Chapter 3
Kendall
A knock at my door interrupts my fashion crisis. I open it to find Mrs. Parsons holding a casserole dish.
"I made Harold's favorite," she says, shuffling past me into my kitchen. "That nice police officer seemed hungry earlier."
"Mrs. Parsons, you shouldn't be—" I stop as she opens my refrigerator and starts rearranging things. "How did you even get up here?"
"Oh, the elevator. Such a nice young man helped me. Very tall. Said he was here about building security?"
My stomach drops. I grab my phone and check the building's security app. Sure enough, there's a code enforcement vehicle in the guest parking. So is the animal control vehicle. Shouldn't they have left by now?
"Mrs. Parsons, I need you to stay here for a minute, okay?"
"Of course, dear. I'll just tidy up. This place needs a woman's touch. Harold always says—"
I'm already out the door, barefoot again because apparently that's my thing now. The hallway stretches toward the elevator, and I can hear voices coming from the stairwell. Official voices using words like "violation" and "immediate compliance."
The elevator dings, and Jax steps out.
Not the code enforcement officer or animal control. Jax. In civilian clothes—jeans and a henley that does things to his shoulders that should be illegal.
"What are you doing here?" I demand.
"The code enforcement guy needed access to document the damage." He holds up a key ring. "The property management office was locked."
"You could have called."
"I did. Six times."
I check my phone. Between the viral video comments and Valerie's threats, I've missed dozens of calls. Six are from the police station.
"Also," he continues, "there's been another incident."
"Another—what kind of incident?"
"Gertie escaped from animal control."
"The goat escaped?"
"She's very resourceful. Apparently she can open gate latches." He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in that way that used to make me want to fix it. "She's somewhere in the building."
As if on cue, a scream echoes from two floors down, followed by what sounds distinctly like bleating.
"That sounded like Mrs. Patterson," I say.
"The rose lady?"
"She lives in 203. If Gertie's gotten into her apartment—"
We're both moving toward the stairs before I finish the sentence. I'm still barefoot; he's taking the stairs two at a time, and we're racing toward what will undoubtedly be another disaster.
"Why didn't animal control warn anyone?" I call out, trying to keep up.
"They're embarrassed. A goat outsmarted them."
"A goat outsmarted professionals?"
"To be fair, it's a very smart goat."
We burst onto the second floor to find Mrs. Patterson's door wide open. Inside, Gertie stands on the coffee table, calmly eating what looks like a very expensive orchid arrangement.
"MY ORCHIDS!" Mrs. Patterson wails. "Those are for the Garden Club competition!"
"I'll get the goat," Jax says.
"No, I'll get her. You'll scare her."
"I'm trained to control chaotic situations."
"She's a goat, not a criminal."
"Actually, at this point, she might be both."
Gertie looks at us, an orchid dangling from her mouth, and I swear she's smirking. Then she hops off the table and trots toward the open door.
"Block the exit!" I shout because apparently I haven't learned to close doors behind me when I'm in full goat pursuit.
Jax moves to close the door, but Gertie's already through his legs and into the hallway. We scramble after her, Mrs. Patterson following with a broom like she's going to beat us all.
"This is your fault!" she shouts at me. "You and your liberal pet policies!"
"We don't have liberal pet policies! We have a no-pet policy!"
Gertie's heading for the elevator, which is opening to reveal the code enforcement officer, clipboard in hand. His eyes widen as a goat charges toward him.
"Not again," he mutters, trying to sidestep.
But Gertie's not interested in the elevator. She veers left toward the maintenance access door, which someone has propped open with a bucket. She disappears through it.
"That leads to the pool mechanical room," I say.
Jax is already following. "Which connects to?"
"The storage area, the laundry facility, and—oh no."
"What?"
"The community room. Where the Garden Club is setting up for their luncheon."
We race through the mechanical room, dodging pool equipment and chemical storage. I can hear Gertie's hooves echoing ahead of us, and something that sounds like metal clanging.
"She knocked over the chlorine buckets!" Jax calls back. "Don't slip on the—"
Too late. My bare feet hit a wet patch and I'm sliding sideways. Jax catches my arm, pulling me against him to stop my fall. For a second, we're pressed together, his hand on my waist, my hand gripping his shirt, and I can feel his heart racing—or maybe that's mine.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice rougher than it should be.
"Fine," I manage, stepping back. "We should—"
A crash from ahead, followed by multiple screams.
"The Garden Club," we say in unison.
We burst into the community room to find chaos. Twenty women in pastel dresses are standing on chairs while Gertie explores yet another buffet table. She's wearing what appears to be someone's sun hat and has already destroyed the centerpiece.
"GET THAT BEAST OUT OF HERE!" Valerie screams from atop a particularly tall chair. "THIS IS THE LAST STRAW, GREENE!"
"I'm handling it," I say, moving slowly toward Gertie.
"You couldn't handle a tea party!" Valerie snaps. "This is exactly why you're unfit to manage these properties!"
"Hey," Jax says sharply. "She's doing her job."
"Her job is preventing this exact situation!"
"Her job is managing properties, not controlling livestock that technically belongs to a tenant."
"Ex-tenant! As of today, Mrs. Parsons is evicted!"
"You can't evict someone for having a therapy animal," I say, still creeping toward Gertie.
"That's not a therapy animal! That's a menace to society!"
Gertie, apparently offended by Valerie's tone again, abandons the buffet table and heads straight for her. Valerie shrieks and tries to climb higher on the chair, which starts to wobble.
"Valerie, don't—" I start.
The chair tips. Valerie falls. Jax lunges forward and catches her just before she hits the ground, which would be heroic except Valerie immediately starts hitting him with her purse.
"Unhand me! I'll sue everyone! The building! The police department! That goat!"
"Ma'am, please stop assaulting me," Jax says, setting her down and backing away.
Meanwhile, Gertie has found the exit door, which leads directly to the pool area where—I check my watch—another water aerobics class is just finishing.
"We have to stop her before—"
The door opens from the outside. Hudson Taylor walks in, holding Gertie's collar. The goat is calm, munching on what looks like Hudson's sandwich.
"Lose something?" he asks, grinning.
"Hudson!" I could kiss him. "How did you—"
"Kate saw the alert on Instagram. Figured you could use backup." He hands Gertie's lead to Jax. "She comes right to you if you have food, by the way."
"Now you tell us," Jax mutters.
"Where's animal control?" I ask.
"Parking lot, looking very embarrassed." Hudson surveys the destroyed community room. "Valerie giving you trouble?"
"I'm right here!" Valerie snaps. "And yes, I'm giving trouble! This woman is a disaster!"
"This woman," Hudson says calmly, "has managed these properties perfectly for three years. One weird morning doesn't erase that."
"The board will decide that tonight."
"The board should probably know about your vendetta against Ms. Greene," Jax says. "The multiple false complaints you've filed. The harassment."
"How dare you—"
"I'm just documenting everything thoroughly. For the official record."
Valerie's face turns purple. She grabs her purse and storms out, but not before pointing at me. "Five o'clock. Come prepared to be terminated."
A black Tesla pulls up to the curb. William Thornfield emerges, his silver hair gleaming in the morning sun. Unlike his wife's dramatic dishevelment, he's impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. "Valerie," he says, his voice carrying a subtle warning. "You're making a scene."
She deflates slightly. "William, this woman—"
"Is doing her job." His gaze shifts to me, cold and assessing. "Though perhaps not for much longer." He turns back to his wife. "Come. We have that meeting with the insurance adjusters."
As they walk away, I hear him mumble, "Really, Valerie. A goat? You're losing focus on what matters here."
The Garden Club ladies are climbing down from their chairs, chattering about the excitement. Mrs. Patterson is actually laughing.
"Most exciting luncheon we've had in years!" someone says. "Did someone get video?"
"I need to get Gertie back to animal control," Jax says. "And properly secured this time."
"I'll help," Hudson offers. "Kate's waiting in the car, anyway. She says hi, Kendall. And that you should come to dinner soon."
They head out with Gertie, who's now wearing someone's fascinator along with the sun hat. I'm left standing in the destroyed community room, barefoot and defeated... again.
My phone buzzes. It's Charli.
Charli: Emergency meeting at Bean & Bagel in 20. Bring wine.
Then another text, this one from an unknown number.
Unknown: Building 3 has a major plumbing issue. Need you here ASAP.
Then another.
Unknown: The pool chemical balance is off. Residents complaining about green water.
I check the time. Four hours until the board meeting. Three other properties to check. A destroyed community room to somehow clean. And I still haven't picked an outfit.
Mrs. Patterson approaches me. "Dear, that young policeman seemed very protective of you."
"He was just doing his job."
"Honey, that wasn't his job face. That was his 'I want to bend you over the nearest surface' face."
"Mrs. Patterson!"
"What? I'm old, not dead. And that boy's got it bad." She pats my arm. "Wear the red dress to the board meeting."
"I don't have a red dress."
"Then buy one. Trust me. Men are simple creatures. Show a little leg, smile sweetly, and watch them fumble all over themselves."
She heads off to help with cleanup, leaving me standing there processing her advice. My phone buzzes again—this time it's a photo from Hudson. It's Gertie in the back of the animal control van, still wearing her stolen accessories, looking pleased with herself.
The caption reads:
Hudson: Jax says to tell you he'll be at the meeting tonight. For moral support.
I stare at the text. Jax is coming to the board meeting. The meeting where I'll probably lose my job. The meeting where I'll have to face my complete professional failure.
And for some reason, knowing he'll be there makes it slightly less terrible.
My phone rings. It's the plumber at Building 3, and from the panic in his voice, the situation is getting worse. I grab someone's flip-flops from the pool lost-and-found bucket and head for my car.
The board meeting is in four hours. My career is in shambles. There's a goat wearing a fascinator somewhere in town.
But all I can think about is the way Jax's hand felt on my waist when he caught me.
I really need to review rule number three.