Not that she wasn’t, but... Two deep breaths later, she managed to croak out, “Mr. Rittenhouse, are you aware I’ve not been in contact with Aquila for years?”
“Yes, Jasper told me.”
Katie all but collapsed against a wall and tried to ignore the students hurrying down the hall. She could have been one of them, if not for her life experiences and responsibilities.
“Jasper’s with you?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
The man had to be nearing eighty. He’d been like a grandfather to her once, and yet Katie had never looked into how he was doing after her father died. He and Bob had worked together for almost thirty years.
Guilt tapped her on the shoulder again.
“It was Jasper who suggested I call you before I called my lawyer,” Luke said. “He’s sure that Aquila would remember you and pull through.”
Pulling together every ounce of stamina she could manage, Katie said, “Mr. Rittenhouse, wild animals aren’t supposed to pine for people. Besides, I don’t think you realize what you’re asking. Last time I worked with Aquila, I was a kid. I’m a different person now.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t know if he was agreeing with her or encouraging her to go on. No matter, Katie had a feeling the man on the other end of the phone didn’t think much of the different person she’d become.
“Mr. Rittenhouse, the animal kingdom is no longer my world. I have no desire to work with animals again....”
She didn’t mention she also had no desire to sacrifice her job, schooling or endanger herself or her family. She didn’t say any of these things because if he worked with animals, he was a showman, and he accepted the sacrifices and ignored the risks.
“Lady, I don’t have the time or willingness to play games. I’ve gone over the sales agreement for Bob’s Backyard Animal Kingdom, and I’m real comfortable with my rights. You either show up here within twenty-four hours to help with Aquila, or my lawyer will begin proceedings to enforce the reversal clause.”
“Twenty-four hours? I’ve already told you, I have a job. I have a home. I have a little sister to take care of.”
“Just give me two weeks. Bring your sister along if you have to. Help me with Aquila. Then you can go back to whatever you’re doing now. Two weeks. Jasper said you could do it. See you in twenty-four hours.” He hung up.
Katie stared openmouthed at her cell phone until the silence of the hallway caught her attention. Thursday-morning classes had started and students were either cocooned safe inside their rooms or were already in the student union or out in the parking lot. As an interpreter for the deaf, she belonged in statistics class with her student, and no doubt both student and instructor were growing concerned. Her student, all of nineteen and extremely bright, could read lips, but this particular instructor spoke English with a heavy accent. More than once Katie had signed, “One hungry student” when the instructor had really said, “One hundred students.” The instructor also tended to speak louder whenever he looked at the deaf student, which made the class giggle.
Katie didn’t like the man.
Well, this might be her last day in Mr. Hungry Student’s class. Luke Rittenhouse had backed her into a corner. And since she’d already gotten in trouble for breaking the “Thou Shalt Not Let Thy Cell Phone Ring During Class” rule, it looked like the perfect time for a change.
Too bad Katie didn’t want one.
* * *
LUKE HUNG UP the phone and walked to the far wall of his office where a dry-erase board displayed his five-goals-in-five-years plan. Standing in front of it, he reminded himself that people who didn’t take risks were often people who stood still. Bridget’s had stood still for way too long. His job was to change things for the better.
NEW ACQUISITIONS was number five on his list, and the only one with a check mark next to it.
That had been his risk, the one that kept him awake at night worrying.
The purchase was supposed to be a step forward, but it ultimately might be the undoing of the four items above it: EMPLOYEE SALARIES AND BENEFITS, GENERAL OPERATIONS, FACILITIES MAINTENANCE AND CAPITAL RENEWAL. He’d chosen the order of importance. And he’d been the one to act on the dead-last goal first.
He moved to the window and watched as the day-to-day operations of Bridget’s AZ Animal Adventure carried on.
At the front of Bridget’s, his friend Adam was painting the grand entrance. It was an ongoing work that might never be finished.
He’d met Adam fifteen years ago in a taekwondo studio. Adam, aged ten at the time, took lessons with his twin brother who’d been born disabled. Luke, then a junior in high school, did his homework while his sister Bridget had a lesson.
Adam quit lessons and soon was asking Luke for help with math. Seemed he’d doodled during every math class and was now behind. They’d been friends ever since.
Five years ago, Luke asked for a favor in return.
Even at twenty-five, Adam was still a kid—a kid without a high school diploma, but a kid who could replicate anything he put his mind to. Luke needed his talent and his perspective to design child-friendly attractions. And now thanks to Adam, the entrance of Bridget’s had cutouts of animals where kids could stick their heads in holes and become the animals. There were places where children looked in a mirror and suddenly their head appeared above a pirate, or a cowboy. Scattered among activities were animal information charts with lots and lots of pictures. And, of course, soon there would be places to buy souvenirs and snacks even before they walked under the giant Bridget’s AZ Animal Adventure sign.
His little sister would have loved it.
For her, Luke’s goal was to put Scorpion Ridge on the map and make Bridget’s a success. Sure, it was a little off the beaten path, but with an orangutan that read the newspaper and took afternoon tea, an anaconda that weighed over a hundred pounds and a black panther that danced to Cindi Lauper, the number of people willing to drive a ways and spend money could quadruple.
It just needed to quadruple really soon.
As if sensing his owner’s unhappiness, Tinker chose that moment to jump off the desk, meander over and plop down on Luke’s foot to meow.
“I’m all right,” Luke said, bending down and scooping up the full-grown, long-haired, black-and-white cat that was roughly the same size as his shoe. The zoo vet, Fred, said malnutrition had stunted the cat’s growth. Luke figured the cat truly liked his compact size; the beast could fit anywhere.
Setting the feline back on his desk—there was already enough cat hair on his clothing to stuff a pillow—Luke picked up his cell phone and called his most treasured coworker. Ruth Moore was almost sixty, weighed two hundred pounds, always wore a pair of reading glasses that matched her outfit and for years had run the place.
Before Luke had turned it into Bridget’s, the property had been managed by his uncle Albert, and consisted of nothing more than a roadside petting zoo with a few exotics. And Ruth.
Ruth was straightforward, liked all animals and most people, and Luke couldn’t get along without her. He’d known her all his life, and she’d been the one who’d suggested him for the job of director. She did whatever he asked without question. And, best of all, if he didn’t ask, she figured out something to do.
She knew everyone in the animal world and definitely knew more than he did about Bridget’s. She was his go-to person.
“I’m behind the scenes with my lion,” Ruth yelled over the radio. Nothing Luke said could convince her he could hear her without the yelling. “Terrance the Terrible is yawning on command and getting his teeth brushed. We need to film this.”
Ever since