Early Saturday morning, Ivy quietly slid open the basement window at the back of her house, climbed inside, and crept down the stairs to her room.
Olivia was curled up on top of her bed, wearing Ivy's pajamas with the gravestones on them and hugging a black cat pillow.
Only four days until Dad and I move, Ivy thought sadly as she looked down on her sleeping sister. And then who knows when I'll see Olivia again?
She decided to let her sister sleep for a few more minutes. She slipped into the chair in front of her desk and powered up the new laptop computer her dad had gotten her for boarding school.
Ivy waited anxiously for her new e-mails to appear on the screen. Her heart sank when they finally did; there was still no response from the art museum. She let out a colossal sigh.
"Still nothing?" her sister's voice came from behind her.
Ivy wheeled her chair around to find Olivia sitting up in bed. "We're running out of time," Ivy told her.
Olivia nodded sadly and tightened her clutch on the black cat pillow.
"I know my father wouldn't turn down this job," Ivy said, "but we can't afford to sit around anymore waiting for them to offer it to him."
"Maybe we should take Sophia's advice," said Olivia, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "except instead of chaining ourselves to your dad's car, we should chain ourselves to the front doors of the museum."
That gave Ivy an idea. She spun her chair back around and went to the museum's Web site.
"They open at 10 A.M. on Saturdays," she told her sister.
"I wasn't being serious," Olivia told her. "But I am," Ivy said. "We have to go down there and get them to offer Dad the job.Today."
"In that case" - Olivia stretched her arms - "we'd better call for backup."
That afternoon, huddled in their own warm clothes on the sidewalk in front of the sleek, slanted marble facade of the Franklin Grove Art Museum, Ivy and her sister waited for Brendan to arrive. Ivy had called Sophia and Camilla to see if they could come, too, but they each had plans. Ivy made a mental note to find time to get the whole group together in the next couple of days - it might be her last chance. She felt like a vampire in one of those old movies: there were only a few precious minutes until sunrise, and after that she'd turn to dust.
Brendan appeared down the block, wearing his heavy black parka, and just the sight of him made Ivy feel a little better. She waved and he picked up his pace. He came up and wrapped his arms around her, dipped her like they were ballroom dancing, and kissed her on the neck.
"Save it for the graveyard," Olivia deadpanned beside them, and they both laughed. Then the three of them made their way across the slate courtyard and into the museum.
Ivy hadn't been there since her sixth-grade field trip, and she'd forgotten what an amazing place it was. The interior of the building was like the inside of a huge cone. An enormous ramp dotted with sculptures spiraled its way up the wall. Ivy stood with Brendan and Olivia in the center of the gray marble floor on the ground level, and they could see people admiring art, snaking all the way up to the skylight and observation deck in the center of the ceiling far above, like the hole in the top of a parking pylon. Olivia went over to look at a glowing map of the building. "The curator's office is on level four," she said, and they started to make their way up the ramp.
Ivy couldn't help slowing down to look at some of the art.There was a life-size sculpture of a skydiver made entirely of wire and a tree that looked utterly real, except it had tiny peepholes carved in its trunk. When Ivy looked through one, she saw a completely realistic 3-D highway running vertically, like a vein in the tree, with dozens of cars racing upward. Olivia was next to her, looking in another hole. "Cool," Olivia said. "It's an art class drawing a model." Every peephole showed something different.
On level two, they passed an enormous papiermache zebralike creature with rainbow stripes, huge bloodshot eyes, and the legs of a centipede. Olivia wrinkled her nose. "This one's weird."
"It's hideous," Ivy agreed.
Brendan bent over the little plaque alongside the sculpture. "'Zebraguts,'" he read. "'Sculpture by Alice Bantam.'"
Ivy's mouth dropped open. "It's one of Alice's!"
"Can you imagine if your dad had fallen for her and you had to live with something like this?" Olivia giggled.
"No," Ivy answered. "Thank darkness that plan failed!"
Following the signs to the curator's office on the fourth level, they proceeded down a narrow hallway that shot off from the main ramp. At the end of it was a frosted door with Mr. Grosvenor's name on it in gilded letters. Ivy knocked, and a moment later Mr. Grosvenor himself pulled open the door. He was dressed in gray slacks and a white button-down shirt. "Can I help you?"
Ivy tried to speak, but she was so nervous nothing came out of her mouth.
"We're here about the curator job for the new exhibit," Olivia explained, stepping forward. "Oh," Mr. Grosvenor said, looking the three of them up and down. "I'm sure you're all very talented. But I'm afraid we're looking for someone with a bit more experience."
"It's not for us," said Brendan, glancing at Ivy encouragingly.
"I'm Ivy Vega," Ivy croaked at last.
Mr. Grosvenor's face lit up. "Charles's daughter!"
He extended his hand. "Of course, I should have recognized you. I just read your father's e-mail!" Ivy's heartbeat quickened. "And this must be the twin sister I've read about in the papers," Mr. Grosvenor went on.
Olivia shook the curator's hand as Brendan introduced himself, too.
"Welcome," said Mr. Grosvenor. "Please, come in."
Mr. Grosvenor offered Ivy, Olivia, and Brendan white molded plastic chairs opposite his desk, which was completely bare except for a pad of paper and a bust of an old man's head made entirely of paper clips.
"So, what brings you to see me?" Mr. Grosvenor asked, perching casually on the edge of the desk.
All day, Ivy had been mentally rehearsing a speech about how her father was the perfect person to set up the exhibition. "Mr. Grosvenor," she began, "I believe my father is ideally suited to the opening you are trying to fill. He is - "
"I agree completely," Mr. Grosvenor interrupted.
"Completely?" Ivy repeated in shock.
"I can't think of a stronger candidate," Mr. Grosvenor said with a smile. "I'll be calling your father as soon as I have approval from the board."
"When will that be?" asked Olivia quickly.
"Sometime in January," Mr. Grosvenor replied, "or possibly February."
Ivy's stomach dipped suddenly, like she was falling from a great height. "Can't you do it sooner?" she pleaded.
"I wouldn't want to bother anyone before the new year," Mr. Grosvenor said with a shrug.
I should have known it wouldn't be so easy, Ivy thought.
Brendan nudged Ivy's boot with his own. He locked eyes with her, and she could tell he wanted her to tell the truth. Ivy looked toward Olivia, who also gave her a tiny nod.
"Is something wrong?" Mr. Grosvenor inquired.
"Very," Ivy admitted. Words started pouring out of her mouth. "My dad didn't send you that e-mail, Mr. Grosvenor. I did. We're moving to Europe in four days. But I know that if my dad got this job in Franklin Grove, he'd stay. He's always wanted to work for the museum.You can't wait until the new year. By then, he'll be gone." Ivy looked down at her lap. "And so will I."
"I see," Mr. Grosvenor said, sounding disappointed. With one hand, he stroked the streak of white hair on one side of his head.
"I should never have forged the e-mail," Ivy said, ashamed of herself. "I know it was wrong. I'm sorry."
Mr. Grosvenor slowly went around to his chair and picked up the phone.
He's calling the police! Ivy thought in a panic.
"Will you please remind me of your father's number?" Mr. Grosvenor said instead. Ivy and Olivia both gasped. "After all," the curator said with a smile, "we can't have Charles Vega leaving Franklin Grove without even knowing about this job."
As Mr. Grosvenor dialed, Ivy reached out on either side of her. Olivia grasped one hand, and Brendan took the other. This is our last chance, she thought.
"Hello, Charles? Walter Grosvenor here. I'm sorry to call you on a Saturday, but there is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here at the museum that I think you ought to seriously consider."
Olivia, Brendan, and Ivy sat on the edge of their seats as Mr. Grosvenor described the position. Then he paused, listening to what Ivy's dad was saying on the other end.