Meet Oliver Pine Wickett, Keeper of Lost Things

There is a little workshop hidden behind an old clock in the Moonkeeper’s lighthouse. Its shelves are made of driftwood, its treasures have tiny labels, and its keeper is a brown mouse with round spectacles and a lantern small enough to fit in his paw.

His name is Oliver Pine Wickett, and I would love for you to meet him.

Oliver is the heart of Oliver Wickett, Keeper of Lost Things, an adventure from the world of The Moonkeeper’s Cat. He shares that world with Miro, Alden, Juniper, and the other friends who make Moon Bay feel like somewhere you might want to visit.

Of course, visiting Oliver requires looking a little closer. His doorway is small, and the things he cares for are easy to walk past.

A button. A ribbon. A feather. A shell.

To Oliver, each one deserves a moment of attention.

His workshop holds acorns, a compass, a ring, keys, and even a tiny pale whisker tucked safely inside a jar. He gathers things that have wandered away from pockets, shelves, and the people who once held them. Then he brings them home, gives them a place, and records what he knows.

There is something endearing about imagining a mouse writing a label so small that we would have to lean close to read it. I picture him carefully arranging a shelf, checking his notebook, and lifting his lantern to examine something everyone else has overlooked.

He likes knowing where things belong. He can worry when something important disappears. His careful habits and his generous heart sometimes pull him in different directions, which gives him plenty to learn alongside his friends.

When Miro asks why he keeps objects that are rusty or broken, Oliver gives her an answer that captures so much of who he is:

“A thing may seem small, but not to itself.”

That thought is at the heart of his character.

Most of us understand what it means to keep something whose value would be difficult to explain to a stranger. Perhaps it is an old photograph, a child’s drawing, a handwritten note, or a shell brought home from a particular day at the beach.

We remember who gave it to us. We remember the voice, the place, or the feeling attached to it. Something that fits in a drawer can hold a whole afternoon—or a relationship we will carry for the rest of our lives.

Oliver gives that familiar human feeling a home inside Moon Bay.

When I wrote his story, I wanted readers to notice the ordinary things that can carry those memories. I also wanted to make room for the way love and grief often live beside one another. Remembering someone can bring warmth and sadness into the same moment.

Oliver’s connection to Alden allows that part of the story to unfold gently. Alden carries memories of Mara, and Oliver’s care for small belongings becomes part of a much larger story about kindness and remembrance.

His friendship with Miro brings another kind of warmth to the lighthouse. She is curious about his collection and willing to help when he needs her. Together, they can follow a question farther than either might have managed alone.

In Oliver Wickett, Keeper of Lost Things, that question begins with a missing golden key.

For a mouse who takes such care of everyone else’s treasures, finding his own pocket empty is deeply unsettling. Miro joins the search, Juniper brings a possible clue, and the mystery leads them through lighthouse passages and out among the moonflowers.

As they search, they begin to consider what it means for something to be lost—and why someone else might need it.

I hope readers enjoy the little doors, the lantern light, and the shelves full of curious objects. I hope they also recognize something familiar in Oliver’s wish to keep precious things safe.

Children have treasures, too. A pebble, a drawing, or a worn little toy may carry a story that matters enormously to its owner. Taking that story seriously can be a small act of love.

That is part of what I wanted Oliver to bring to this world: someone willing to pause, look closely, and care.

His size gives him access to the lighthouse’s hidden corners. His thoughtfulness helps him notice what those corners hold. Whether he is carrying his lantern down a narrow passage or making room for one more treasure, he has work that matters to the people around him.

I am glad there is a place for him in Moon Bay.

If you could visit Oliver’s workshop, what small treasure would you bring—and what story would you want him to know?