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little black dress aside.
    August leaned close to me. “We trust you,” he teased.
    Uncle Harry said, “It’s like unraveling a secret thread through time. You start with what you know: The book was brought in by a family wanting to sell the entire collection. They acquired the palimpsest from someone, somewhere. We need to find out who and where. You start unraveling through history.”
    I looked over at my uncle. “I’ve never done anything like this.” I’d helped at the auction house, and I’d helped him at home, doing a little fact-checking. I’d gone to the New York City public library, the big stone lions out front greeting me, and combed the reference section, but finding out where the palimpsest was from? I looked at August.
    “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll be fun.” He leaned in close and whispered, “You and me. On the hunt for a secret author. I could think of worse ways to spend the summer.”
    Professor Sokolov smiled at his son. “What are you two whispering about?”
    August shrugged.
    “Another thing,” Harry said. “The reason I’m sending you, Callie, is we want this kept quiet.”
    “Quiet? Why?”
    “Because you don’t announce something like this until you know what you have. You two can do some snooping without it seeming like official auction house business. We have to find out who A. was and when he lived.”
    “Who said it was a he?” I asked. “Maybe it’s a she.”
    “She has a point, Harry,” Professor Sokolov said.
    “Yes, yes. Either way, it’s completely quiet. We don’t tip our hand. If you think anyone is going to be pleased that they let, in essence, a priceless palimpsest slip through their fingers. It could be dangerous. People don’t take kindly to fortunes lost and found.”
    “Fortunes lost and found. It sounds more and more like a treasure hunt,” I said.
    “Treasure hunt and detective story rolled into one,” said August.
    And maybe romance and intrigue, I thought to myself, sneaking a glance at him.
    August said, “Come on. I’ll give you my e-mail and cell phone number. I have a card in my office.”
    I followed him. His office was a small room down the hall. Inside, it reminded me of his garden—terrariums and pots of green plants sat on the windowsill; a goldfish swam lazily in a giant bowl. “When he gets bigger can he join the fish in the pond out back?”
    “I don’t know. I kind of like having Albert to talk to.”
    “Albert?” I raised one eyebrow.
    He shrugged. “Einstein. What can I say? The fish and I discuss relativity . . . and beautiful girls.”
    I felt my cheeks redden.
    He handed me a business card. “That’s my e-mail and my cell phone number.”
    “Do you have your cell?”
    He handed me his phone, and I punched in my e-mail address, IM screen name, and cell phone number and handed it back to him.
    “Meet you tomorrow at the auction house. Nine o’clock?”
    I nodded. “Sure.”
    “We should be prepared—you never know where a manuscript will lead you.”
    I was already thinking that. Then I heard Uncle Harry calling me.
    “I better go,” I said. I felt like my heart was loud enough to echo off the ceiling.
    I found Uncle Harry in the hall and waved good-bye to August. When we were outside, Uncle Harry smirked.
    “What?” I demanded.
    “I knew that Audrey Hepburn dress would do the trick.”
    “You could have warned me. You could have told me that Dr. Sokolov had a gorgeous son. Drop-dead gorgeous.” Seriously drop-dead gorgeous . He was cuter than any guy in my entire school.
    “No, I couldn’t. Because then you would have been all worried and freaked out. You would have avoided this, just like you didn’t go to your junior prom, and you wouldn’t agree to that blind date with the grandson of the lady in 2B. You, Callie, are a chicken when it comes to dating. This was a lot better.”
    “A lot better? So . . . this was a plan?”
    We walked side by side up to the avenue to catch a