Page 60 of Finding Yesterday
I purse my lips, hesitating. “It’s um, a little cage.”
“We have rodents?” He shakes his head as the implications of what’s happening settle in. His jaw tenses. “Why didn’t you tell me we had a rodent problem?”
“I just discovered it yesterday.”
“Oh, boy. Because…” He shakes his finger at the cage. “Because you wanted to get here with your cage first and try and save the mouse?”
I swallow hard, unable to find the words to respond.
I’m not sure if he’s going to yell at me, but then he bursts into laughter. “Claire Millie Cole, you are really something.”
“Mice have rights too.” The corners of my mouth tick up.
He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Maybe, but I don’t think your little cage is going to cut it. We could be shut down for this, so we have to call a professional. There’s probably more than one.”
I groan. “Can you just give me a day? To see if it’s a one-off?”
“Claire,” he says, his voice soft. “This isn’t something we can mess around with. If an inspector stops by and we have this little setup going on, we could be shut down immediately.”
My shoulders sag. “Okay, sorry.” I puff my chest. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. But if you bring up your online reviews again, I’m going to scream my head off. Which will echo in this small space and hurt your ears.”
He chuckles again. “All right. I have to call someone, but in the meantime, let’s put your cage down so that”—he bats a hand at the floor—“that thing doesn’t come running out again.”
I fold my arms. “Fine.”
“Let me help.” Jack steps in and we both look, finding a small crack on the bottom shelf where the mouse likely got in. We move in to study it, and I see something strange. A gap between the shelf and the wall. “What’s this?” I run my finger along the crack, finding a latch underneath. I flip it, and the whole shelf pops loose. “Holy crap!”
“Wait. This is a door.” Jack immediately runs his finger along the gap to the top of the shelf. I hear the click of another latch before the shelf completely separates from the wall.
I blink in awe as I watch Jack push the entire shelf. Sure enough, it rotates on an axis.
I gasp. “No way! How did you know that?”
He looks at me, blinking. “I don’t know how I know,” he says, his voice soft. “I wish I did. More than anything.”
We both scramble to peer inside, which is a small space filled with empty shelves. Excitement tingles through me as Jack launches the flashlight on his phone and shines it in. “There’s tons of extra storage space in here,” I say, my eyes scanning the room. But there’s nothing on the shelves except mouse poops.
“I don’t see anything in here,” he says. “You?”
“Not really.” My shoulders sag. “It’s just a cozy mouse mansion.”
“More like a mouse toilet.”
“Ha ha.”
As Jack continues to move his light, I see a vague change of color on one of the shelves. “Wait. Thereissomething in here.”
“No way.”
We both step inside at the same time, our bodies crashing into each other as we rush up to the wall. Since I’m faster on the draw, it’s me who grabs the rolled piece of paper. We head back out to the pantry where there’s light, and he and I both unroll it on the floor. It’s old, yellowed, and dusty.
After kneeling and getting a good look, I see a drawing on it—some sort of hand-sketched architectural plans. Boxes for rooms, tiny circles for tables, and measurements. “It looks like plans for a bar or restaurant?” I blow on it, and dust flies up into my face. “Ouch.” I rub my eyes.
“You okay?” He puts his hand on my shoulder.
I love how Jack’s always so concerned about me—and it’s genuine, just a part of him.
“Fine.” I blink away the grains before pointing to the scribbles on the paper. “What does that say?”
