The Mysterious Edge of the Heroic World by E.L. Konigsburg Page B

that they didn’t want even if she had given it to them.
    When the Freer Gallery purchased the screen and William called the Vindicator with the news, Mrs. Wilcox got many phone calls of congratulations from other dealers as well as from other people who had things they wanted her to sell. But for many days neither Bert nor Ray called. When finally they did, Mrs. Wilcox said, “I found out that that there screen was really worth twenty-five thousand. Guess I just still got a lot to learn.”
    When Bert and Ray teased Mrs. Wilcox about how she got “taken” by the Freer, Mrs. Wilcox laughed at herself right along with them.
    That was her way.
    Mrs. Wilcox had figured out that Bert and Ray were having a difficult time accepting the fact that she, Dora Ellen Wilcox, who had once been their student, already knew more than they did. And she had also figured out how to turn away their subconscious anger.

    â€œBert and Ray can’t but admit to theirselves that they made a mistake about that Chinese screen. But Ma is stillgrateful, so when she’s doing a big sale like this one, she keeps a list of special stuff for them.”
    â€œStuff like those candlesticks?”
    â€œYeah, they’ll be right up there near the top of Ma’s list. And in this business you also have to know vintage. Vintage means it’s old, but not as old as antique. Like that big stove over there. Someone’s gonna buy it. There’s a big market for old bathroom stuff, too. Bathtubs with claw feet are very popular. And people even buy old toilets. That’s because new toilets are made to low flush to save water, and sometimes, they just don’t—flush, that is. But mostly people like these big old appliances. Appliances don’t get to be old. They get to be vintage . ”
    â€œYou just said old kitchen stuff and old bathroom stuff, old toilets, and big old appliances.”
    â€œBut to the customers we say vintage. ”
    Amedeo repeated, “Vintage.”
    William motioned to Amedeo to follow him to the other side of the room. From the bottom cabinet of the center island, he pulled out a heavy, metal, domed object. It was covered with a thick layer of sticky dust. “Now, take this here waffle iron. It must be older than toothache.” He pulled the cord from the base and began to wind it into a figure eight. The cord resisted; it was thick as a garden hose and the black-and-yellow cotton insulationwas stiff and dry; the plug that connected to the appliance was as big as a hockey puck, and the plug that went into the wall as big as a doorknob. “Somebody’s going to want this old dinosaur of a waffle iron. They’ll get it all rewired and have the neighbors over for a waffle brunch.”
    Amedeo looked at the waffle iron for a long time. He examined the oil drippings that had congealed like amber down its sides. Without saying a word, he went to the sink and wet a wad of paper towel. With it he rubbed enough grime from the top to make a small convex reflecting mirror. He said, “Maybe they will just put it on a tabletop and display it like a piece of Art Deco sculpture.”
    William laughed. “What do you know about Art Deco?”
    Amedeo immediately answered, “The Chrysler Building in New York is Art Deco.”
    William coiled the last foot of the electric cord and pulled the plug through one of the loops, plunked it onto the countertop, and demanded, “What else?”
    â€œI know that Art Deco was the style between World War I and World War II.”
    â€œHow do you know all that?”
    Amedeo said, “My dad is an artist. I know a lot about art. Jake—my dad—he mostly paints nudes, so I know that a nude is not the same thing as naked. Jake—mydad—has a lot of friends who are artists, and my godfather, Peter Vanderwaal, is an art director. I’ve definitely been to more art exhibits than most kids my age have been to