The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade (19 page)

Al rubbed the stinging place where her fingernail had poked his skin. An unfair accusation. His motives—to maintain marital peace and harmony—were pure. He opened his mouth to say so.

Then he closed it again. Were his motives truly unselfish? He'd specified conditions he never thought would be met. His aim had been to appease his wife, true, but without any real intention to sacrifice his own plans. An uncomfortable feeling set him fidgeting in his chair. He'd manipulated a solution that would put him in a favorable light in Millie's eyes, but without expecting to go through with his end of the bargain.

“There's something else you may want to consider.” Louise broke into his uncomfortable thoughts. “My contract with you outlines specific conditions for the sale of this house. I've delivered an offer that meets those conditions. If you reject it, you're obligated to compensate me at the rate we agreed on.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Business is business.”

His gaze volleyed between the two of them. From the beginning they'd joined sides against him.

And
, he realized as his heart sank to the vicinity of his shoes,
they've won.

A promise was a promise, after all. Especially a promise to his wife.

Utterly defeated, he bowed his head. “Where do I sign?”

Chapter Thirteen

M
onday morning arrived with a sky full of sunshine and a future bright with promise. Millie hummed a hymn from yesterday's service as she stowed her purse in the file cabinet and turned toward the computer, a bulging baggie of cookies in her hand.

Susan emerged from the back room and greeted her with her usual solemn, “Good morning.” Then she caught sight of the baggie, and her face brightened. “Did you make cookies?”

“Yes, but they're not for us. They're dog cookies.”

“Oh.”

At the sight of the girl's disappointed expression, Millie vowed to arrive tomorrow with a tray of people treats. “How was your weekend?”

“Okay, I guess.” The slender shoulders shrugged. “I found an apartment. It's on Walnut Street, so I can walk to work.”

Possible rentals flickered through Millie's thoughts. “Betty and Ralph Hunsaker's place?”

Susan nodded. “It's just a couple of rooms above the garage, but that's all I need. They seem like nice people.”

“They are,” Millie agreed. “They built that apartment for Betty's mother, but then the poor dear broke a hip and couldn't climb the stairs so she moved to Tennessee to live with her son.”

“That's what they said. Daddy liked them.”

Millie maintained a pleasant expression. “Your father was in town?”

“Yes, he came up yesterday to help me find a suitable place to live.” Her lips twisted. “Not that there was much to see.”

“It's a small town,” Millie agreed. “What a shame I didn't get to meet him.”

She was about to ask what he thought of Goose Creek when the door opened. They both turned, expecting to see a pet owner, but a young man entered with no animal in sight. A pair of worn but clean jeans rode low on his hips, held in place by a leather belt with a Harley Davidson buckle encircling a trim waist. He fixed Millie with a clear blue gaze.

“Mrs. Richardson?” His deep voice held an engaging touch of gravel.

The handyman from Frankfort. Thirty minutes early. “Mr. Hinkle?”

“Call me Justin, ma'am.” He stepped inside, a pair of heavy work boots thudding on the floor, and approached with his hand extended. Millie shook it—hers disappeared in its surprisingly gentle but gigantic depths—and gestured toward Susan.

“This is Dr. Susan Jeffries.”

Susan's eyes grew wide enough to overtake her face. Her lips parted slightly and froze. What was wrong with the girl? Millie glanced back at Justin to find him returning the stare, his expression openly admiring.

Goodness. If the sparks between these two get any warmer, I'll have to call the fire department.

He recovered himself. “A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Jeffries.”

The hand he extended hung between them for a long moment. Then Susan's mouth closed and she gave herself a visible shake.

“You too.” The poor girl winced when her voice squeaked. She took his hand and then sucked in an audible breath. The handshake drew out, neither participant releasing the other's grasp. Hiding a delighted smile, Millie busied herself with the task of unzipping the baggie and emptying the cookies into the doggie treat jar.

Susan finally withdrew her hand. “Do you have a dog?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your pet, I mean. Is it a dog?”

He looked around the room as if noticing where he was for the first time. Again, Millie hid a smile. Budding attraction was so much fun to watch.

“Oh. No. I mean, I don't have a pet. I'd like to, but it's…” He jerked his head. “What I mean is, do I need one?”

At Susan's confused expression, Millie broke into the conversation. “Justin does construction work. He's in town to give me an estimate on repairs to the house my husband and I are buying.”

“So you're not here for me.” Susan looked completely crestfallen, and then seemed to realize what she'd said. She stiffened with a jerk. “I mean, you're not here for a veterinary visit.”

A disarming smile crept over Justin's features. “If I needed a vet, you'd be the first one I called.”

Roses erupted in Susan's cheeks, the result charming. Disarmed, the girl retreated a step, obviously ready to make a dash for her office. “I've got some, uh, some paperwork. Back…there.” She pointed vaguely behind her, her gaze still glued to Justin. “So, I'll just leave…” Another step. Then she halted and snapped her fingers, her gaze flying toward Millie. “I forgot to tell you. Doc called on Saturday. They're extending their stay in Florida until the twenty-sixth. Would you mind handling the afternoons a bit longer?”

Full days at work really didn't suit Millie. She missed her afternoons alone in the house before Albert got home from work. Especially now that she had to start packing away a lifetime's worth of accumulated possessions. But she couldn't leave the poor girl high and dry.

She pasted on a smile. “Certainly.”

“Thank you.” With another shy glance at the handyman, she fled.

Justin straightened and cleared his throat. “I stopped to pick up that list you mentioned on the phone.”

“Of course.” Millie retrieved the inspection document from her
handbag. “My realtor is planning to meet you at the house at ten to let you in.”

He glanced at his watch. “That's fine. I'll go on over and see the outside first. It'll probably take me a couple of hours, and then I'll head back to my office to put together some prices. Unless I find something I need to research, I'll have my bid ready by late afternoon.”

“That's fine. You have our number.”

He nodded, and continued to stand in front of her, his gaze returning to the clinic door through which Susan had disappeared.

“Have you visited Goose Creek before?” Millie asked.

The question seemed to remind him of her presence. He looked at her with a start. “Oh. No, ma'am. This is my first time.” Once again, he looked toward the back. “I hope it won't be the last.”

She didn't bother to hide her smile this time.

Violet called that afternoon.

“Something's brewing. I was over in Frankfort getting my tags renewed and I saw Eulie at the
Pic Pac.
” Her emphasis flooded the words with import.

The meaning became instantly clear to Millie. Creekers either shopped at the Kroger in nearby Versailles or made the longer trek to Lexington. For Norman Pilkington's wife to go all the way to Frankfort definitely looked suspicious.

But there could be a logical reason. “Maybe she had business in Frankfort too, and stopped to pick up a few things.”

“Nope. I spied her car in the parking lot so I went in.” A dramatic pause.
“Her shopping cart was full.”

“Oh my.” Millie toyed with a paperclip, thoughts whirling. “Still, there's no law that says—”

“I confronted her,” Violet announced. “Asked her point-blank why she was shopping there instead of the Kroger store. She turned red as a beet and stuttered like a nail gun.”

When on one of her cross-examination binges, Violet could be quite intimidating. Poor, shy Eulie wouldn't stand a chance.

“What did she say?”

“A lame excuse about a tomato sale, which I refused to accept, and finally the truth came out.” Drama tinged her voice. “Norman
made
her go to Frankfort.”

“Why would he do that?”

“To keep her quiet.” Violet lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “She knows something, and he doesn't want her telling it.”

Glancing around the empty waiting room, Millie whispered back, “What does she know?”

“There's something planned for Saturday. Norman's been holding secret meetings in the barn all weekend.”

A delicious chill swept across Millie's skin. “What are they meeting about?”

Violet replied in a normal tone, disappointment heavy in her voice. “I couldn't pry it out of her. Said Norman would skin her alive if she told. But she did say if I have any errands to do out of town, Saturday would be a good day to get them done.”

The paperclip was now a straight wire, and she used it to pick absently at the ragged edges of the message pad. Who could she call to find out? “Who do we know in Norman's camp?”

“Would Hazel tell?”

“Possibly.” Millie reviewed the conversation with Hazel at the Whistlestop. Did her urging them to take sides have an unspoken purpose? Was she, in fact, feeling them out to see if it was safe to invite them to these top-secret meetings in the Pilkington barn? If she'd been inclined to share details, she would have done so then. “What about Sharon Geddes? Albert said Chuck was in Norman's camp at the Council meeting.”

“Good idea. You want to call?”

Susan emerged from the clinic then, frowning over a folder. The girl seemed determined to memorize the contents of every pet file in
the cabinet, though Millie couldn't imagine why. Probably bored, the poor dear. “I really can't right now.”

“I'll do it.” Violet sounded positively gleeful at the prospect. “I'm sure I can get her to spill the beans.”

“Let me know the minute you find out anything.” Millie hung up and turned her attention to Susan.

“According to the chart, we haven't seen this animal in over two years. I've noticed quite a few like that.” She closed the folder and read from the tab. “Tiger McCoy.”

“Oh, that's Christine McCoy's beagle. She works at a bank in Lexington, so she started taking him to one of those drop-off pet store clinics nearby. She said we close too early and she can't get back here in time.”

“I don't have a problem staying open a bit later.” Susan's eyes brightened as an idea occurred. “Do you think there are others who go somewhere else because of scheduling problems?”