Moxie and the Art of Rule Breaking (28 page)

I cracked one eye open, but she was smiling. Having her daughter nearly kidnapped or killed by gangsters had made the “You are in so much trouble, young lady” lecture much softer.

“I can’t believe you did all that on your own,” she said for the thirty thousandth time. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrugged. “I wanted to keep you and Nini out of it,” I said. “I was afraid you’d get hurt, or be angry, or that something would happen to Grumps.” Although, based on Nini’s tight-faced expressions since I’d been released from the hospital, my hunch that she knew more than she’d let on was confirmed. She and I would need to have a conversation—soon.

Mom shook her head. “You are just like your grandfather.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She stopped the car in front of Alton Rivers. “Want me to come with you?” she asked.

“I got it,” I said.

I hadn’t been to see Grumps since everything went down at Fenway. I was as nervous about this encounter as I had been with Sully Cupcakes. As I crossed the reception area, I took a deep breath.

He wasn’t in the rec room, but Angel was. He waved and pointed to the porch.

I opened the door. Grumps was in his wheelchair, facing
the garden. From his posture, I could tell he was alert. He turned when he heard the door close behind me.

“Moxie! I’ve missed you.” I bent down and gave him a big hug.

“Grumps, I have to tell you something,” I said. I hiccupped. The tears started.

“You found it all?” he said. I leaned back, shocked that he would remember our conversation from last week. I nodded and wiped my tears.

“Who has it?”

“The museum. Sully is going back to prison.”

He bobbed his head, once, like that was all he needed to hear.

“Good, then. It’s Wednesday,” he said. “I saved you my pudding. Want to play checkers?”

“Sure.” I hugged him again, hard, and went to get the board.

Several years ago, I visited the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston and became fascinated by its history and the theft that made the museum famous:

Early in the morning of March 18, 1990, two men dressed as Boston police officers overwhelmed the security guards at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum and then spent over an hour alone in the building, stealing thirteen pieces of priceless art. These masterpieces have yet to be found.

The theft simultaneously captures my imagination and breaks my heart: This beautiful artwork, if not preserved or stored properly, will be ruined. Moxie and Ollie’s adventure in discovering the pieces is purely fiction—just me, playing detective and coming up with exciting hiding places.

However, I have tried to accurately represent the publicly revealed information about the theft, using the museum’s website, public FBI information regarding the missing art, and visits to the museum as my main sources. I’ve also tried
to accurately represent Boston, its neighborhoods, and its landmarks (taking a few minor liberties here and there).

As of this writing, the Gardner theft is still unsolved and under active investigation by the FBI and US Attorney’s Office. All parties hope for a safe return of the artwork.

For more information about the theft and the five-million-dollar reward offered by the museum, go to: www.gardnermuseum.org/resources/theft. Your library might have a copy of Ulrich Boser’s
The Gardner Heist
(Smithsonian, 2009), or the documentary
Stolen
(Virgil Films), which also detail the events surrounding the robbery.

Who knows…maybe you’ll be the one to find and return the art!

So many people helped me create this little work of art:

My agent, Sally Harding, who fell in love with Moxie and her grandfather a long time ago;

My editor, Liz Waniewski, who shaped and developed the manuscript with care and thoughtfulness;

My Penguin cover designer Danielle Delaney and publicist Molly Sardella, who make the book look beautiful and help it to reach readers;

My Penguin copyeditor, Regina Castillo, who patiently corrects my grammar mistakes and plotting gaffes (any mistakes left in the manuscript are mine, not hers);

My writing group: Annette, Gary, Heather, Kate, Megan, Phoebe, and Ruthbea, who read draft after draft and offered insight and constructive criticism;

My colleagues, Dr. Kimberlee Cloutier-Blazzard, Leonie Bradbury, and Laura Tonelli, who answered my varied and ignorant art history, curatorial, and restoration questions;

My mom, who read chapters as I finished them, pushed me to write faster, figured out continuity errors, and babysat while I worked;

My crit partner, Jennifer Jabaley, who kept me on track;

My readers, who make my day with every letter or e-mail they take the time to send;

My friends Dianne and Scott, who gave Moxie their Jamaica Plain apartment and left work to photograph the Trinity Church sign;

My friends: Anne, Mike and Wendy, Katie, Kerri, and Shelagh, who support me and listen patiently;

My husband, Frank, who gave me a membership to the Gardner Museum, research materials, and the support, space, and time to write this book.

All of you have my heartfelt thanks and deepest appreciation.

Special thanks to teachers who match books with children; the local libraries and independent book stores like The Book Rack, in Arlington, MA, that enhance our communities; and to readers everywhere.