Stealing Magic (10 page)

Back out on the sidewalk, Ruthie decided to refocus his attention by telling him about Mrs. McVittie’s clothing collection. “So we could both have the right clothes to wear when we go back to find Louisa,” she finished after telling him about the two perfect period outfits.

“When do you want to go?” he asked, almost completely over his angry storm. “I don’t think my mom will let me go tomorrow. Better try Tuesday.”

“Yeah, that’ll be good for me. I wish we could go right now to warn her. I’m so worried that we’re not going to be able to find her.”

They had reached Jack’s building. He was resisting going inside again, so they sat on the front steps for a few minutes. “You know this means we have to put her on the list,” Jack said.

“What do you mean?”

“We know Dora has access to the rooms.”

“Yeah, but—”

Jack interrupted her. “I’ve been thinking. Now that
Mrs. McVittie and Dora know, maybe you’re right about talking to Dr. Bell.”

Ruthie was glad he had been the one to bring this up. “I think it’s a good idea. I got the feeling when we met her at the opening that she wants to know more,” she said. “We can see if she’ll meet with us before we go to the museum on Tuesday.”

Jack looked up at the blue sky. “I don’t want to go back inside. It’s so nice out. I guess it’s not that bad not going on some swanky island vacation for spring break. At least we get to go to Paris!”

“And do something important, like save someone’s life,” Ruthie added with a big grin.

“
D
R. CAROLINE BELL, MD,” JACK
read on the office door. “This is the place.”

The receptionist ushered them into an office filled with medical books, Dr. Bell’s diplomas and some photos of her with her father. Ruthie also noticed a beautiful one of Dr. Bell as a baby in her mother’s arms. She recognized it as one of the photos they had rediscovered.

“Hello, Ruthie. Hello, Jack,” Dr. Bell said, entering the office and shaking hands. She sat down at her desk. “It’s so nice to see you both again. Please have a seat.” Ruthie felt the warmth from her smile. “So what did you want to see me about?”

Ruthie began, “At the opening of your dad’s exhibition you said you thought we had more to talk about.”

“What do you think?” Dr. Bell asked.

“I think you want to know more about how we found
your backpack,” Ruthie suggested, hoping Dr. Bell would get the hint. She must have memories, Ruthie thought, just like Mrs. McVittie’s, about going into the rooms as a child, memories that she had a hard time believing. Finding Dr. Bell’s belongings—the backpack filled with her schoolbooks and her father’s photo album—hidden all those years in the tiny cabinet of room E17 had given Ruthie and Jack the proof that she had experienced the magic.

Dr. Bell studied their faces for a moment. “Let me show you something,” she said. She swiveled her desk chair and took something from the bookshelves behind her. It was a small silver box, about three inches square, with intricate decorations carved into the lid. She handed it to Ruthie, who turned it over in her hand like an antiques expert. Looking at the markings on the bottom, she saw some letters and a lion.

“It’s from England,” Ruthie said confidently. When Dr. Bell looked surprised, Ruthie added, “Mrs. McVittie taught me how to read the markings. Where did you get it?”

“I’m not sure; I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, though.” She looked at it thoughtfully. “I once had a dream about it being from a dollhouse and growing in the palm of my hand.”

“That was no dream, Dr. Bell,” Jack put in.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it probably did grow in your hand. And that the stories you told your dad when you were a little
girl—about shrinking and going into the Thorne Rooms—all that really happened.”

“This little box is probably from one of the rooms,” Ruthie concluded.

Again the room was quiet. Dr. Bell’s gaze was directed at the box in her hand, although her focus was far away.

“I was just a little girl with an active imagination.” After a few moments she looked at them, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m a doctor—a scientist. I shouldn’t believe this.”

“We couldn’t believe it either,” Ruthie said gently, “but it happened to us. We shrank and went into the rooms.”

“That’s where we—Ruthie, actually—found your backpack,” Jack said.

“In a cabinet in one of the bedrooms with a canopy bed,” Ruthie added.

Dr. Bell gave a small chuckle. “I was obsessed with that bed.” She thought some more. “But I still can’t believe all this is true. How can it be?”

“There was a magic key that a duchess named Christina of Milan had made centuries ago,” Jack explained.

Dr. Bell’s expression registered a memory. “Yes! I remember a beautiful shining key!”

“Christina had the key created so she could make herself almost invisible. We read about it in a book she wrote that’s in one of the rooms,” Jack continued.

“But it’s all so impossible!”

“Why do you think you kept this little box all these
years? Deep down you must have known your memories were real,” Ruthie said.

Dr. Bell smiled. “You’re very insightful, aren’t you?”

Ruthie shrugged. “It happened to our friend Mrs. McVittie too, a long time ago.”

“The rooms—and, I suppose, the magic—helped me get through those difficult times when my mother died.” Dr. Bell sighed heavily. “Now I’ve got to pull myself together and get back to work. I wish I had more time to talk. I have a lot to think about.” She stood up and walked around to the door. “I want to thank you both so much for everything you’ve done, for me and my father. He’s never been happier since he’s gotten back to his photography.”

“We were just lucky,” Ruthie said.

“Before you go …” Dr. Bell went back to her desk and picked up the beautiful box, cradling it in her hand for a moment. “I think I remember which room this came from now. It was a grand dining room. I think the walls were pale green, with lots of white decorations.” She paused, her memories seeming to become clearer. “And I remember a funny white statue of a lady with a bow and arrow.”

“I know which room that is,” Ruthie said.

“Perhaps you’ll do me the favor of returning it? To put it back where it belongs?”

“No problem,” Jack answered.

Ruthie and Jack left her office. Out in the hallway Jack
said, “We can rule her out. She didn’t write the note, for sure.”

“And I don’t think she can help us figure out who did,” Ruthie replied.

“I can’t believe I forgot the key!” Jack griped as they were getting off the bus near his building.

“We had to come back this way anyway,” Ruthie said. One block later they were at his door. “I’m glad we talked to her.”

“Yeah. She seemed relieved to know what really happened to her when she was a kid. Just like Mrs. McVittie.”

The elevator brought them up to Jack’s floor. Lydia had left a note for Jack on the kitchen table, saying she had an appointment and would be back by dinner. “I’ll just get the key and then we can go to the museum,” he said.

Ruthie had the clothes they were going to change into stuffed into her canvas bag, along with the climbing ladder. She double-checked to make sure she had everything while she waited for Jack, who seemed to be taking an extra couple of minutes to retrieve the key. He appeared from his room, his face ashen.

“What’s wrong?” Ruthie asked.

“I can’t find it! It’s not where I put it!”

“What do you mean?” She charged into his room. “Let me look.”

They went through the shoe box again, pulling every
item out; it wasn’t there. They looked through every drawer, under his bed, even in it. The key was nowhere!

“Think—when did you last see it?”

“When we used it last Tuesday. I put it back; I’m sure I did!”

“Does your mom have a new cleaning person or anything like that?”

“No,” Jack answered, thoroughly perplexed. They were quiet for a long moment, minds racing. “There’s one other possibility. My mom took some stuff to the dry cleaner the other day, including the jacket I was wearing on Tuesday. I’m sure I put the key in the box, but maybe … maybe I didn’t.”

“Which dry cleaner?”

“She always uses the one around the corner.”

“Let’s go!” Ruthie sprinted for the elevator, and Jack was right behind her. They sped out to the street and around the block, swinging open the door of the cleaner’s. Jack rang the service bell on the counter several times. While they waited, Ruthie noticed a sign next to the cash register. In red lettering it stated, Not Responsible for Valuables Left in Pockets.

“Coming, coming!” A man’s voice sounded from behind the curtain of plastic garment bags hanging on the conveyor.

Jack called out, “My mom brought some clothes here the other day. I think I might have left something in the pocket.”

Finally the clothing parted and the man appeared. He had a large wrench in his hand and didn’t look too happy. “Darn thing broke down again!”

“Please,” Jack began. “I need to look in the pocket of my jacket.”

“You got your ticket?”

“No. But this is an emergency.”

“He lost something important,” Ruthie chimed in.

“I can’t help you without the ticket.”

“Please!” they said simultaneously.

The man sighed. “What’d ya lose?”

“A key,” Jack said.

“House? Car?” the man asked.

“Uh, neither. It’s an antique key.”

The man didn’t respond but disappeared into the back. He returned carrying a box, about triple the size of a shoe box. He set it heavily on the counter.

“We got keys. You’re welcome to look through them. We always check pockets. Keys go in this box. I can’t promise it’s in there.” He disappeared again through the plastic-covered clothes. They heard the clanking of metal.

“There are hundreds in here!” Ruthie felt discouraged.

“Start digging. If our key is in here, it will stand out.” Jack plunged his hand into the pile.

Ruthie had never known there were so many different sizes and shapes of keys. They all blurred together after a while. Soon it became evident to both of them that their key was not in this box.

“Sir,” Jack called, “could I please take a look at my jacket pocket? The key isn’t here.”

The man came back to the counter and leaned forward. “I got big problems today. If you think I can find your jacket without your ticket, I got news for you. We got hundreds of items here.”

“Could we look?” Ruthie asked.

“No clients behind the counter.” He softened somewhat when he saw the look of desperation on Ruthie’s face. “Look, I’m sorry. We got strict rules. My workers always check pockets. Though I hate to say it, sometimes valuables don’t end up in the box. Some people don’t respect personal property as much as they should.”

“Finders keepers,” Jack sighed.

“That’s what the sign’s for.” He gestured with the wrench to the red-lettered sign. “Now I gotta get this thing fixed.” He left for good this time.

“This is horrible!” Ruthie choked back the lump forming in her throat.

“Really, I’m pretty sure I didn’t leave it in the pocket.” Jack sounded like he was trying to convince both Ruthie and himself. They returned to the sidewalk and trudged back to the loft.

In the elevator Ruthie said, “I could get used to never being able to shrink again, I guess. But I can’t stand the idea of not warning Louisa to get out of Paris. Her life is at stake!”

“I know, I know! Let’s keep looking.”

“You don’t think there was something about the magic itself that made it disappear?” Ruthie pondered aloud as they looked everywhere in the loft for the third time. “Like maybe we kept it too long or something.” Ruthie had secretly worried about this. After all, the key didn’t belong to them.

“I guess it’s possible. I mean, who ever thought any of this could happen in the first place?” Jack continued looking in his mother’s studio while Ruthie combed through trash cans and kitchen cabinets. They spent the next two hours searching everywhere, but it appeared the key had truly vanished.

Ruthie had pains in her side as she and Jack stood at the door to Mrs. McVittie’s apartment, panting. They hadn’t waited for the bus. Instead, they’d run along the sidewalks, turning the usual twenty-minute walk into a ten-minute sprint. Now she pushed the buzzer several times. Mrs. McVittie opened the door and stared at them, startled.