The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade (16 page)

A
t least there's one good thing about slow days. I certainly get a lot of knitting done.
Seated at the reception counter, Millie glanced at the empty chairs in the waiting rooms and snipped the yarn after the final stitch.

She smoothed the miniature cardigan out on the reception counter, admiring the even stitches along the trim. Little Abby was still young enough to be thrilled to receive a handmade sweater from Grandma. At this rate, she'd be able to crank out the matching doll sweater by the time she left work. She whipped out her cell phone and snapped a picture to send to her daughter-in-law up in Cincinnati.

The clinic door swung open and Lucy Cardwell exited, her dachshund draped long-ways along her arm. Susan followed, her typically severe features arranged into a pleasant expression.

“Just cut out the table scraps,” she was saying. “Toby's in good health, but his breed is prone to obesity. Now that the weather's turning, a long walk every night will do him wonders.”

“Won't hurt Leonard any either.” Lucy smiled brightly at Millie. “His spine is fine. I've just got to teach him to stay out from under people's feet.” She pulled out her checkbook. “Now, how much do I owe you?”

Susan handed the chart to Millie, who tapped the procedure code into the computer and read the total to Lucy.

“Goodness, is that all?” She smiled at Susan as she scribbled out the check one-handed. “You spent a long time with us and did such a thorough examination.”

“He didn't require any X-rays or medications, thank goodness.” Susan ran a gentle hand over Toby's head, and then reached into the cookie jar to feed the dog a treat. Toby gulped it down without chewing, which resulted in one of the veterinarian's rare smiles. “Bring him back in a few months, when he's due for his shots.”

“I definitely will.”

Lucy handed the check to Millie along with a conspiratorial smile. A few phone calls to Millie's friends had brought in a trickle of clients. Bless Lucy for fabricating the story about Toby scrambling under someone's feet and being kicked. Millie had no doubt she would spread the word of Dr. Susan's competence and her caring manner.

With a final wave, Lucy exited and Millie unlocked the cash drawer. “That seemed to go well.”

“It did.” Susan cocked her head with a puzzled expression. “That's the second 'emergency' visit today, and both turned out to be nothing.”

“Don't look a gift horse in the mouth,” Millie quoted in a Violet-worthy saying as she placed the check in the drawer.

The front door opened a crack. A small head appeared, and a wide-eyed gaze circled the room. It skittered over Millie and rested on Susan.

“Hello,” Susan said in an encouraging tone. “Can we help you with something?”

The child looked vaguely familiar. One of the Wainright brood, perhaps? There were so many she couldn't keep them straight, all except Fern who had made the family name infamous. This one certainly had their look, with her tousled brown hair and heart-shaped face.

The girl regarded Susan silently for a long moment before slipping her body through the crack. A slight little thing, with stick-like legs and boney arms extending from a short-sleeved dress that was entirely inadequate for this chilly spring day. Her hair could stand a
good brushing, and judging by the dirt showing in the cracks of her knees, she would benefit from a long soak in a bathtub. Something in her unkempt appearance softened Millie's heart. She glanced through the window, looking for a car. Surely this child hadn't come alone? Why, she barely looked old enough to go to school.

In her hands she carried a blue plastic box with a vented top. “Otis is sick.”

Susan regarded the child seriously. “Well, that's not good. Would you like me to take a look at him?” The wide-set eyes narrowed, and she continued. “I'm Dr. Susan, the new veterinarian.”

Giving a tentative nod, the girl shifted the box to one arm and removed the lid with the other. Susan stepped forward to look inside. Millie craned her neck, but couldn't see what manner of pet Otis was.

“Hmm. I'll need to conduct a thorough examination.” She straightened. “Millie, will you please create a new patient file for Otis and…” She looked back at the girl. “What's your name?”

“Willow Wainright.” The girl's reply confirmed Millie's suspicions. Worried creases appeared above finely-shaped eyebrows. “How much will it cost?”

Susan folded an arm across her middle and propped her other elbow on it, tapping at her lips thoughtfully with a forefinger. “Have you been here before, Willow?” The child shook her head. “Then you're in luck. Normally the exam is thirty-five dollars, but because I'm new to town we're running an introductory special. The first exam for a new patient is free.”

And without even consulting Daddy. Good for you.

Willow's eyes widened, and relief cleared her brow.

“Of course, if any medication is required, you'll have to pay for that. But we can negotiate terms, if necessary.”

Millie held back a smile at the girl's serious expression as she nodded and followed Susan toward the exam rooms. Her estimation of her new boss rose considerably. Susan's manner toward Willow was perfect, completely professional and without a hint of condescension.
When she told everyone about this, the vet would gain brownie points for sure.

Susan opened the clinic door and directed Willow to take Otis to exam room one, then spoke to Millie in a low voice.

“Quick. Do a quick Google search for anything you can find about caring for hermit crabs.”

“You bet. Is this your first crab?”

Susan nodded.

“Well, I'm sure it won't be your last crabby patient.” Chuckling at her own joke, Millie pulled the keyboard toward her while Susan followed Willow. She found a website called Basic Crab Care and printed off several pages, which she delivered to exam room one. When she returned to the counter, the phone began to ring.

“Goose Creek Animal Clinic.”

“Millie?”

Hear heart leapt when she recognized the voice. “Louise! Tell me you have good news.”

“I do, actually. I've had a request to show your house this evening at six o'clock.”

Millie glanced at the wall clock. Ten after three. That gave her just under three hours to get ready.

“That's great,” she told the realtor. “I'll be ready.”

“You know you can't be there, right? And turn on all the lights, and—”

“I've done my research,” she assured Louise. “I know how to make the house bright and cheery and welcoming. How long should we plan to stay away?”

“Oh, half an hour or so. Of course if you come home and see a car in the driveway, just keep driving.”

“Of course.”

Which scent should she burn? Cinnamon Cider, maybe? No, cinnamon gave some people a headache. Something peaceful and homey, like Sugar Cookie. It contained a hint of vanilla, which was universally appealing. Definitely Sugar Cookie.

Louise was still talking. “—not discouraged. After all, the Forsythe property is really a fluke. Things like that don't happen very often.”

Millie straightened to attention. “Things like what? What happened to the Forsythe property?”

A pause. “I assumed you'd know, since you work for Dr. Forsythe.”

“I haven't talked to him since he went on vacation. What about their house?”

“It's sold. Their agent told me this morning. They received an offer yesterday and accepted it last night.”

A sense of injustice welled up inside Millie. Her fingers clutched the edge of the desk, nails folding against the hard surface. Her house had been on the market for ten whole days, and tonight was the first time anyone had even requested to see it. Doc and Lizzie listed theirs three days ago on their way out of town and they'd already accepted an offer?

“Don't be upset, Millie.” Louise's voice took on a soothing tone. “Theirs was an unusual situation. The buyer is someone they knew from one of Dr. Forsythe's professional organizations. He apparently sent out an e-mail to his contact list, and it paid off.”

An e-mail. Why hadn't she thought of that? Not that she knew many people outside of Goose Creek, and all of those already knew her house was up for sale. She didn't belong to professional organizations like Doc.

She forced an even tone. “I'm happy for them. We'll keep our fingers crossed for tonight's showing.”

“That's right. I'll let you know how it goes.”

“Talk to you later.” Millie pressed the button to disconnect the call, and then released it to dial Albert's office number. The call rang and rang, her irritation mounting. Just when she expected to hear her husband's voicemail recording, an entirely different voice answered.

“Heeeeeeeellllllo, Richardson's desk. Franklin Thacker speaking.”

The tone was upbeat and cheerful, the words delivered in a sing-song tone that brought an answering smile to her face. The man's name sounded familiar, but she didn't think they'd ever met.

“This is Millie Richardson. Albert's wife.”

“Mrs. R!” Franklin's exclamation was one of utter delight. “I'd started to think Bert was making you up.”

“Bert?”

“An inside joke.” His hee-haw ended in a snort. “Your hubby's away from his office. Headed to the men's room a few minutes ago. I expect he'll be a while, since he was carrying a copy of the
Wall Street Journal
.” Another chuckle and snort. “What can I do for you?”

“Could you pass along a message, please?” While she talked, she fished her appointment calendar out of her purse and clicked open a pen. She intended to keep a record of the showings. “Tell him someone's coming to look at the house tonight at six o'clock, so he can't come home.”

“All righty, then. Writing now.
Bert, the Mrs. says do not come home tonight.
” This time the laughter could only be described as a guffaw. “Just kidding, Mrs. R. I'll give him the scoop. Showing your house, huh? That mean you're selling it?”

“Albert hasn't mentioned it?” Irritated, she clenched her fists. She didn't have many contacts outside of their community, but Albert did. The least he could do was let people know. “Yes, our house has been on the market for over a week. We hope to buy a lovely old Victorian-era home here in Goose Creek.” No need to mention the B&B plans.

“Goose Creek, huh? Nice little town. The missus and I come to the Fall Festival every year.”

“It's our big event,” she said. “Well, if you know of anyone looking for a beautiful three bedroom two bathroom house, be sure to let them know.”

“I'll do it,” he promised. “What time is Bert allowed to come home?”

Bert. Albert must think a lot of Franklin to allow him the use of a nickname. Odd that he never mentioned the man.

“I don't really know.” Millie tapped the pen on the desk. “On second thought, tell him to come at the regular time, but meet me at
the Whistlestop. I'll treat him to dinner out.” That would put him in a good mood, since the chicken and dumplings at the Whistlestop Diner were his favorite.

“Whistlestop it is.” He chuckled again. The man certainly laughed a lot. Actually, that annoying snort would probably get on her nerves after a while, which was unkind of her.

“Thank you, Franklin. I hope we can meet sometime.”

“That would be my pleasure, Mrs. R.”

She'd just hung up the phone when Susan and Willow returned to the reception area.

“Come back tomorrow and I'll have that saltwater all ready for you. I'm sure that will perk Otis right up.”

Willow clutched the plastic box to her chest. “I didn't know he needed saltwater. It's a good thing I came, huh?”

“It is, indeed. I'll see you tomorrow.” She let the child out, and then collapsed against the door. “Whew. Thanks for the quick research. I hated to tell that little girl I'd never treated a hermit crab. I just hope the saltwater does the trick.”

“Saltwater?”

Susan nodded. “Once I looked at the pages you printed, I remembered reading about it in one of my earlier classes. You're supposed to keep a sponge saturated with saltwater and the temp in the low seventies. That gives the crabitat a tropical-like atmosphere.”

Millie's lips twitched. “The crabitat, huh? Sounds like a good name for Albert when he gets in one of his complaining moods.” She straightened. “I hate to ask, but would it be all right if I leave a little early? We've got someone coming to look at the house tonight, and I want to tidy up a bit.”

“Of course.” Susan waved a hand toward the empty waiting rooms. “I think I can handle the crowd.”

“At least we've had fewer cancellations today. And even some new appointments.”

“That's true.” She heaved herself away from the door and headed
for the back. When she reached the corner of the reception desk, she paused, her gaze averted. “I know you've been making calls on my behalf. Thank you.”