Bernard barked, “Apricot!”
Theo was thinking that, if her parents were that determined to name their child after a piece of fruit, that “Quince” or even “Gooseberry” might have been a more interesting choice, or at least more fun to say, when Apricot gestured for them to follow her to the bank of elevators. Once they were all inside, she stuck a key into a keyhole on the wall and turned it. She pressed a button marked B2.
“I don’t want you guys to get your hopes up or whatever,” Apricot said. “But I’ll let you look.”
“Thank you,” Tess said.
“You’ll have to be fast, though, because Bernard will have a complete cow if he has to answer the phone even once. Bernard doesn’t do phones.”
The doors opened onto a dim hallway painted the sort of pee yellow that someone had mistakenly assumed would cheer up the place. They followed Apricot down the hall into a small storage room with metal shelving. Apricot pointed to some water-stained boxes, a pile of stones and bricks, a rusted-out wheelchair missing a seat. “That’s all that’s left. We only saved this stuff because the museum people asked us to.”
“Thanks for letting us take a look,” Theo said.
Apricot didn’t even glance Theo’s way. “No one’s ever drawn me a picture before. I mean, no one’s ever drawn me a picture of me. That was, like, really cool. So, you guys have ten minutes.” Apricot disappeared into the hallway.
Since ten minutes wasn’t much time, they each took a box and began digging around. Theo found old discharge papers from random patients, spectacularly illegible doctor’s notes, and what looked like a handle for a gardening spade.
“Anything?” Tess said.
“Nothing stands out,” Theo said.
“When you don’t know what you’re looking for,” said Jaime, “nothing is going to stand out.”
“Or everything will.” Tess flipped her braid, attacked the pile of stones and brick, examining each. “Nectarine said that none of the stones and bricks were significant, but . . .”
“Apricot,” said Jaime.
“Pineapple,” Theo said.
“Raspberry,” said Tess. “None of these bricks are important bricks.” She moved on to a stack of dusty papers.
“Um,” Jaime said, holding up a tattered grayish coat with too-long sleeves. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Yep. Straitjacket,” said Theo. “This stuff really should be in a museum. Water could get in here, bugs, thieves, whatever.”
“We’re the thieves,” Tess said.
“Only if we take something,” said Theo. He flipped through a list of supplies, a bunch of crumbling bills, and a letter about something called a “zoological garden,” which argued that allowing the patients pets like bear cubs and goats could help with patients’ therapy.
“Not if the bear cubs ate the goats,” he muttered.
“What?” said Tess.
“Nothing,” said Theo. He pulled out a faded sheet of paper. A patient list?
Insane by mental excitement? By domestic trouble? By loss of property? Those didn’t sound like reasons to send anyone to an asylum, Theo thought.
A waterlogged book with its cover missing sat at the bottom of the box. Theo picked it up, idly turned to the title page. Penelope, by A Lady. An old book but a famous one, written sometime before the Civil War.
Theo was about to put the book back in the box when he saw the faded, barely there scrawl of brownish ink along the bottom of the page:
Is it insane to defend yourself against disreputable men, Doctor, or insane not to? I’m going home to find my heart. I hope you find yours.
—Ava O.
All around the inscription, someone had drawn a border made up of tiny stars within suns, the seal of the Morningstarrs.
His brain itched. Ava. It was a common enough name. Lots of people named Ava wandering around.
Yet, he knew that name. Everyone who had ever heard of the Morningstarrs knew that name.
It was the name of Theresa and Theodore’s closest companion. Their secretary, emissary, friend . . . and heir.
Miss Ava Oneal.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jaime
Theo was holding up a dusty old book like he was angry at it for something, but before he could tell them what was special about the book and why it made him so mad, Apricot-Pineapple-Raspberry appeared in the doorway. “Time’s up!” she said. “Bernard is totally pitching a fit.”
“But—” Tess began.
“No buts!” said Apricot. “He’s threatening to have me fired if I leave him upstairs by himself five more seconds.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jaime saw Theo tuck something behind his back. Jaime stepped in front of him so that Apricot wouldn’t see what Theo was doing. “Sorry,” Jaime said. “We didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
Apricot shrugged. “Oh, Bernie can’t get me in trouble. I just don’t want to listen to him screech anymore. Goes right up my spine.”
They quickly put everything back in the boxes. Tess kept up a steady stream of chatter as they rode the elevator back to the lobby. Nine sniffed at Apricot’s shoes and licked her knees. Theo stood rigidly against the wall of the elevator, his legs crossed like a little kid who had to go to the bathroom. As they walked through the lobby, they ignored Bernard’s icy stare, which, Jaime noticed, seemed to be focused on him rather than the twins, waved good-bye to Apricot, and burst out into the heat of the afternoon.
Once they were a block away from the Octagon, Tess said, “Okay, Theo. Show us what you found.”
Theo glanced around, then reached behind his back and pulled the book out from under his T-shirt. Penelope.
“I know that book,” said Jaime. “It’s one of my grandmother’s favorites.”
“Is that the one about the woman kidnapped from New York City and forced to work on a plantation? And then she escapes and fights her way back home to her fiancé?” said Tess.
“Yep,” Jaime said. “There’s a six-hour miniseries that Mima’s made me watch at least ten times. She loves the actor who plays Samuel Deerfoot.”
“Forget about the miniseries,” said Theo. “Look at this inscription.”
Tess said, “Ava O? Ava Oneal?”
Ava Oneal, Ava Oneal, Jaime thought. “Wait . . . the Ava Oneal? The Morningstarrs’ assistant? I thought she was just a legend!”
“Nope, not a legend,” said Tess. “They have some of her correspondence at the Old York Puzzler and Cipherist Society. And plenty of other people wrote about her in their own letters. There just aren’t any known pictures of her. Not even drawings, which is odd.”
Theo tugged so hard on his lip, Jaime worried he’d tug it right off. “There are a million Avas in the world,” he said. “That message could have been written by anyone. Also, we can’t be sure if it’s just a note or a clue.”
Tess began, “That’s too—”
“Do not say ‘adorable,’” Theo said.
“But—”
“It’s not adorable, it’s ridiculous!” He tried to kick a rock and missed, nearly landing on his back. “Why would the Morningstarrs leave a clue in some random book left to rot in an old building?”