“What do you think the Updykes will say to our offer?” Apprehension flooded Millie’s question.
Louise gave an elegant shrug as she rose. “We’ll know in a few days. I’ll call you the minute I have their response.”
Al stood and shook her hand, but remained in the kitchen while Millie walked her to the front door. Hushed whispers drifted back to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. No doubt comparing notes on what a stubborn old poop he was. That was okay. He’d put his foot down, stuck to his guns, and gotten his way. A successful evening by his reckoning, though no doubt his wife would disagree. Perhaps a peace offering would be in order.
When she returned, he spoke first. “How about we go out to dinner? It’s going to be a mild night. We could walk down to the Bistro.”
Her favorite of the town’s three restaurants, though a little pricier than he liked. She studied him with a shrewd, narrow-eyed stare, obviously not fooled one bit. Not that he’d expected her to be. His Millie was too sharp for that.
But she was also a peace-loving woman. Her expression cleared and she shook her head. “There’s no sense spending the money when we have so many leftovers. Let’s stay in.”
That suited Al just fine. He left her bustling around the kitchen, pulling dishes out of the fridge, and headed to the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. As he passed the front window, he paused to watch Louise pound a huge, ugly For Sale sign in his front yard. It wouldn’t be there long, of that he was confident.
Al had just settled into his recliner after a delicious dinner of leftover anniversary roast beef when the phone rang. Rufus leaped up to sound an alarm, just in case they had not noticed. He and Millie eyed each other.
“It’s your turn,” Al told her.
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is. I got it when Doug called the other day.”
With a resigned sigh Millie set her knitting in the basket and heaved herself out of her chair. Rufus trotted after her into the kitchen. Al sat back and returned his attention to the TV screen. Someday he would install a telephone line here in the family room. They had the cordless in the kitchen but never remembered to bring it with them when they settled in front of the television for the night.
A squeal from the kitchen brought him upright in his recliner. Millie came running into the room, the phone clutched in her hand, eyes dancing.
“They took it! They took our offer!”
“Huh?” Numbness stole over Al’s brain like fog creeping over a river. He was vaguely aware that somewhere in the distance dark clouds gathered on the horizon of his future. His carefully laid plan, designed to ensure a peaceful retirement spent traveling the country, had unexpectedly hit a roadblock on the first step.
“They accepted $500,000?” He could barely choke the words out. Surely the Updyke brothers were not that desperate for money.
Millie waved an impatient hand in his direction and then stuck a finger in her left ear, focusing on whatever she was hearing through the telephone. “Okay. Yes, of course. I think that’s perfectly reasonable. I’m sure Al won’t mind agreeing to that.”
“Mind agreeing to what?”
Millie unplugged her ear and placed a hand over the receiver. “They want to add a kick-out clause. I’ll explain in a minute.”
A kick-out clause? Did that mean they were reserving the right to come down at a future date and kick them out of the house? No, surely not. Al perched on the edge of the recliner and watched Millie’s face as she listened.
“Are you serious? No other conditions?” A pause. “All right. I’ll go over that with Al, and we’ll drop by tomorrow when he gets off of work to sign the papers.” She giggled—actually giggled—and said, “Thank you so much, Louise. I can’t tell you how excited I am!” She punched the disconnect button and launched herself across the room. In the next moment Al found his lap full of Millie. “We’re going to buy the Updyke house! Oh Al, I can hardly believe it.”
Al could hardly believe it himself. “What’s a kick-out clause?”
“If someone comes along with a better offer before we close on the house, the Updykes have the right to accept that offer instead of ours.” A frown tugged at the corners of Millie’s mouth. “Louise says she doesn’t think that’s likely, because no one else has looked at the property at all. But the house just went on the market. Word may spread, and our offer is awfully low.”
One ray of hope in an otherwise gloomy situation, as far as Al was concerned. “We still have to sell this house,” he warned. “And don’t forget my condition about the inspection.”
“I know.” She threw her arms around his neck for another squeeze. “But if it’s meant to be, everything will fall into place. And I believe it’s meant to be.” Then she bounced out of his lap and began punching numbers into the handset as she dashed from the room. “I’ve got to call Violet. She won’t believe it.”
The sound of enthusiastic chatter drifted through the kitchen doorway. Alone in the family room, Al stared morosely at his slippers. He was not ready to concede victory yet. He had placed several high hurdles on the path before them, and he would not lower a single one. If Millie thought he’d been stubborn as a post before, she was about to meet an unyielding force the likes of which she’d never encountered in her heretofore indulgent husband. No budging, not even an inch.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lost important ground in this battle of wills.
Chapter Nine
I’m going on vacation,” announced Doc Forsythe. “Leaving tomorrow.”
The past week has been dismal enough to dampen Susan’s enthusiasm about her new business. In fact, she almost backed out of the deal entirely two days ago while standing in the loan officer’s office with a pen poised above the empty signature line, ready to sign the papers. But Daddy’s confidence bolstered her, and now the loan was a done deal. The money was in the process of being transferred, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She clutched the edge of the reception desk and tried to school the panic out of her voice. “What do you mean you’re going on vacation? You can’t desert me.”
“Of course I can.” The older man gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder. “You are doing just fine.”
Seated in her rolling chair behind the reception counter, Millie remained silent, but her eyebrows arched at the remark.
“Fine?” Susan’s voice squeaked. “I’ve examined exactly three animals in the past ten days. And one of those was a drop-off. When the owner picked him up she was furious that you hadn’t completed the examination.” She whirled toward Millie for verification. “Isn’t that right?”
The ever-honest receptionist conceded with a reluctant nod. “She wasn’t thrilled.”
“Creekers are a stubborn bunch,” Doc agreed. “But don’t worry. You’ll grow on them.”
“I don’t think I’ll grow on them by tomorrow.”
Doc’s expression became serious. “My leaving is the best thing that can happen to you at this point. When I’m gone they’ll have nobody else to turn to. They’ll have to come here, and that’s your chance to prove yourself.”
“You don’t think they’ll start taking their pets out of town?” A hint of desperation crept into the question.
The older man toyed with a new growth of gray hair on his upper lip. “Some of them probably will.” Her spirits sank toward the floor. “But emergencies are bound to happen. Animals get sick, and their owners will call here out of habit. If you’re the only doctor available…” He shrugged.
“They’ll be stuck with me.” She tried not to sound like a sullen child.
“They’ll be happy to have a competent, qualified veterinarian right in town,” he corrected.
Before she could voice her next question, Millie did. “Why the short notice? Surely you didn’t just decide to pick up and go on vacation last night.”
“Why not?” A wide grin settled on his face. “We’re retiring. We’re learni
ng to be spontaneous. Lizzie found a good deal on a last-minute rental in Orlando and made some calls. We’re going to check out a few retirement communities while we’re down there, including the one my mother lives in.”
“Who’ll be covering afternoons at the desk?” Millie placed her hands on the reception counter in a possessive manner.
“Lizzie’s going to contact Hazel and Carol this morning. If you’re interested in picking up a few extra hours, you can have as many as you want.”
She looked thoughtful a moment. “Actually, I could use the extra money for my renovation fund. Just for a week, though. I don’t want a full-time job.”
“Fine. Give Lizzie a call.” He turned a kind look toward Susan. “I suggest you start interviewing for a replacement immediately. When we return my wife wants to cut her hours way back so she can start packing for the move. The house is going on the market tonight.”
A lump lodged in Susan’s throat, and she managed a nod.
“Good luck with that,” Millie said darkly, a frown on her customarily cheerful face. “We haven’t had a single looker, and it’s been over a week.”
Susan’s mind whirled. Interview for a new receptionist? She didn’t even know if she could afford to continue paying Millie her part-time wage.
“And of course we’ll board Ajax here.” Doc gave her a pleasant pat on the arm. “See, there’s your first solo customer.”
“Ajax?”
“A bull terrier mix Lizzie and I adopted a few years ago,” he said. “A bit on the rambunctious side, but smart as a whip. You’ll love him.”
The front door opened, and the first client of the day entered.
“Francine, you’re a sight for sore eyes this fine morning.” Doc’s booming voice filled the small reception area. He laid an arm across Susan’s shoulders and pulled her forward. “Allow me to introduce Dr. Jeffries. Susan, meet Francine Ryan and one of our many six-toed patients, Smokey.”
The middle-aged woman clutched a gray cat close to her chest and eyed Susan with alarm. “I heard you were retiring,” she told Doc without removing a horrified stare from Susan, “but I hoped it was a rumor. I don’t trust Smokey to—”
“Nonsense.” Doc cut her off and deftly removed the cat from her arms. “I hand-picked Dr. Jeffries myself. Smokey will love her.”
He shoved the feline at Susan and guided a protesting Mrs. Ryan toward the clinic door. Well, that was one way to get her accepted—by brute force. But what would happen tomorrow, when Doc Forsythe headed south to Florida? She had to do something to put herself in the good graces of the local pet owners. Otherwise, her business would fail before the first loan payment was due.
Holding the warm, purring body carefully, she trailed after Doc while compiling a mental list of compliments, most involving the creature’s unusual sixth digit. At the clinic doorway, she turned to Millie.
“You know those postcards you mentioned last week?” Daddy hadn’t thought a promotion of that sort necessary, but he was down in Paducah, hours and miles away. He didn’t realize how desperate the situation was here in Goose Creek. “I can’t do free, but what about fifty percent off the first checkup?”
Millie gave an approving nod. “I think that should attract some attention.”
“How quickly can we have some printed?”
A dimple appeared in each cheek. “Leave it to me. I know a guy.”
On Wednesday morning Millie whipped the Beetle into the parking lot to find Susan’s car already there. Goodness, what a dedicated young woman. Gathering her knitting bag, purse, and a large envelope, she exited the Beetle, noting as she passed Susan’s car that the windshield held an unbroken layer of foggy moisture. How long had the girl been there? She must have arrived in the wee hours of the morning for the dew to settle like that.
Juggling her bags to unlock the front door, Millie stepped inside. Light shone from the cracks around the clinic door, but the waiting room remained dark.
“Hello?” She directed her voice toward the back as she rounded the reception counter and stowed her belongings in the file cabinet.
The door swung open and Susan appeared, a steaming coffee mug in one hand. A brief almost-smile flashed onto her solemn face and she gave a quiet, “Good morning.”
“And I thought I was an early riser,” Millie said as she slid the drawer shut. “You must have gotten here hours before sunup.”
“Well, uh.” The girl didn’t quite meet her gaze. “Yes.”
Millie examined her more closely. Her straight hair, which was a nondescript dark blond, hung damply to the shoulders of a crisp white lab coat with Dr. S. Jeffries embroidered above the breast pocket. In terms of makeup, the girl typically wore little more than pale pink lipstick and a bit of mascara—Millie had thought several times that a touch of color on her cheeks would emphasize her eyes—but today she wore none at all. When she stepped near, the scent of soap clung strongly to her.
The reason hit Millie in a flash. “Did you spend the night here?”
A guilty flush crept over Susan’s cheeks. “Well, yes. Doc said he was going to bring Ajax late last night and kennel him so they could leave first thing this morning. I wanted to be here for a personal introduction. So while I was waiting, it occurred to me that it’s a waste of money to pay for a hotel when there’s plenty of room in the back office, and a hand-held sprayer in the grooming sink, and a microwave and coffeepot. So I drove to Lexington and got my lizard and—”
“Your lizard?” Millie interrupted, trying to banish the image of the girl washing up in the dog washing sink.
Susan nodded. “His name is Puff. I checked out of the Holiday Inn and picked up a camping cot and sleeping bag at Walmart on the way back.” She smoothed a damp lock of hair behind her ear and gave Millie a slightly defensive look. “It’s very comfortable.”
Millie stared at the girl. Were her finances so desperate, then? How could she afford to buy the clinic if she couldn’t even pay for a hotel room?
Though she really should discuss this with Albert before offering, Millie couldn’t stop herself. “My husband and I have two spare bedrooms, and we’d be happy to have you stay with us until you find something in town.”
But Susan shook her head. “I’ll be fine here. Actually, I prefer it. I can work on the files as late as I want and keep an eye on the boarded animals.” Her gaze circled the room, and a slight smile played around the corners of her lips. “Besides, it makes me feel more like it’s really mine, you know?”
In an odd way, Millie did. “At least accept an invitation to dinner every few days.” She cocked her head and added, “And you might find the occasional use of my guest bathroom’s shower preferable to dousing yourself in the dog bath every day.”
To her surprise, the girl laughed, the first time Millie had heard her make the sound. “I can’t argue with that. Thank you.”
“Oh, before I forget.” Millie picked up the large envelope she’d brought from home and pulled out a sheet of paper. “What do you think of this? My husband drew it up last night.” She handed over a copy of Albert’s draft postcard and watched Susan’s face light up.
“This is really good.” She held the paper at arm’s length and tilted her head. “I like the font he used for Introducing Dr. Susan Jeffries. And those little scissors around the dotted line make it look like a real coupon.”
“My Albert is so talented.” Millie didn’t bother to filter the pride from her voice. “I counted our client list, and figure if we print 250 we’ll have enough to send one to everyone and have some leftover to set out on the counter in case people forget theirs. And I know Lucy Cardwell will let us put some by the cash register down at the drug store.”
“Good thinking. I’m going to fax this to Daddy and make sure he approves.”
The comment struck Millie as odd. Of course it was perfectly fine to ask for advice from someone you respect. Their own children, who were only a few years older than Susan, often called to discuss their decisions w
ith Albert and her. But the idea of a grown woman, a business owner, having to get approval from her father?
Of course, her father did cosign the loan. Millie had overheard her discussing that fact with Doc last week. Still, wouldn’t the man encourage her to make her own business decisions?
She stood aside while Susan headed toward the fax machine resting on the corner of the reception counter, behind the dog cookie jar. “Is your father a businessman?”
“Oh yes. He’s a bank vice president down in Paducah.” Susan dropped the paper into the machine and punched a series of numbers on the front panel. “He’s got great instincts about business and finances and practically everything else. I never make a move without consulting Daddy first.”
Well, that made sense. While the fax machine whirred and buzzed to scan Albert’s paper, Millie booted up the computer for the day. She replaced the pen cup with a smile. In Lizzie’s absence it would stay in place for a full week.
Within two minutes, Susan’s cell phone rang. She extracted it from her lab coat pocket.
“Good morning, Daddy,” she answered in a cheerful tone.
Millie heard the drone of a deep male voice.
“It’s a postcard with an introductory offer to generate business. My morning receptionist’s husband designed it. Doesn’t it look great?”
The man’s tone did not change, but Susan’s expression did. Her smile faded and, with a quick glance at Millie, she headed toward her office.
“I know we did,” her voice drifted back to Millie in the seconds before the door swung shut, “but if you could see…”
Eavesdropping became impossible. The conversation continued in the back office, Susan’s voice barely audible above the whirr of the printer as it spit out the day’s appointment schedule. Millie glanced over the list, noting the names that were likely to cancel their appointments when they learned of Doc’s absence. Unfortunately there were quite a few. Ah, but Mrs. Olsen was scheduled to bring her poodle, Tiny, in at ten for a checkup. Surely that sweet, elderly soul would take pity on poor Susan and allow her to conduct the exam. In fact, Millie might just make a call—
The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade Page 8