Stealing Magic Read Free

her mom came into the kitchen at that moment.
    “Good morning, Gabe,” she said.
    “Hi, Mrs. Stewart,” he answered.
    “Good job, Ruthie! Looks like I can retire as head crepe maker around here,” she said, admiring the full stack of fresh crepes on the table, not noticing the one going into the garbage disposal at that very moment.
    Finally the door buzzer sounded again, and Ruthie bounded for it. She slammed the intercom button.
    “Hey, it’s me.” Jack’s voice came through the speaker.Ruthie buzzed him in before he finished the short sentence.
    “What took you so long?” Ruthie demanded when he appeared in the doorway.
    “I just got up, remember?” Jack looked at her as though she were slightly crazed and then noticed the telltale smell of fresh crepes. He walked right into the kitchen smiling at everyone.
    “Good morning, Jack,” Ruthie’s mom said. “Pull up a chair.”
    “Wait. First come see what Mrs. McVittie gave me last night.” Ruthie yanked him out of the kitchen and into her room. She closed the door.
    “I’m really freaked out,” Ruthie began. “It’s like my dream was some kind of premonition. I feel like it was telling me to do something important, but I don’t know what!”
    Jack remained calm, as usual. “What did you want to show me?”
    “Oh, right.” She turned to her bureau and opened the top drawer. There among the socks lay the beaded handbag, gleaming brightly in contrast with the mostly dull socks.
    “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    Jack was underwhelmed. “It’s a purse,” he said flatly.
    “It’s an antique. Mrs. McVittie said it belonged to her sister. Last night when we were walking home, I thought I felt it warming up in my hand.”
    Jack took the small bag in his own hands for a closer inspection. “Did it only happen once?” He handed it back to her. “What about now? Do you feel anything?”
    She held it carefully and tried to sense the temperature. Was it warming in her hand? Was it glowing too brightly in the indoor lighting of her bedroom? She shook her head. “No, nothing. I probably imagined it.”
    From out in the apartment the two of them heard everyone welcoming Mrs. McVittie.
    “Let’s go to the museum today,” Jack suggested. “At least to take a look at the Japanese room and my bento box.”
    “Okay,” Ruthie agreed. “But we’d better go out and say hello.”
    Ruthie gave Mrs. McVittie a hug as soon as she saw her. The kitchen was too small for all the people who squeezed around the table. Ordinarily Ruthie would have enjoyed a Sunday morning like this, but now she just wanted to rush to the museum and check on the bento box!
    The crepes had been devoured and the newspaper had been passed around the table several times before Jack saw the article about the art thief. “Mrs. McVittie, have you read this?” he asked. “It says some pretty important art collections have been hit.”
    “Yes, I’ve read the reports. Fascinating.”
    “Why fascinating?” Ruthie asked.
    “Because art thieves are not your run-of-the-mill burglars,” she answered.
    “What do you mean?” Ruthie asked.
    “They’re very particular about what they steal. Everyone knows what a television costs, but how about a Ming Dynasty vase? And not everyone knows how to distinguish a real one from a fake. Art thieves either have expertise or are working for someone who does.”
    “Are you worried?” Jack inquired.
    “No. It’s only the high-profile collectors who’ve been burgled. People know me as a book dealer, and my shop has a security system. Don’t worry about me!”
    As brunch came to an end, Ruthie popped up out of her chair. “Jack and I are going to the Art Institute and then to his house.”
    “You know, I still haven’t seen the Thorne Rooms,” Ruthie’s mom said. “Remember, Ruthie, you promised to go through them with me one day. How about today?”
    Ruthie, horrified by the idea, tried to keep a poker face. She was casting about for some