“Has it been there ever since?” Sofia asked.
Claire nodded.
“For twelve years.”
An hour later they stood in the basement laundry room of 114 Aldridge.
The desk was wedged between a vending machine and a shelf of abandoned detergent bottles.
It was scarred, faded, and covered with old community notices.
Mr. Harris met them downstairs.
When Claire explained what they were looking for, he shook his head.
“I’ve opened every drawer in that thing.”
Ruby crouched beside it.
“So did Grandma have secret drawers?”
Mr. Harris smiled.
“Your grandmother believed secrets were simply facts waiting for the correct audience.”
Nathaniel ran his fingers along the wood.
“My mother had a desk like this.”
He pushed one small drawer inward, then lifted it slightly.
Nothing happened.
Mr. Harris pointed toward a decorative wooden strip beneath the writing surface.
“Eleanor once hid Christmas money somewhere in there.”
Claire looked at him.
