Page 38 of I Knew He Was Trouble
She’s grinning at me like this is the most entertaining thing she’s heard all week. “And management askedyouto march them out of the building this time?”
“Yeah, once they found out I was a dog walker, I guess they assumed I should do it since Iwork with animals.”
She laughs. “I can’t wait to see this.” With a glance at her phone, her smile drops. “Oh, sugar.” Yes, Shayna’s so sweet that the closest she gets to cursing is sayingsugar. “I have to return to the shop so Shirley can make it in time for her book club. You have to tell me the play-by-play in elaborate detail when you get home.”
“I will. Will you be okay getting everything to your car?”
“Yeah.” She waves me on. “Go help the ducklings, you little animal hero.”
“I expect a cape when I get home,” I call over my shoulder. Shayna’s laughter follows me into the hallway.
When I reach the courtyard, a crowd of residents and staff are waiting like spectators for a grand sporting event rather than marching ducks through the building.
“There’s the woman of the hour.” Kevin ushers me toward the ducks.
Here goes nothing.
I kneel in front of them. Even though I researched ducks, the internet didn’t have much help to offer in terms of how to escort ducks through a building without incident, so I’m just spitballing here. “Come on, little duckies. Time to cross the proverbial road and enjoy all the pond life offers.”
I turn and walk toward the sliding glass doors to enter the building, hoping with everything in me that the mama duck is following. As long as she follows me, her babies are sure to follow behind.
I glance over my shoulder and grin. The mama duck is waddling behind me, her ducklings trailing behind her.
Kevin shoots me a thumbs up as I walk past him before swiping his badge to open the doors. We enter the building with ease. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I don’t know where exactly I’d put it, but I feel like this deserves to be on my resume.
Little Animal Hero. Escorted a mama duck and her eight ducklings through a building to find their place in this world.
It seems like an important thing any future employers should know about. Although, hopefully, I won’t have any more future employers if my plan for opening my own dog rescue goes according—
The flapping of wings causes me to duck and cover my head. I look to the left and watch as the mama duck abandons her babies and flies around the lobby, causing mayhem among all the residents simply trying to enjoy their Thursday afternoon.
I turn to Kevin, adrenaline coursing through my body. “Will you watch the ducklings? I’ll go fix that situation.” I gesture toward where the duck went.
“Of course,” he says, though his face pales. Kevin gets on the ground, cooing at the ducklings. I know he needs help, but I have a much larger issue at hand.
I run through the seating area in the lobby where I last saw the duck go. When I pass Hank, who earlier asked if we were making funeral arrangements rather than flower ones, he sputters. “Was that a duck?”
I nod and skid to a stop. “Did you see where it went?”
He tsks and points to the hallway beside us. “Just when you think you’ve seen everything. Now people have ducks as pets.”
“Thanks,” I say, already running down the hall. A scream sounds from my right, and my heart rate picks up when I realize it came from Darla’s room.
“D, are you okay?” I call out, running into her open door without waiting for a response.
The duck is in the air, its wings flapping against the window like it is trying to escape before it flies back toward me and out the door. Darla sits on her couch with popcorn all around her, clutching her chest, which is rising and falling in rapid succession. I rush over to her, placing my hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay? Do you think you’re having a heart attack?”
She reaches up and pats my hand. “I—I’m okay.”
Relief floods my body. “Great, give me a few minutes.”
I run back into the hall, where residents point toward the lobby with gaping mouths. When I’m back in the seating area, I quickly spot the duck. Thankfully, she’s back on the ground, waddling back toward her ducklings as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Kevin and I usher her and her babies out the next set of double doors with arms spread wide.
I stand back, watching with bated breath, until the doors slide shut. Only when they’re closed do I allow my guard to fall. Kevin is slack-jawed when I turn to face him.
“She’s never left her ducklings before. That’s unusual behavior for a mama duck, but no one was harmed, right?”
