The home of George Washington’s chair.
Theo, Jaime, Tess, and Nine decided to forgo the Underway and walk. Though it was still midmorning, the pretzel and hot dog vendors were out in force, the steam from their carts salting the air. When they arrived at the museum, they stopped to let Jaime sketch the life-size bronze statues of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln at the entrance. Inside, a poster declared the museum’s special exhibits: The Games We Played: American Board and Table Games Beauty’s Legacy: Gilded-Age Portraits in America Keith Haring All Over
Lion-Heart: Old New York and the Electrocell Revolution Ciphers and Secret Societies: The Puzzling Case of the Underway Guildmen New York City Pizza: A History
They declined the map offered at the ticket window, marched past the permanent Morningstarr exhibit—complete with a household version of the Roller, about the size of a cat; an early model of the Morningstarr Analytical Engine, based on the work of Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace, and the giant portrait of the twins themselves, all white hair and deep frowns and road-map skin—and went right for the chair, passing furniture, paintings, and other exhibits, including this sign on an otherwise empty pedestal: THIS OBJECT HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY REMOVED AS WE REVISE ITS FACIAL EXPRESSION, WHICH WAS DEEMED ZOOLOGICALLY IMPROBABLE AND/OR TERRIFYING TO SMALL CHILDREN.
They finally found what they’d come for: a plain mahogany chair with a simple design on the back. The plaque next to the chair said that on April 30th, 1789, at Federal Hall in downtown New York City, George Washington sat in this chair on the day of his inauguration.
Jaime pulled his sketchbook from his back pocket and made a quick drawing of the chair, front, back. Surreptitiously, he tested the back and legs to see if it came apart somehow. He even got on the floor and drew the underside of the chair, which got him in trouble with one of the wandering guards, who told him to get up and stop crawling around the floor like some sort of cuckoo bird.
Tess said, “I thought cuckoo birds flew.”
The guard said, “Don’t get smart.”
Theo said, “She won’t.”
Jaime peered at the chair and back at his drawing. “I’m not seeing anything interesting about this chair.”
“Well, the chair was lost,” Tess said. She pointed at the plaque marking the exhibit. “Nobody even bothered to store or preserve it until this guy named William Waddell recognized it in 1831 and decided to take it home. His family held on to the chair for fifty years and even let some other presidents borrow it.”
“Okay, so are we supposed to look into the other presidents who might have sat in the chair?” Jaime asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Tess. “I wonder if the clues are about things or even people that have been lost or overlooked.”
“Maybe we should look into this William Waddell dude,” said Jaime. “I’ve never heard of him before. Seems he’s been forgotten, too.”
Tess peered at the plaque again. “It says here that there’s a painting of one William Waddell in this museum.”
“There is?” said Theo. “Huh.”
“Let’s try that painting next,” said Jaime.
When the guard turned to berate an old lady for getting too close to a silver bowl, Tess flapped behind him like a cuckoo bird, which was a little bit like watching a gibbon attempt to fly. Jaime started doing it, too, and dropped his sketchbook in the process. Theo picked it up, flipped through the pages. Jaime had drawn the Liberty Statue, the stove in the servants’ quarters of the Tredwell House, the archives from above, bony Delancey DeBrule sputtering, Auguste Dupin peering around her shoulder.
“When did you do these?” said Theo.
Jaime stopped flapping. “Last night, after we got home.”
“From memory?”
“How else?”
“Huh,” said Theo, handing the book back to Jaime.
Jaime said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It’s the best you’re going to get from him,” said Tess, who was already jogging to the next exhibit hall, Nine loping alongside her. Another guard told her to quit flying around like a dodo bird—which didn’t make sense, as dodo birds were a) flightless and b) extinct—and made Theo think that perhaps the guards needed some lessons in ornithology. (Odd considering that most of the second floor of the museum was taken up by an exhibit called the Complete Flock of Audubon’s Aviary.) But Tess had already reached the painting. Or where the painting should have been. On the wall was a blank space with a small card: THIS EXHIBIT IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.
—THE RESTORATION DEPARTMENT
“Great,” Theo said. “Dead end.”
Tess said, “No, it isn’t. We just need to get into the restoration department.”
Jaime said, “Without breaking the law. My grandmother will lose it if I break the law.”
“No one’s breaking any laws,” said Theo, who had no idea if breaking laws would be required, though he hoped not. “My mom would not approve.”
“We can’t get in trouble, either, though,” said Jaime. “My grandmother will kill me if we get in trouble.”
“Nobody’s getting in trouble,” said Tess.
“Hmmm. You guys probably won’t,” Jaime said, but he followed them from the exhibit area. They went back to the ticket booth to consult a map, but the map didn’t have any particular area marked “Restoration.”
“Not helpful,” said Theo. His skin was starting to itch. When he got annoyed, he got itchy.
“Stop scratching,” said Tess. She shoved the map at him and walked up to the nearest ticket clerk, who was chatting on her phone.
“I don’t know when she’s supposed to do it,” the clerk said. “I just heard that she is going to do it today. I know! That’s her goal. The press, the police, whatever. She just wants attention.”
Tess tapped her fingers on the counter until the clerk put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Can I help you?”
“Hi there! My aunt Jane works in the restoration department up on the third floor and I was supposed to meet her for lunch?”
The clerk said, “You mean the lower floor?”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. The lower floor.”
“What’s your aunt’s last name?”
“John,” said Jaime.
“Your aunt’s name is Jane John?”
“Yes.”
“Okaaay.” The clerk tucked the phone into the crook of her neck and typed the name. “I’m sorry, I don’t have an employee by that name.”
“Are you sure?” said Tess. “I know she told me that she worked at the New York Museum of Natural History.”
“This is the New-York Historical Society Museum and Library.”
“That’s different?” said Tess.
“Uh, yes?” said the clerk.