Paperquake (13 page)

"No, don't you see?"

Violet peered up at Rose, frowning. Suddenly she did see. "Oh!"

"It'll be a totally perfect diversion," said Jasmine. "And while you're flopping around, people will be looking at you, and one of us can slip the letter back onto the table in the exhibit."

"I'll do it," said Rose. She removed the letter from the envelope. It was funny, thought Violet, watching her sister square her shoulders and prepare herself for action, that at first Rosy had been reluctant to join this adventure at all. And yet here she was now, as usual, taking charge.

"Baby? Are you ready to faint?" Rose glanced over her shoulder.

Violet squared her shoulders, ready for action. "Don't call me Baby or I really will faint." She took a deep breath

Be of strong heart!

Jasmine touched her shoulder lightly. "Okay. Ready, Rosy?"

"Ready." Rose flipped her hair back and looked casually around to the left and right.

"Okay then. Ready..." Jasmine sat down next to Violet on the bench. "Aim..." Violet sagged against her and moaned. Rose darted off across the big room.

"Fire!" whispered Jasmine.

Violet moaned more loudly and slumped forward.

Jasmine jumped to her feet. "Help, somebody! My sister's fainted. What should I do?"

Two elderly men hurried over. "Get a doctor," one called. "A girl here needs some help."

"Lean over, dear, with your head down between your legs, that's the way." A large woman with a bleached crew cut and half a dozen dangling silver earrings placed her hand on Violet's back and forced her to bend over. "There! Get some blood flowing to the old brain."

Violet gasped for breath and moaned.

"Move aside, everyone, please," said a firm voice, and Violet saw a pair of feet in sensible gray pumps pressing through the crowd.

Violet looked up to see a tall, dark, stern-faced woman in a gray suit. The badge of a museum official was clipped to her tailored jacket. She wore large pearl earrings, and her hair in a short Afro style. Her museum badge read:
MS. JAMES.
She reeked of authority, and Violet's heart thrummed with fear.

Had Rosy been caught?

"The girl fainted," one of the onlookers explained, standing to one side so the museum official could have a closer look at Violet.

"Looks like you're coming around now, though," Ms. James said. "Were you with a school group?"

"She's here with me," said Jasmine quickly.

"Is there someone who can drive you home?"

"No..." Jasmine hesitated a moment. "We came on the bus."

Ms. James put her hand on Violet's arm. When Violet dared to meet her eyes, she saw the woman's severe expression soften. "Can you stand up now? Would you like to rest in my office for a few minutes? We can call your parents from there."

"No! I mean, I'll be all right." Violet scanned the room for Rose and located her standing by the earthquake simulator. Rose flicked a surreptitious victory V with her fingers. Violet sighed with relief. They had done it! They were almost safe.
But we can't let Ms. James call Mom and Dad!
She shot an urgent look at Jasmine.

"Our parents are at work," Jasmine said swiftly. "But I'm her sister, and I can get her home, no problem."

"On the bus? During rush-hour traffic? I'm not so sure that's a good idea at all."

"Oh, um, it's not really so far at all. We can walk. The fresh air will be good for her."

Ms. James frowned. "Well, come to my office," she said to Violet. "I want to be sure that you're fully recovered."

The crowd began to move away. Violet and Jasmine had no choice but to let Ms. James lead them across the large room and down the hall to the lobby. Violet darted a look behind them just before they turned into a small office. She saw Rose sauntering along some distance behind them and felt reassured. Rose would rescue them.

The office was filled with plants and cardboard boxes stacked along the walls. "It's a mess in here, I'm afraid, since all these boxes haven't been sorted through. But here"—Ms. James hefted one box off a chair—"have a seat. And some water."

Violet sank down and accepted the paper cup Ms. James brought her from the water cooler. "Thanks a lot. I feel fine now." She sipped the cold water, wondering how she and Jasmine and Rose would ever make it home before dinnertime.

"I'll go look for our other sister," Jasmine said brightly. "Between the two of us, we'll have Vi home in no time."

"Oh, there's another sister? Well, good. Go find her then." Ms. James nodded approvingly, and Violet sighed in relief.

Violet finished her water and tossed the paper cup into the wastebasket. The museum official looked at Violet as if she didn't quite know what to do with her until her sisters returned. She seemed grateful when the phone rang, and she perched on her desk to answer. Violet noticed the nameplate on the desk:
AUDREY JAMES, DIRECTOR OF ARCHIVES.

While Ms. James spoke on the phone, Violet looked at the posters of sharks and starfish mounted on the walls. She wished Rosy and Jazzy would hurry up. What in the world was taking them so long?

She shifted restlessly on her seat. Her gaze fell on the stack of boxes crowding the small room. They were all labeled in scrawled handwriting from a thick black marking pen.
MISC. LETTERS
—1940
S,
one label read. And underneath, another read:
INVERTEBRATES—FIELD REPORTS.

"I see you're interested in our boxes."

Violet looked up, startled. Ms. James was off the phone.

"They're new acquisitions for the museum—donations, really," explained the director. "It's part of my job to sort through and decide which documents we'll keep for our archives, and which have no value to us."

Violet's thoughts were whirling. Had the letter from Hal been a donation? "Who donates old stuff like this? Old letters, I mean."

"Oh, we get all sorts of things when someone dies and the relatives clear out the attic or basement." Ms. James pursed her lips. "Most of it is complete junk, but the families don't want to hear about it. They want to think that Great-uncle Frank has been hoarding treasure up there all these years."

"Treasure!"

"Historical treasure, my dear. Or scientific treasure. To some of us it's finer than gold. We catalog it for our collection. Scholars come to use our archives. And we occasionally use an item in the exhibits."

Violet chose her words carefully. "And—um—what do you do with the junk? I mean, the stuff the museum doesn't want? Do you just throw it out?"

"It depends. Sometimes old letters and photographs are valuable to other institutions, even if we can't use them here at the Academy of Sciences. We send such things on to one of the historical societies. And they're very good about sending us things, as well, when they know we can use them. If the donations have no historical or scientific value, we try to give them back to the people who donated them in the first place—but usually they refuse to take them back!" Ms. James glanced at her watch. "Now, I wonder what is keeping your sisters."

Then, Violet heard Rose's laugh from out in the lobby— or was it Jasmine's?—and knew she had to make a last-ditch effort. "Ms. James, I'm doing a report for school, and I wonder if you have any old—uh—letters or photos or stuff about the 1906 earthquake in your archives? That people donated, I mean."

Ms. James nodded. "There's a lot of public interest, these days—probably due to all the recent quakes. So we're setting up some new exhibits." She walked to her bookshelf and lifted out a box. "This was given to us recently. We found a couple items of interest and have cataloged them for use in our exhibits. The rest is just junk, but you might enjoy looking through it. There's nothing about the earthquake left, but it's fun to see the old newspapers. Take a peek at the prices listed in the ads—those were the days!" Then the phone rang again and Ms. James turned away.

Violet had a shivery feeling along the back of her neck as she reached into the box. She glanced over at Ms. James, but the director had her back turned and was deep in conversation, making notes on a pad of paper.

The first thing Violet lifted from the box was a leaflet about planting window gardens. Then there was a newspaper clipping about the latest spring fashions in ladies' hats and accessories. The page was yellow and brittle, and Violet handled it carefully. There were drawings of elaborate hats, festooned with ribbons, pieces of artificial fruit—and even, in one, a small bird. Violet checked the date at the top of the page. March 16, 1906.

1906 again.

Violet quickly removed the next layer from the box: several old cookbooks. One opened, and she caught sight of an inscription on the inside cover.
Jane Stowe.

Stowe again.

She didn't even feel particularly surprised. The year and the family name were familiar to her now. The sense that something was waiting for her here was very strong.
Getting closer,
she thought.

She leafed through the books, but there was nothing else. Beneath them were loose sheets of newspaper. The dates were all from 1906. Violet scanned them quickly, but they seemed mostly to be advertising pages featuring sketches of ladies wearing large hats. She looked closer and discovered that the ads all mentioned Stowe's Millinery Shop on Chance Street. It was as if clues were just dropping into her lap.

But clues to what?

As she lifted the next layer of papers, Jasmine and Rose peeked through the doorway.

"Twins!" exclaimed Ms. James, hanging up the phone as the girls came into the room. "Identical, I believe? I'm a twin myself."

Ordinarily Violet would have piped up with the information that they were triplets, but now she was busy searching through the box. Cookbooks, leaflets about gardens, ads for hats—clearly all these things had come from someone in the Stowe family. But who had donated the box to the museum?

"I'm sorry we took so long," Jasmine was saying. "But I couldn't find Rosy. She'd gone to get a snack. Anyway, we're ready now."

But Violet wasn't quite ready. She was sorting through the last newspapers from the box, and there at the bottom was a ledger—identical to the ones she had found in the suitcase.
ALBERT STOWE, MILLINER
read the label. She caught her breath and flipped through the pages. Inside were the lists of expenses, each page dated neatly at the top. March 10, 1905. June 4, 1905. Then more pages, all blank. At the very back of the ledger, beyond the clean sheets of paper, more writing—in handwriting familiar to Violet.
Dear Diary,
she read, and the writing was the same as on the other diary entry.

She closed the ledger quickly and a folded sheet of paper sailed out, landing on the floor. She reached down and slipped it into the ledger again, then hugged the book to her chest.

"Your sister is just going through a box of things that came to us," said Ms. James. "I doubt she'll find anything for her school project, but you never know." She smiled at Violet. "Any luck?"

Violet looked up, flushed. "Well, sort of. This old book is, um, interesting."

"Oh?" Ms. James looked amused.

"Yes!" Violet saw the amazed expressions on her sisters' faces. "I mean, well, it seems to have belonged to someone whose house we own now."

"Oh?" inquired Ms. James again, and reached for the book. "A house?" Quickly Violet opened the cover to show her Albert Stowe's label. She didn't want to hand over the ledger, didn't want Ms. James to see the diary entries at the back, or the folded paper tucked loosely inside. She looked at her sisters beseechingly.

Rose frowned, perplexed, but Jasmine gave her a little smile. "Vi means our parents' new place on Chance Street," Jasmine said.

"Right," Violet clarified. "Our parents are opening a florist shop, and the house they bought used to belong to the Stowes. I think this ledger belonged to the same family."

"There could be a lot of families named Stowe," Ms. James pointed out.

"Yes, but the advertisements are for hats—see?" Violet pointed to the newspapers. "And we already know that Albert Stowe was a milliner."

"Well, what a coincidence!" Ms. James smiled. "It doesn't help with your research project, of course, but it's certainly interesting."

"Is there—is there any chance I could, um, maybe buy this book from you? I'm sure my parents would like it," said Violet quickly. "Or if it's a lot of money, well, could I borrow it?"

"I don't mind if you just take it," said Ms. James. "We won't be using it. As I said, anything useful to the Academy has already been removed from the box and cataloged."

"Thanks a lot," Violet said, trying not to sound too excited. Then she took a deep breath, surprised at her own daring. "Um, do you remember what you
did
find that was usefiil?" she asked. "Stuff from the time of the 1906 earthquake, maybe? Any, um, old letters?"

Ms. James glanced at her sharply. "No, there were no letters in that box. But it's funny you should mention letters written at the time of the 1906 quake." She frowned. "Because we did in fact have a wonderful old letter on display recently that was actually written during the quake—you could even see where the ink spilled when the shaking started."

"Oh!" cried Violet, her face flushing. "How amazing!" She felt her sisters' eyes boring into her but didn't dare to look at them.

"That letter was on loan from the historical society," continued Ms. James. "They often send us things people have donated, if they look useful for public viewing. But," she added with a shake of her head, "that letter was stolen from our new exhibit just yesterday—can you believe it?" Ms. James pressed her lips together.

"Stolen—" Jasmine coughed. "That's awful."

"What a shame," murmured Rose, then turned to Violet. "Hey, are you ready to go now?"

Violet stood up. "I'm, um, sorry about the stolen letter," she murmured.

"You never know when just such a theft will happen," Ms. James said. "No doubt the thief hoped the letter was valuable and wanted to try to sell it to an antiques dealer."