“Hold your horses, Bill!” Myra called back through the bullhorn.
A chuckle spread through the crowd. Then Myra was there, handing me the bullhorn.
“Thank you for coming out.” The bullhorn cast my voice across this block and the next. “This impromptu penguin flash mob is only going to be available for a week. Tell your friends.”
I decided it wouldn’t hurt to earn a few points with Bertie while I had so many people’s attention.
“As a reminder, the High Tea Tide event is Saturday only. Find out more about it by going online, or by checking with local shops. The event will feature tea, coffee, desserts, and delicacies from the finest vendors inside and outside Ordinary. I can also confirm there will be a petting zoo for the kids in the parking lot behind Sweet Reflections candy shop.”
“And now, may I draw your attention to Ordinary’s one and only concrete star: Mrs. Yates’s penguin!”
I started clapping. Everyone else quickly followed.
Mrs. Yates walked out like this was a parade, giving the one-handed float wave while lifting the penguin to show it off.
The crowd ate it up, whistling and shouting.
She strolled through the statues, patting a head here, lowering the “real” penguin down so two statues could see eye-to-eye, making the “real” penguin kiss the fake one. Then, with a practiced bow, she plunked that bird down on the pedestal in the middle of the yard, dead center, without even a wobble.
From her purse, she produced an adorable little bumble bee antenna hat and placed it on the penguin’s head.
A little kid yelled “Bee!” and everyone laughed.
Then Mrs. Yates did something I didn’t expect. She shouted: “Free Bee Bobbles for the children!” She pulled a fistful of headbands, with bobbing antennas, out of her purse.
Smart. And cute. Maybe even cute enough to get into the bigger papers in the Valley. Definitely cute enough to get her on Bertie’s web page.
Myra nudged my arm. “Louder.”
I lifted the bullhorn. “Free bee hats for the kids while supplies last, and free pictures with Ordinary’s most extra-ordinary penguin.”
The crowd clapped, then shifted and shuffled toward the pedestal. Myra took the horn and got them all lined up for the photo op.
I hadn’t seen it before, but the penguins were arranged to make a clear path to the pedestal and to create a sort of natural space in front of it for photos.
I’d known Crow all my life. I knew how he apologized. It wasn’t with a cute card or, heavens forbid, actual words.
No, Crow said he was sorry with action.
It wasn’t always an action you wanted or needed in your life, but hedidsomething to apologize when he’d been wrong.
This was his apology to Mrs. Yates. This was him saying he was sorry he stole her limelight (although I doubted he was sorry he’d gotten some of the spotlight himself).
He was giving her back something photo worthy. Something newsworthy.
My phone vibrated.
You’re welcome too.
Crow.
I looked around for him, out in the crowd. I saw an arm raise, a hand open my way, and then a flash of a smile as my almost-uncle hopped down from the hood of someone’s car and sauntered off, disappearing into the crowd.
I texted:Perky Perk. Now.
Can’t. Busy.
I’ll close down the Nest. Fumigation. Terrible cockroach problem.
