This time, however, I knew I wasn’t the only one to see it, judging by the gasps and the clumsy dying off of the music. There was an intake of breath best described as similar in timing to an elementary school concert. Someone had left the door open and a kangaroo jumped into view and headed to the stage area, its half-curled tail thumping against the black-and-white-checkerboard floor. A minuscule head poked out of its pouch, a pair of tiny ears pricked up above its neat head. “Would now be the time to make your announcement?” I called out to Graham over the dying din of instruments and the silencing clatter of utensils against china. Graham sprinted past me in the direction of the kangaroo. Everyone else instinctively pulled back then a few brave souls surged forward brandishing forks and coffee mugs. Knowlton sprang from his booth and flapped a dessert menu at the springing animal. It pounced toward him and landed an assertive paw on the sweets offerings. I found myself wishing I could ask her for some tips in dealing with Knowlton.
