Page 115 of Lost Then Found
He doesn’t look fazed. If anything, he looks like a man who’s heard everyexcuse in the book.
“I understand this is unexpected,” he says carefully, flipping through his papers, “but the official report states otherwise. The inspection flagged multiple violations, including improper food storage, evidence of rodent droppings in the dry goods pantry, and issues with temperature regulation in your refrigeration units.”
I blink at him.
The words feel so absurd that I don’t know whether to laugh or throw up.
Rodent droppings? Food storage violations?
Is this a fucking joke?
My head shakes before I even realize it. “No,” I say firmly, my voice rising. “That’s wrong. That didn’t happen. I was with her the entire time. She checked our storage, our refrigeration, everything. If something was off, she would have told me.”
Darren gives me a measured look, like he’s waiting for me to catch up to something he already knows.
I already know where this is going.
Wendell fucking Tate.
My skin heats, not just with panic now, but with fury.
I tighten my arms over my chest. “I don’t know what paperwork you have, but it’s wrong. This place hasneverhad a failed inspection.”
His expression doesn’t change. “Regardless, I have to go by what’s filed.”
I can feel the weight of eyes on me—regulars with their half-empty coffee cups paused midair, forks hovering over plates, pretending not to listen but hanging onto every word. My pulse is hammering so hard in my throat that it drowns out the normal buzz of conversation, the soft clinking of silverware, the scrape of a chair leg against the floor.
Dawn stands behind the counter, arms crossed tight over her chest, watching me with an expression that’s a mix of concern and barely restrained fury.
I shift my gaze back to Darren Montgomery, forcing myself to keep myexpression neutral even though I can feel the heat rising in my face, my fingers curling into my sides to keep from outright shaking.
He sighs, flipping through the stack of papers like maybe he doesn’t want to be standing here either. Like he’s just another cog in the system, following orders.
I straighten my shoulders. “How do I appeal this?”
His brow lifts, just slightly. “An appeal?”
I nod, chin tipped up. “If I failed—which, for the record, I didn’t—then I should be able to dispute the claim. There has to be a process.”
Darren sighs, flipping another page. “You can request a secondary inspection, but given the number of violations, your diner will remain closed in the meantime.”
The words hit me like a slap.Closed.
The breath rushes out of me, sharp and fast. “For how long?”
“That depends.” He tucks the papers neatly back into his portfolio, like this is just another box to check off before lunch. “Typically, business closures due to health code violations take anywhere from a few weeks to a couple of months, depending on the severity of the issues and how quickly they’re resolved.”
A few weeks. Maybe longer.
I hear Dawn inhale sharply from behind the counter. My stomach drops.
“I suggest you read through the report thoroughly,” Darren continues. “If you’d like to move forward with an appeal, you’ll need to submit a request in writing to the health department within seven business days. In the meantime, I’ll have to post the notice.”
His gaze flicks to the front window, like he’s already picturing where the bright orange sign is going to go.
A health department closure sign. Right there on the front door, for the whole town to see.
A slow, creeping nausea rolls through me, my hands going clammy.
