The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade (25 page)

“The Council?” Hazel's voice held equal amounts of derision and defiance.

The mayor held her gaze steadily. “Yes, the people duly elected to provide leadership and direction for Goose Creek. Some of whom are huddled in their homes right now, afraid to come out in public and face their fellow residents. Half-afraid to send their children to school because of the taunts they've experienced in the past few days.” His tone turned bitter. “If that was your aim, then you've succeeded.”

The militant expression on Hazel's face faded, and Al spied more than a few lowered heads.

“So you said you's gonna be fair.” Norman squinted up at the man. “'At mean Little Norm's gonna get the job?”

A heavy silence descended on both sides of the street. Breaths were held collectively.

Selbo answered without flinching. “It means Little Norm's bid will be evaluated the same as everyone else's. If the Council decides his is the most effective use of taxpayer money, he will get the job.”

“That's fair,” shouted Pete from somewhere behind Al.

Several heads across the street turned to glare, but others appeared uncertain.

Norman glowered, clearly not convinced of his son's chances. Little Norm returned to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Though he spoke quietly, Al had no trouble hearing him. “C'mon, Pa. Let's go home. I might need your help with that bid.”

Apparently unconvinced, Norman stood his ground and indulged in a stare-off with the mayor.

“I'll help too,” announced Hazel, and several heads nodded.

Others sidled away as the crowd began to disburse. Junior slipped away, and even bent to scoop up a handful of discarded leaflets on his way. Soon only a few people stood behind Norman.

“I still say you'uns ain't worth a hill a beans, and if 'n you brings an outsider in here, you'll be sorry.”

Sheriff Grimes folded his arms across his chest. “Are you threatening a public official, sir?”

The little man didn't have a chance to answer. Little Norm physically pulled his father back and, perhaps sensing he'd crossed a line, Norman went willingly. The few protesters who stood behind him parted to let the pair pass.

“Well, that was fun.” Thacker clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. “Now, how about that lunch, Bert?”

Al discovered that he could reply, quite truthfully, that he had entirely lost his appetite.

Chapter Sixteen
 

M
illie could hardly wait to get to work on Monday morning.

“So, how did it go?” she asked as she bustled through the front door.

Susan turned from straightening the dozen or so magazines on the wall rack in the Kuddly Kitties room. “The blood tests all look normal, and the cultures are negative. But I have a shampoo I'd like you to try.”

Millie paused in the act of sliding a tray of cookies onto the reception counter. She blinked, momentarily at a loss. Then she realized.

“Not Rufus. I meant with Justin.”

“Oh.” The girl turned away and adjusted the top rack again. “Fine. He seems like a nice guy.”

Her sudden nonchalance could have a couple of meanings. Had they not hit it off as well as expected? When Millie and Al picked up Rufus on the way home Saturday things seemed to be going very well between the two of them, with enough sparks flying that even Al, who was typically clueless, noticed them. That meant either Justin had not asked her out and Susan was fretting, or he had asked and she wanted the date to remain private.

Not deterred by the latter reason, Millie adopted her best I'm-a-friendly-ear-tell-me-everything manner. “So are you planning to see him again?”

“No.” The answer came quickly. “He asked me to dinner on Tuesday, but I said no.”

“Why on earth did you do that?”

A flush arose on the girl's cheeks, and for a moment Millie thought she'd overstepped a boundary. But then Susan answered.

“I said yes initially, but then I talked it over with Daddy. We agreed that this isn't a good time for me to date. I've just opened a business.” Her hands indicated the room. “It'll take all my attention if it's going to succeed. Beginning a relationship right now would be a distraction. So I texted Justin yesterday and told him I couldn't go.”

Her eyes didn't quite meet Millie's, which said a lot. Millie set her teeth and swallowed an unflattering observation about apron strings and when they should be cut. Instead she managed to utter, “I see.”

Susan flashed her a quick look. “He's totally right. I agree with him completely. And besides, I do my laundry on Tuesdays.”

With difficulty, Millie maintained a blank expression. Mind grasping for a response that wouldn't get her fired on the spot, she grabbed the tray and held it aloft. “Look what I brought. Chewy chocolate cookies.”

The veterinarian's face lit, either because of the cookies or in relief for an end to the uncomfortable conversation. She inspected the goodies eagerly. “Can I have one?”

“Take several,” Millie advised. “They won't last long once the day's appointments start arriving.”

A sour expression settled on Susan's face. “If we have any at all after Saturday's fiasco.”

“Oh, I think we will. You certainly got a personal introduction to the entire town. And you know what they say. No advertising is bad advertising.”

“I hope you're right.” Susan bit into a cookie and closed her eyes in pure enjoyment. “Oh, these are heavenly. Maybe I'll take a couple into the back, in case you're right.”

She loaded her hands and, with a grateful smile, headed for her office. The door had not even finished swinging before Millie snatched up her purse to fish for Justin's phone number.

“It's a bad decision, Millie.” Al pitched his voice low as he spoke into the phone. No doubt Thacker sat on the other side of the cubicle wall straining to hear. He swiveled his chair to face the opposite direction. “Nobody in their right mind would pay for work on a house that isn't theirs.”

“But it
will
be ours soon. The closing date is just over three weeks away, and we'll need to move in that weekend.”

Al shut his eyes at the reminder. Another argument he'd lost. Who knew Thacker would have enough cash to pay for the house without a mortgage and insist on moving quickly? His efforts to stall the closing date had failed in the face of Millie's steely enthusiasm.

“If we wait to fix the roof until after the closing,” Millie said, “we'll have to put all our stuff in storage and rent an apartment. We might even have to sign a lease. It makes much more sense to move directly into the Manor and save that money.”

“The Manor?”

She gave a self-conscious laugh. “Well, we have to call it something.”

Swallowing a comment about settling such a grand name on an ancient money pit, he replied instead, “But what if the deal falls through? We can't afford to lose that kind of money.”

“Louise and I talked about that. She's going to contact the Updykes and ask if they'll agree to reimburse us if that happens.”

She's thought of everything.
He slumped in his chair. “All right. If they say yes, then I guess we can go ahead with it. Call Hinkle and see when he can get started.”

“I did. He's coming tomorrow to take measurements and pick up a check for the deposit. Oh, here comes a patient. Gotta run. Love you.”

Al sat holding the dead receiver. This morning he'd begun the process of withdrawing money from his investments. When he pressed the Enter key, a sick flutter erupted in his stomach. Now that flutter morphed into a somersaulting heave. This was real. There was no
stopping the sale now. He felt like he'd been strapped to the front of a steam engine, and his beloved wife was shoveling coal into the boiler as fast as she could.

Thacker's head popped up above the cubicle wall. “Speaking of roofs, how old is the one on my new house?”

If the phone receiver had been made of glass, it would have shattered in Al's hand.

To Susan's relief, Millie's prediction proved true. Tuesday was the busiest day since Doc left for Florida. Not a single cancellation, and three people called to ask if she had time to squeeze their animals in. Plus four new patients made appointments for later in the week.

Maybe Daddy and I won't go bankrupt after all.

She scribbled the diagnosis code on Precious's chart and handed the paper to the Maltese's owner. “Here you are, Mrs. Easterly. Give that to Millie, and ask her to schedule a follow-up appointment for next week.” She stroked the dog's silky fur. “I think Precious's eye infection will clear up by then, but I want to make sure.”

“Thank you, Dr. Susan.”

The woman gathered the little dog into her arms while Susan held the door open. She stopped in the doorway, a grin creeping onto her face.

“I was in town on Saturday, you know.”

Susan bit back a groan.
Was there anyone in Goose Creek who
wasn't
there?
“Oh?”

“You sure can run.” The grin widened. “I'll bet you were a runner in college, weren't you?”

“High school,” she said for the fifth time that day. “400 meter relay.”

“I knew it!” She nuzzled Precious. “You won't be outrunning Dr. Susan, you slow thing.”

Susan followed them down the short hall and swung open the
door to the reception area. Mrs. Easterly passed through, explaining to Precious how she couldn't possibly be expected to catch the birds she loved to chase because her legs were too short. Susan opened her mouth to say goodbye, and then glimpsed the man standing in front of Millie's desk. Her jaw dangled, words frozen in her throat.

Justin caught sight of her, and his eyes erupted with sparkles. “Susan.”

How did he manage to make her name sound exotic and glamorous? Even more curious, why did she long to hear him say it again, and again?

Swallowing against a dry throat, she managed to reply in a reasonably calm tone. “What are you doing here?”

Mrs. Easterly turned a surprised glance toward her, and Millie, seated behind the reception counter, arched her eyebrows. Obviously, her tone wasn't as calm as she thought.