“Yes, but the Morningstarrs couldn’t have predicted whether the objects or paintings or whatever these things are stayed in the area. Old things get shipped to other places. Old things get sold to collectors,” Theo said.

“The Morningstarrs had faith,” said Jaime.

“Huh?”

“They had faith that these items were so important that someone would preserve them.”

Tess didn’t say it out loud, but she thought it: Or, the Morningstarrs knew that someone would preserve them. But maybe that was the definition of faith. Something that you can’t prove but you know in your heart is true even when you can’t explain it.

“We can search museum collections online,” Tess said.

“And we can call the museums, too,” Jaime said.

“Talk on the phone?” Theo said. “That sounds horrible.”

“Some people still do it,” said Tess.

“Old people still do it,” Theo insisted. “Mom does it.”

“Theo has phone anxiety,” Tess explained to Jaime.

“I do not!”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she said.

“I’m not embarrassed,” Theo said, blushing.

“But there have to be hundreds of museums in New York City,” said Jaime.

They spent the rest of the morning searching museum collections online, took a break for lunch; Aunt Esther ordered a pizza for them, and then had to order another one when Tess complained she was still hungry. Then, they spent the afternoon calling big museums with enormous art collections dating back to the ancient Greeks and odd little museums that exhibited things like toothpastes from around the world and a shoe once thrown at the head of a former president of the United States. They got switched from department to department, and told repeatedly that they would just have to visit the museum themselves if they wanted more specific information, or informed that crank-calling museums was “a seriously silly thing to do,” or directed to current exhibits of other things they might be interested in, like elevator plaques from the Elevator Historical Society, a trivet from the Cast-Iron Museum, a tricycle with square wheels from the Museum of Mathematics, a giant butterfly called a “dogface” from the Staten Island Museum’s Wall of Insects.