Jack wondered.
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Mrs. McVittie answered. “Dora Pommeroy doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who lets anything happen by chance.”
As Mrs. McVittie spoke, Ruthie had that funny sensation that comes when a dream you’ve had is trying to wriggle back into your consciousness. First she remembered the hallway in her apartment and the trompe l’oeil room appearing, and then the whole dream flooded back. “Jack—we still haven’t found out who wrote on the note in your bento box,” Ruthie said.
“Wow—I sort of forgot about it with everything else happening,” Jack said.
“I had a dream last night that made me think it was Dora,” Ruthie said, remembering the shadowy figure slipping apples into boxes.
Mrs. McVittie spoke up. “If she is the author, it would explain why she went to Edmund Bell’s opening; she had already found the note in the bento box, and then when she heard your names associated with Edmund, she wanted to see you.”
“She must’ve been the one who wrote on the note,” Jack said.
“Let’s try to ask her today,” Ruthie suggested. “She trusts us, I think.”
“Look at the time, you two. You don’t want to be late.” Mrs. McVittie started to clear the breakfast dishes. “And don’t forget, Ruthie, your parents will be back by suppertime.”
Her parents! Ruthie had almost forgotten they were coming home today. She was looking forward to seeing them, but there was a lot to get done in a little time!
Jack and Ruthie rushed out into the beautiful Chicago Sunday, the kind of day they ordinarily would have spent outside. Sunlight reflected in the windows of the skyscrapers, and the city sparkled. They ran nearly all the way from Mrs. McVittie’s apartment, arriving at the museum ten minutes before eleven. The two of them sat on the steps by one of the bronze lions to wait for Dora.
After a bit Ruthie checked her watch: 11:01. “What time does your watch say?” she asked Jack.
“A minute after eleven,” he answered.
“She’s never late. Something’s wrong,” Ruthie said.
“Could be our watches are a little fast.”
“True,” Ruthie admitted, although she could feel the hollow of her stomach deepening.
People walked by in a steady stream. No Dora.
At seven minutes past eleven Ruthie worried aloud, “You know, Jack, she doesn’t have to show up or bring back any of the objects. They’re really valuable antiques that she could sell for a lot of money. And she knows we’re not going to tell anyone about the shrinking and the magic.”
“That’s possible,” Jack conceded. “But I still think her curiosity will make her show up.”
“I hope you’re right.” Just then Ruthie felt a hand on her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Ruthie, Jack,” the cool voice said from behind. “Here you are; I’ve been waiting inside for you.”
Calming herself, and hoping Dora hadn’t overheard them, Ruthie responded, “Hi, Dora.”
Jack stood up too. “I guess we never told you where to meet us. Did you bring everything?” Jack glanced at the large leather tote bag that she always carried. It looked pretty full. She also held a shopping bag from which he could see the tip of a ship’s mast poking out from some bubble wrap. “That’s the Mayflower model from A1, isn’t it?”
“Very good, Jack. You do know the rooms well, don’t you?”
“Not really, not like Ruthie. It’s just that the model is one of my favorite things.”
“It is a really special piece. It has a name written on the bottom,” Dora said.
“We know: Thomas Wilcox. We met him,” Jack said.
“You met him?” Dora was astounded. “Was he in the room?”
“No. We went out into his time, into the seventeenth century,” Jack explained casually.
“That’s amazing!” Her eyes narrowed a bit.
Ruthie was certain that Dora was thinking about all the treasures she was hoping to lay claim to from beyond the rooms. “C’mon, let’s go.” Ruthie led them up the steps.
With Dora’s museum ID tag around her neck, they had no problem bringing the shopping bag into the museum, and the three of them made a beeline for the stairs. Since it was such a nice day outside, Gallery 11 was relatively empty. Dora smiled brightly at the guard on duty. “Hello, Louis. I’ve got some work to do in the corridor, and these are my interns.” She spoke with complete confidence.
“Aren’t you the two who found Edmund Bell’s photographs?”
“Yep, that’s us,” Jack answered.
“I thought I’d been seeing you around here lately,” the guard commented. “Any friend of Edmund’s is a friend of mine. You three go right ahead. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Dora said. She led the way past the information booth to the American rooms’ access door, the one Ruthie and Jack had not been able to squeeze under. Dora used her key to let them in. It was all so easy.
“So how do we do this?” Dora asked.
“First,” Ruthie said, “why don’t you show us all the objects that we need to put back?”
“Right,” Jack agreed. “Let’s get that done, and then we can show you how the magic gets you into the past worlds.”
“And the curse? I’m very interested in learning more about that,” Dora asked.
“For sure. We’ll tell you all about that!” Ruthie enthused. “How many American pieces do you have?”
“Let’s see.” She hesitated. “There’s the Mayflower in here.” Dora raised the shopping bag. Then she reached into her big leather bag, pulling out an unusual-looking object. “This is from one of the rooms from the South.”
“Is that one of the picture-viewing things—a stereopti-something?” Jack asked, intrigued by the wood and metal instrument.
“A stereopticon,” Dora answered. “Good antiques like this are hard to find.”
“I know where that belongs,” Ruthie said. “In the Georgia room, right next to the Charleston room.”
“What else?” Jack continued.
“Just this.” Dora pulled a small silver goblet from her big bag.
“Hmmm.” Ruthie tilted her head. “What room is that from?”
“It came from a Maryland dining room.” Dora’s eyes caught a glint from the shiny sterling piece as she held it close to her face. “It’s exquisite.”
“Is that everything?” Ruthie prodded.
“Of course,” Dora responded. Ruthie wasn’t sure if she believed her—why should she? Ruthie thought it very likely that Dora was scheming to put everything back now and steal it again later. But Dora did seem motivated to follow their directions—for the moment, at least—so they would reward her with information.
“Let’s have the Mayflower. That should go back first.” Jack reached for the shopping bag.
Dora nervously clutched it. “Are you sure? Couldn’t we do some exploring first?”
“I think it would be smart to get everything put away before we do that. What if someone comes back here for some reason and starts asking questions? You could get in big trouble, Dora,” Ruthie replied.
“Oh—oh, I see. Yes, of course.” She grudgingly surrendered the bag.
“Let’s have the goblet and the stereopticon too.” Ruthie put her hand out for them.
“But I would love to put something back myself,” Dora complained.
“First things first.” Jack sounded terribly bossy. Dora obeyed and handed over the two antiques. They put everything in the shopping bag for the shrinking process, being especially careful with Thomas’ ship. “Ready?” Jack asked.
“Yep,” Ruthie answered.
Jack reached into a pocket for the key and dropped it into her open palm. Ruthie had gotten used to the magic of the metal square and noticed the difference right away, as if the key’s magic was more powerful, the pr
ocess smoother and faster. Like the difference between riding in a really new car and an old one. In an instant, Ruthie and the three objects were mouse-sized.
For a horrible moment, Ruthie recognized the disadvantage she was at—Dora was now an evil giant before her. She was glad Jack remained big.
Jack gently picked up tiny Ruthie and the shopping bag, setting them down gingerly on the ledge near A1, the room from the time of the Salem witch trials—Thomas’ room. “Don’t forget to look before you go in.”
Ruthie took the Mayflower and stepped through the framework and into the small room that led to the main one. She tiptoed to the doorway and peeked in. The beautiful wooden surfaces glowed and the huge fireplace felt so inviting. The mug in which she had found Caroline Bell’s pink barrette hung on the hook right where Ruthie had put it. The lack of museum visitors made it easy—she could go right in.
Everything was unchanged since their last visit, except it was too quiet—it was as if the sound had been turned off on a TV and there was just the picture. But something happened as she walked across the wide wood floorboards and lifted the Mayflower to its home on the mantel. First she heard the tinkling, bell-like sound that she’d heard when she touched Christina’s book. It was both everywhere and far away and lasted only a few seconds before subsiding. Then she heard life—not sounds from the museum, but the normal sounds of outdoors that one notices only if they aren’t there. She heard the wind in the trees, birds singing, children playing. She hurried behind the tall bench and through the door to the room’s entryway and looked outside—yes, it was alive, all right! She was tempted to rush out and find Thomas again, but she knew Jack would need her in the corridor.
“Mission number one accomplished!” Ruthie said as she arrived back out at the ledge. “What’s next?”
“The Maryland dining room,” Jack replied.
It didn’t take Ruthie too long to scramble along the narrow walkway. Jack and Dora followed.
“Dora, do you remember where the goblet goes?” Ruthie asked.
“Yes; put it on the small side table, the one with the mirror over it.” Dora looked pained.
Stealing Magic Page 14
