Even Grandma had to bring it up. After practice, she and Keisha took the number 17 bus over to the Mt. Mercy campus. Mt. Mercy was the biggest piece of “not city” in the city—even bigger than Riverside Park—so the Carters often got calls about wild animals from people who lived next to the campus. The grounds were filled with beautiful old trees of all kinds—black walnuts, elms, sugar maples. The Carter family had picnics there at least once every spring and fall, when the leaves looked their prettiest.
“So did you get those problems with your routine all fixed up?”
“Grandma, there’s no problem with my routine. The only problem was that I messed up.”
“I don’t know if I would go so far as tha—”
Keisha stared out the window. “I got tangled twice during speed jumping and twice during my freestyle routine. I could do that routine in my sleep in fourth grade!”
“Keisha. Sweetie … take a cleansing breath.” Grandma inhaled deeply, pressing her back into the bus seat and exhaling noisily through her nose. A lady with a shopping bag full of groceries on her lap turned to stare.
“Grandma, people are looking.”
“Well then, let them learn something about the importance of the breath. Deep cleansing breath in …” Grandma blew out again … just as noisily. “Five … six … seven … releasing the tension … letting go of all the nervous energy …”
Keisha gave a big smile to the lady with the groceries before taking her own cleansing breath. Fortunately, they had reached the bus stop at the entrance to the college. Keisha pulled the wire to let the driver know they wanted to get off. “We’re here, Grandma. Mama said to go to the administration building.”
After they got off, Keisha tucked her chin into her jacket and studied the campus map mounted at the entrance.
Grandma scooped up handfuls of snow and tossed them over her head. “Look, Keisha! We’re in a blizzard!”
Even though Keisha got chilled easily, the fluffy flakes were hard to resist. She plowed through a big drift of snow with Grandma right behind her.
“Would you like a snow cupcake?” Grandma asked, holding out a handful of snow.
“No, I think I would like a snow cone, please.”
Grandma dropped the snow and grabbed another handful. “We’re fresh out of snow cones, but today’s special is a something-rather-new stew simmered slowly in my snow-cooker.”
“That would be fine.”
They shushed along through the drifts until they came to the sign for the administration offices. Keisha and Grandma looked up at the tall brick building.
“It’s like a gingerbread house with snow frosting,” Grandma said.
Grandma and Keisha brushed each other off and stomped the snow off their boots. Just as they were getting clean enough to go in, a big pile of snow fell out of the sky onto their heads.
“Vera Wang dang-doodle,” Grandma said, peering up at the roof. “You’re crushing my updo!”
“Uh, sorry about that. I usually shout ‘Man overboard!’ so folks know to get out of the way.”
Keisha looked up to see a man in a knit hat with a pair of bushy eyebrows peering over the edge of the roof.
“Roof needs to stay clear so we don’t get an ice jam up here,” he called down to them. “But I have strict orders not to douse the pedestrians. Do you need assistance? I can come down … take you to the cafeteria and buy you a cup of coffee.”
“Just look before you sweep next time!” Grandma called back. “You might douse an old lady!”
“Like I said, sorry about that.”
Grandma and Keisha swatted the snow off each other for the second time before entering the old building. No one was sitting at the reception desk.
Grandma knocked on the molding. “I wonder if anybody’s home,” she said. “It’s only four-thirty. I can’t imagine they’ve closed up yet.”
As if in answer to her question, an older woman in a business suit appeared in one of the doorways, a large purse dangling from her arm. She looked in their direction but did not seem to see them. Then she began digging in her purse.
“Excuse me. We’re here to see Mr. Fox,” Grandma said. “Could you point the way?”
“Oh dear. I can do better than that. I’ll show you. I’m going just that way. It seems I’ve misplaced my wallet again, and I may have left it in the copy room. I’m Sister Mary-Lee. How do you do?”
Keisha shook Sister Mary-Lee’s hand. If Sister was a nun, why wasn’t she wearing a …?
“The nuns here are Dominicans, dear. We don’t wear the habit at Mt. Mercy.” Sister Mary-Lee had a nice smile. “If that answers your question.”
Keisha wondered if Sister Mary-Lee could read her mind.
“Are you interested in employment opportunities with us?” she asked Grandma as they proceeded down the hall.
“Not exactly,” Grandma said as Sister Mary-Lee pushed the button for the elevator. “We’re here to fire some squirrels.”
“Those poor squirrels. I don’t know how they’re going to make it through the winter with the new rules in place.”
“What new rules?” Keisha asked.
“Why, the memo came from the president himself. Students, faculty and staff were ordered to stop feeding the squirrels.” She leaned down and whispered in Keisha’s ear. “We were asked to stop feeding them last summer when Campus Safety began getting complaints that squirrels were harassing the students for food.” Sister Mary-Lee straightened up. “The president will not tolerate emboldened squirrels.”
The elevator stopped and Sister Mary-Lee stepped out first. “This way, ladies. Mr. Fox’s office is next to the copy room.”
As they walked down the narrow hall, a man rushed out of an open office door. “Melissa, I need those rejection letters! My phone won’t stop ringing. This is what happens when you get four hundred applicants for a part-time posi— Oh …”
The man saw Grandma, Keisha and Sister Mary-Lee. He tugged on the waistband of his pants and tucked in the tail of his shirt. He was tall, with a shiny bald head covered in freckles. “Hello … sorry about that. Busy day.”
“They’re here to help with the squirrels,” Sister Mary-Lee said. “You haven’t happened to see my—”
“It’s in my top desk drawer,” said a young lady in a flowy skirt and ballet slippers who appeared in another doorway. She handed a stack of papers to Mr. Fox. “I found it by the coffeemaker,” she said, smiling at Keisha and Grandma. “I’m Melissa.”
“The coffeemaker?” Sister Mary-Lee looked once again into her purse, as if it held the answer to the mystery of her missing wallet. “I thought I left it by the copier. Hmmm …”
“It was open. My guess is you were contributing to the coffee fund. But all’s well that ends well,” Melissa said. She turned to Mr. Fox. “Good luck with the squirrels.” Melissa touched her fingers to her mouth to cover her smile. “I’m sure your five o’clock appointment will be here shortly.”
“Very funny,” Mr. Fox replied to Melissa’s back as she disappeared into her office. “Ladies, please come in.”
Keisha had to press by Grandma to sit in one of the two chairs across from Mr. Fox’s desk. He had a corner office. It was small, but it felt big because it had two windows that looked out over the trees and a courtyard garden. In the late-afternoon sun, Keisha could see the shapes of the statues covered in sparkly snow.
“Thank you for coming, ladies. Here’s the 411.” Mr. Fox sat down at his desk and adjusted the seat height. First he sank low, then he popped up so that his legs were stuck under the desk. “Darn thing,” he said, more to himself than to Grandma and Keisha. “So …” He folded his hands and looked at them both, frowning. “We have a lot of trees around here. And trees make nuts. And nuts bring squirrels. And to top it off, well-meaning people like our friend Sister Mary-Lee feed the birds and the squirrels and the chipmunks, too. So, what has happened over the years—”
But Mr. Fox didn’t need to tell them what had happened over the years because, right on cue, a squirrel hopped onto the window ledge behind him and flicked his bristly tail. And before they could say “kabibble,” the squirrel had leapt up and caught the edge of the windowpane just above his head.
“What has happened over the years—” Mr. Fox repeated.
Even though he wasn’t facing the window, Keisha could tell Mr. Fox knew what was going on behind him.
“As I was saying, our great founder, Mr. Charles Lowe, believed in the preservation of nature.…”
It was hard to pay attention to the history of the situation at the same time that a squirrel hung there, trying to catch his footing, his little feet banging up against the window.
“Heavens to Betsey Johnson.” Grandma stood up and walked around the desk. She rapped on the window with her knuckle, but the squirrel just chattered at her. “He’s a stubborn little guy.”
“Please don’t, Mrs. Carter. I’ve tried that already. I’ve shot rubber bands at the window and shined my telescoping shop light right in their eyes.” Mr. Fox massaged the skin at his temples. “All I’ve managed to do is make one squirrel lose his footing and fall.”
“Have you tried this?” Grandma unhooked the latch on the window and started to push on the sash.
“It’s painted shut. Please come away from the window. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want him to go away.” Mr. Fox turned back to Keisha. “Can you imagine what it’s like to interview job candidates with a squirrel dangling from the windowsill behind your head?”
“Is he your five o’clock appointment?” Keisha asked.
“Yes! Around lunchtime and five p.m. almost every day, a squirrel shows up and tries to climb to the terrace above me. Sometimes it’s more than one! It’s very unnerving. I have no idea what he’s trying to get to … there’s nothing on the fourth floor but empty offices.”
“Maybe … maybe someone is feeding the squirrels from a window above yours …,” Keisha suggested. “And that person goes there when there’s no one else around.”
“No, no. I’m sure not.” Mr. Fox smoothed his hand over his head and adjusted his tie. “The woman who used to have this position put peanuts on the ledge out there. I think they’re still hoping I’ll do the same. But I can assure you that hasn’t happened since I became human resources director. What do you think?” Mr. Fox asked. “Is there a safe way to discourage these squirrels?”
The squirrel was still outside doing pull-ups on the windowpane. Keisha wondered how long it could hang on.
“Keisha?” Grandma asked.
Keisha looked at Grandma. She usually talked first. “Um … I think the problem bears further study,” Keisha said, which was the line that Daddy used when he wanted more time to think things through.
Finally, the squirrel managed to get his hind legs up on the windowpane. Now he was hanging upside down, looking in at them.
“Well …” Grandma cleared her throat. She sat up straight in her chair. “Squirrels have small brains, but maybe ninety-eight percent of that brainpower is used to fulfill one task, and—”
A loud scraping noise at the window interrupted Grandma. The squirrel had used the windowpane to launch himself into the cold winter afternoon. Grandma and Keisha stood up together, straining to get a look. They were relieved to see a squirrel, all in one piece, chattering at them from the branch of a nearby tree. He scurried up the trunk until he was out of sight.
Grandma leaned on Mr. Fox’s desk and looked into his eyes.
“We have the bigger brains, Mr. Fox. The task before us is to outfox these squirrels. No pun intended, of course.”