information when he was hundreds of miles away? "I couldn't even get a letter to him in time," I pointed out.
"This town is so backward we don't even have phone service yet," she said.
"Even if we called him at the hotel from Buffalo, what would we say?"
"You're right -- I'm sure he would never remember us. That's why we have to go there to talk to him as he leaves the hotel or has a meal in the dining room," she said, as if it should have been obvious.
"Go there?" Had she lost her mind?
She hooked her arm through mine conspiratorially. "We have to leave immediately. I have some money saved from working at the Spirit. Do you have any?"
"Yes, but Mother will never let us go off to New York City on our own," I reminded her.
"I know. That's why we're not going to tell her,"
***
Chapter 9
S eventeen hours later, Mimi and I were in the palatial lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in New York City.
We had taken a ride to Buffalo with Aunty Lily in her new automobile, a crank model of which she was very proud. Mimi misled her to think we were going with Mother's blessing. Mother was in the midst of another heartfelt letter to W. T. Stead and paid no notice of anything else when she was involved in this correspondence. We wrote her a hasty note that we left on the front porch table, assuring her we'd be fine.
We'd slept for the whole trip down, so we weren't feeling too tired when we arrived. Even if we had stayed awake the entire time, we were so high-strung with excitement we'd have barely noticed the fatigue.
We encamped on two of the velvet-upholstered chairs in the Waldorf-Astoria's lobby. We had decided that Tesla had to come down at some point to eat; we would connect with him when he did.
I didn't exactly mind waiting there, fascinated as I was by this grand hotel. The lobby couches and square chairs were exquisitely rich and vibrant in color, their walnut-wood arms and backs gleaming with high polish set off by their gold details. The elaborate wooden moldings on the ceiling were illuminated by the glowing white globes of chandeliers set in a long row. A mixture of cinnamon and rose petal fragrances infused every inch of the lobby.
An hour passed quickly as Mimi and I goggled at the parade of high-fashion guests who passed by, dressed in the latest styles. Not far off, the desk manager started stealing suspicious glances in our direction. My stomach growled. We'd eaten cheese sandwiches on the train, but it was getting close to lunchtime. "I don't think they'd let us eat here, but maybe I could sneak a snack in," Mimi proposed. "You watch for Tesla. I'll go see what I can find."
I was once again observing the dazzlingly rich saunter through and marking each face to make sure Tesla didn't slip past unnoticed when a young man rushed by. I guessed him to be in his late teens, maybe early twenties. He caught my attention because ... well, to be absolutely honest, it was because he was so good-looking. He had short, sort of tousled, light brown hair and a slim, athletic build. His pants were gray and his summer jacket was light blue. Although he was neat, his attire did not bespeak the kind of wealth that typified the place.
He hurried to the front desk, and his words put me on full alert. "Could you tell Mr. Tesla that Thad is on his way up?" he requested.
Instantly, I was on my feet, frantically wondering what Sherlock Holmes would do at such a moment as this.
Follow him! Of course.
It was difficult to hang back inconspicuously, as Holmes would have done, since Thad was heading for one of the elevators. If I let him get on and go up without me, I'd have conducted the briefest tail in the history of all detective work. So I picked up my pace and scooted into the car alongside him, just as the white-gloved elevator operator closed the gated door.
"Floor?" the operator inquired, looking first to me.
My mind raced. I had no idea what to reply. Then it came to me. "Top floor, please," I said, trying to sound
"This town is so backward we don't even have phone service yet," she said.
"Even if we called him at the hotel from Buffalo, what would we say?"
"You're right -- I'm sure he would never remember us. That's why we have to go there to talk to him as he leaves the hotel or has a meal in the dining room," she said, as if it should have been obvious.
"Go there?" Had she lost her mind?
She hooked her arm through mine conspiratorially. "We have to leave immediately. I have some money saved from working at the Spirit. Do you have any?"
"Yes, but Mother will never let us go off to New York City on our own," I reminded her.
"I know. That's why we're not going to tell her,"
***
Chapter 9
S eventeen hours later, Mimi and I were in the palatial lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in New York City.
We had taken a ride to Buffalo with Aunty Lily in her new automobile, a crank model of which she was very proud. Mimi misled her to think we were going with Mother's blessing. Mother was in the midst of another heartfelt letter to W. T. Stead and paid no notice of anything else when she was involved in this correspondence. We wrote her a hasty note that we left on the front porch table, assuring her we'd be fine.
We'd slept for the whole trip down, so we weren't feeling too tired when we arrived. Even if we had stayed awake the entire time, we were so high-strung with excitement we'd have barely noticed the fatigue.
We encamped on two of the velvet-upholstered chairs in the Waldorf-Astoria's lobby. We had decided that Tesla had to come down at some point to eat; we would connect with him when he did.
I didn't exactly mind waiting there, fascinated as I was by this grand hotel. The lobby couches and square chairs were exquisitely rich and vibrant in color, their walnut-wood arms and backs gleaming with high polish set off by their gold details. The elaborate wooden moldings on the ceiling were illuminated by the glowing white globes of chandeliers set in a long row. A mixture of cinnamon and rose petal fragrances infused every inch of the lobby.
An hour passed quickly as Mimi and I goggled at the parade of high-fashion guests who passed by, dressed in the latest styles. Not far off, the desk manager started stealing suspicious glances in our direction. My stomach growled. We'd eaten cheese sandwiches on the train, but it was getting close to lunchtime. "I don't think they'd let us eat here, but maybe I could sneak a snack in," Mimi proposed. "You watch for Tesla. I'll go see what I can find."
I was once again observing the dazzlingly rich saunter through and marking each face to make sure Tesla didn't slip past unnoticed when a young man rushed by. I guessed him to be in his late teens, maybe early twenties. He caught my attention because ... well, to be absolutely honest, it was because he was so good-looking. He had short, sort of tousled, light brown hair and a slim, athletic build. His pants were gray and his summer jacket was light blue. Although he was neat, his attire did not bespeak the kind of wealth that typified the place.
He hurried to the front desk, and his words put me on full alert. "Could you tell Mr. Tesla that Thad is on his way up?" he requested.
Instantly, I was on my feet, frantically wondering what Sherlock Holmes would do at such a moment as this.
Follow him! Of course.
It was difficult to hang back inconspicuously, as Holmes would have done, since Thad was heading for one of the elevators. If I let him get on and go up without me, I'd have conducted the briefest tail in the history of all detective work. So I picked up my pace and scooted into the car alongside him, just as the white-gloved elevator operator closed the gated door.
"Floor?" the operator inquired, looking first to me.
My mind raced. I had no idea what to reply. Then it came to me. "Top floor, please," I said, trying to sound
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