Little Lion Read Free

this.
    â€œThink,” Maisie ordered. “What are we doing wrong?”
    â€œReally,” Felix said, trying not to sound too eager, “I think we should just go back to the apartment and forget all about it.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you wanted to go back to New York,” she said.
    â€œTo
our
New York. Not New York in 1920 when there wasn’t even the Holland Tunnel yet.”
    Maisie still held the blueprints tightly in both hands. She glanced down at them before she said, “The Holland Tunnel is on Canal Street, right? If we got back, we’d be what? Twelve blocks from home?”
    â€œBut the timing is off!” Felix said, frustrated. Then a thought occurred to him. “The timing is way off!” he said. “That letter for Clara was dated almost thirty years after we saw her, remember? So if we went back and met Clifford Holland, it could be way before 1920. Maybe even before 1900.”
    â€œI didn’t think of that,” Maisie said, furrowing her brow in concentration. “The rules of this are so complicated. If we could just figure them out, we could control where we went and when. I’m sure of it.”
    Felix shook his head. “I think it was a fluke,” he said. “That weird storm that blew in during the tour of the mansion. Remember how freaked out the docent got? The vase fixing itself somehow. All of it.”
    In the middle of their VIP tour, the wind broke a fancy Ming vase into a million pieces. Then, magically, the vase got put back together. Almost. Maisie had managed to keep a shard of it for herself. And mysteriously one other shard remained missing.
    Now, Felix started to walk out of The Treasure Chest, and to his surprise, his sister followed him, placing the blueprints back on the desk as she passed it.
    â€œI’m not giving up, you know,” Maisie said as she closed the wall back up.
    â€œI know,” Felix said.
    They began down the Grand Staircase in silence. But at the landing, Maisie paused and looked right in the eyes of young Great-Aunt Maisie’s picture.
    â€œWhat do you know about all this?” Maisie said to the photograph.
    As soon as she said it, her face brightened.
    â€œWhat does Great-Aunt Maisie know?” she said, excited.
    Before Felix could answer, Maisie grabbed his arm. “She knows something. If we ask her why it didn’t work this time, maybe she can help us.”
    Uh-oh
, Felix thought as Maisie pulled him down the stairs with her. He knew she was right. Great-Aunt Maisie could tell them exactly what to do, and once she did, there would be no stopping his sister.
    $  $  $  $  $
    â€œWhy didn’t we think about this in the first place?” Maisie said, pleased with herself.
    She and Felix stood at a bus stop on Bellevue Avenue, waiting for a bus that would take them to Great-Aunt Maisie’s assisted living facility.
    â€œAt home, we took the subway by ourselves all the time,” she added. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about taking a bus wherever we want to go.”
    Across the street stood the Tennis Hall of Fame, and Maisie watched as men in dark red pants and polo shirts went in and out. Normally the way people dressed here bugged her. Grown women wore belts with little whales and ladybugs on them and men wore boat shoes and pants like these guys, which were practically pink. But today, at this minute, instead of bugging her, Maisie was delighted by all of it. Today she felt in charge of her life. She would get on a bus and go to Great-Aunt Maisie and find out . . . well, something. Wasn’t that what Clara Barton had suggested? Hadn’t Clara herself said that their aunt might have a lot of things to teach them and that they should listen to her?
    A bus came down Bellevue Avenue, slowing at the stop. Maisie and Felix climbed on, shoving coins into the turnstile. Even that simple act felt