“Don’t say that. You make it sound worse than it is.”
“But its leg is gone. And it’s all twisted.”
Daniel Parkins cringed and rubbed at the bruise forming on his shin. “C’mon, it can’t be as bad as all that!” He crawled over the fallen ladder and shouldered his way into the group of murmuring groundskeepers. “Where is it?”
Kyle scooted over to make room and pointed down at a tuft of carefully manicured moss. Glimmers of silver and the slight shimmer of iridescence flickered beneath the thin carpet of greenery. “Face it, Danny. You flattened it.”
One look was enough to tell Kyle was right. The peacock was barely visible. The force of the blow had driven the tiny bird several inches into the ground.
“It’s embedded in the dirt,” someone muttered.
Danny heard a snicker. “Like a nail hit by a hammer.”
A second snicker answered the first from somewhere off to his left. “More like a thumbtack whacked by an anvil.”
“Stop it. It’s not funny.” Kyle reached forward and smoothed the moss away so they could get a better view. “These birds aren’t easy to replace.”
“Aren’t we out of them already?”
“Why is it always the peacocks? It’s like they’re cursed. Nothing else ever gets damaged.”
“That’s not true. Jimmy squashed an apple tree a few months ago.”
“Really? I didn’t hear tha—”
Daniel ignored his coworkers’ discussion. He felt awful. “Oh, man.” He carefully pulled the mangled, metal bird out of the squishy moss and brushed the dirt off it. The twisted peacock glinted dully in his hand. Scratches marred the iridescent enamel coating its feathers, and one of its legs was bent sideways, poking out at an appalling angle. He could see the other leg sticking out of the moss, still attached to its base. It was almost a foot away from the impression he’d pulled the bird’s body from.
The peacock’s metal eye stared reproachfully up at him, and Daniel closed his fingers over it. He cringed. He could feel a kink in the slender neck.
“I suppose there’s no reattaching this,” Daniel groaned.
Kyle sighed. “Not unless you’ve been hiding mad metalworking skills from me.”
Daniel shook his head. “I wish.” He climbed to his feet. “I better report it.”
“You going back to the house?” someone asked.
Daniel Parkins slipped the peacock into his pocket and nodded. “Yeah. I want to apologize in person.”
“You should get some ice while you’re at it. That was a bad fall.”
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Daniel. He grinned sheepishly and waved his concerned coworkers off as he headed for the supply carts. “If I’m not back in an hour, send a rescue posse. Until then, keep up the good work.”
“Wait.” Kyle had jumped the fallen ladder and was picking his way through the beds of undamaged miniatures, following him. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, that’s all right. I’ll be fine.”
“But it was partially my fault.”
Stopping his friend, Daniel clapped Kyle on the shoulder and climbed into a cart. “Don’t worry. I can handle Jeremy. Besides, they need your ‘mad masonry’ skills to replace the stone properly.”
Kyle frowned reluctantly. “Are you sure?”
Daniel laughed and switched the cart on. “I can handle the Zingers. Really, it’s no big deal. I’m more likely to get chewed out for being careless than for damaging the fountain. That’s the sort of people they are.”
Still looking unconvinced, Kyle stepped away and let Daniel back the cart onto the path. “All right. But if you need anything, call. I’ll give my side of the story.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Daniel turned the cart around and headed for the forest that lay between the worksite and the main house. Kyle waved after it. “Good luck!”
With the broken peacock lying heavily in his pocket, Daniel forced an unconcerned smile and waved back. Then he sighed and turned his attention to navigating the twisting pathways.