Chapter 6: The Memo

The memo went up on the staff board at eight-fifteen on Monday morning, in Leland Gorse's loud, smug font.

I read it standing in the hall with my coffee going cold.

"To: All Collections Staff. From: Office of the Deputy Director. Re: Deaccession of the Crown of Tessar, effective Saturday, November 14."

I read it again.

"Effective."

"Lucy," said Ruthanne, from my elbow, in a very quiet voice. "Don't."

"He's selling it."

"I know."

"He's selling the crown."

"I know, honey. I priced the insurance."

Leland came out of his office at that moment.

He wore a fresh paisley tie and a pink, pleased face.

He rubbed his hands together.

He is fifty-four, and he has a comb-over he believes no one can see.

"Dr. Vreeland," he said. "I see you've found the news."

"You can't deaccession the Tessar crown."

"The board's approved it. The Tessarine Restoration Society has offered forty million dollars."

"For a hat?"

"For our roof, our boilers, and the new east wing," he said. "Forty million, Lucy. You'll have a bigger office."

He actually winked.

"They want to present it at the gala on the fourteenth. It's all arranged. There's going to be a very special tribute."

"What kind of tribute?"

"A surprise." He beamed. "You're going to love it."

The Restoration Society is a private club of rich people who dress in togas for their annual dinner.

They believe the empire of Tessar was the high point of human history.

They have sent me four letters asking to touch the crown.

I did not say any of the things in my head.

I said, "I'll be in the stairwell," and walked off with my coffee, with Ruthanne calling after me, "Lucy. Lucy!"

I took the service stairs two at a time and slammed through the fire door on the landing between the first floor and the basement.

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