Free Stealing Magic by Marianne Malone

all about food and dining, and she heard phrases such as
“Je voudrais manger une pomme, s’il vous plaît”
and
“La viande est délicieuse.”
She wasn’t sure if “I would like to eat an apple, please” or “The meat is delicious” would come in handy in 1937 Paris, but she had to start somewhere. As she drifted off, the sounds of the words turned into pictures in her head and she saw the letters
v-i-a-n-d-e
floating by, and then
p-o-m-m-e
morphed into shiny apples bobbing like a dancing chorus line over the bed. Soon she was dreaming of rooms and tables and pencils. More juicy-looking apples appeared; Ruthie tried to grab one, but they were just out of reach.
    Ruthie remembered to arrive on time—actually a few minutes early—for her drawing lesson on Sunday. Dora’s height and long stride made her stand out among the crowd of people, and Ruthie waved to her. Dora checked her watch as she had yesterday and smiled in approval.
    “You’re early!” she said in greeting.
    “I hate being late,” Ruthie responded.
    “Me too! We seem to have a lot in common.” Dora looked over Ruthie’s practice sketches and gave her comments and a few pointers. Again, they chatted while they worked; she appeared genuinely interested in everything Ruthie had to say. After they had sketched for some time—Ruthie worked on a New England bedroom with a canopy bed—Dora made an offer.
    “How would you like to see the installation? I mean in the corridor behind the rooms. I need to make a few notes for my own research about how the rooms were constructed, and I don’t think it would be a problem for me to show you.”
    Ruthie tried to look excited, though she had already been in the corridor many times. “Sure, that would be great.”
    “I have use of the key. The archivist gave me authorization.” Dora dangled the key like a fishing lure.
    Stepping into the corridor, Ruthie heard the familiar sound of the door locking automatically as it shut.
    It was odd to be in the corridor with someone other than Jack. Ruthie pretended she had never seen any of this before. They walked along to the first turn, just steps away from the duct-tape climbing strip. Ruthie had devised this a few months ago so she and Jack—after shrinking—could climb up and crawl through the heating duct to reach the corridor that ran behind the American rooms. She hoped Dora wouldn’t notice it.
    “Just like you, I’ve learned loads of fascinating things in the archive. Mrs. Thorne was meticulous about explaining the details,” Dora said. “But what surprises me most are some of the unexplained aspects.”
    “I know,” Ruthie agreed.
    “Did you come across her notes about the secret shop in Paris?”
    “Yeah. Jack and I were really interested in that!”
    “Yes! So intriguing!” Dora responded. “And did you find any documents about a key?”
    Ruthie’s stomach tensed, but she was able to answer truthfully. “No. We didn’t find any documents about a key.”
    “That’s too bad. I found a couple of obscure references to a very old key that one of her craftsmen acquired. They seemed to think it was extremely important. I was hoping maybe …,” she began, but just then they arrived at the climbing strip. Ruthie’s stomach clenched even more.
    “Look at this.” Dora stopped to examine the vertical oddity. “What on earth could it be?”
    Ruthie kept quiet.
    “Hmmm,” Dora murmured, observing how three lengths of tape ran from the ground to the air vent. She touched the three strips. “This center one has the sticky side out.” She turned and aimed her very blue eyes at Ruthie. “Any theories?”
    Ruthie shrugged.
    “I should probably say something to the staff about this.” Dora kept staring at Ruthie.
    “Maybe you shouldn’t,” Ruthie finally blurted out.
    “Why not? Whatever it is doesn’t belong here,” Dora said logically.
    “I don’t know.” Ruthie wished she’d stayed quiet.
    “Ruthie?” Dora asked in a voice