“How are things going here?” Doc’s gaze swept the empty waiting room.
“Picking up,” Millie assured him.
Susan nodded. “Things were kind of rough at first, but I think we hit a turning point last week.”
“Fine, fine.” He rubbed his hands together. “That makes our news easier.”
Millie had seen it coming a week ago. “You’re not coming back.”
Lizzie split into a jaw-breaking grin. “That’s right! We bought a villa in Orlando and we’re moving next week.”
Doc had the grace to look slightly more sympathetic. “Since you’re getting your feet under you, there’s really no reason for us to stick around. In fact, you’ll do better without me hovering over you.”
To her credit, Susan controlled her reaction admirably. She agreed with a smile that only trembled a little and congratulated the Forsythes on their retirement. Millie hugged them both and promised to stop by the house to wish them farewell before the end of the week. When they left with Ajax, she and Susan stared at each other in silence.
“I think he’s right,” Millie eventually offered. “If people know Doc is around, they might not be as eager to accept a new veterinarian.”
“I guess so.”
“And you are doing a great job by contacting the former patients.” Millie tapped the appointment chart. “We’ve gotten three appointments from those phone calls.”
“That’s true.”
Susan’s pocket beeped again, and the worried creases on her forehead cleared. The pretty blush returned as she read the text. Millie had to bite her tongue to keep from asking what Justin said this time. Instead she moved the pen cup back up onto the counter.
The door opened again. Had Doc forgotten something? Instead, a man she did not know stepped inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, a smattering of silver in his military-short hair. And no pet.
“Daddy!” Shock rode high in Susan’s tone. “What are you doing here?”
Millie studied the man. Strong, square jaw, thin lips that looked like they rarely saw a smile. She detected a slight resemblance in the shape of the eyes, but Susan apparently took after her mother.
He opened his arms wide. “Don’t I get a hug?”
Susan crossed the room for an embrace. A little wooden, in Millie’s opinion.
Releasing his daughter, he extended a hand toward Millie. “Tom Jeffries. You must be Mrs. Richardson. Susan told me how helpful you’ve been during the transition.”
She hid a wince at the force of his grip. “Call me Millie. I’m happy to help. You have a wonderful daughter.”
His chest swelled. “Yes, I do.”
“So, what are you doing here, Daddy?” Susan voiced the question tentatively.
All trace of geniality cleared from his face. “After our phone call last night, I decided we should talk in person. You obviously need some levelheaded guidance, so I’ve cleared my calendar for a few days.”
The poor girl’s face drained of color. “A few…days?”
“I can stay the week if necessary. Nothing takes priority over my little girl.” He studied her through narrowed eyes. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
Susan’s hand slipped into her pocket. A struggle plain on her face, the fabric of her lab coat bulged as she clenched her phone in her fist. But she answered in a voice completely void of emotion. “Of course not. I have no plans.”
Millie’s heart twisted.
The three o’clock appointment arrived then, a shepherd mix who’d tangled with a raccoon and had a gash in his ear to show for it. Susan ushered the owner and her patient into the back.
Alone with Tom Jeffries, Millie fought a silent battle with herself. She should keep her mouth shut. Albert would say Susan’s life was none of her business, and he’d be right. But the poor girl had no mother, and clearly the man in front of her was in need of feminine guidance.
She assumed her best maternal smile. “I hope you won’t think me impertinent, but I wonder if I could have a word with you about Susan.”
“Of course. I’m always happy to talk about my daughter.”
“I know I’ve only just met her, but I’ve grown quite fond of her in the past few weeks, which is the only reason I feel able to talk to you about this.”
He rested his folded hands on the reception desk. “Go ahead.”
“Susan obviously has a great deal of respect for you and relies heavily on your guidance.”
“I’m fortunate to have a daughter who isn’t impulsive, as some young people her age are prone to be.” He dipped his head. “She’s levelheaded enough to know when she needs someone with more experience.”
Millie chose her words carefully. “I wonder if she might be a bit too dependent on your experience.”
The pleasant expression chilled. “I’m not sure I follow you.”
“It’s just that she seems unsure of herself. Her instincts and ideas are good, but when it comes to acting on them, she’s unable to make a decision on her own.” She drew a breath. “About her business, and her personal life too.”
The eyes that bore into hers became rock-hard. “Is this about that construction worker?”
She’d touched a nerve, obviously. “Justin is a responsible young man, a business owner.”
“He drives a motorcycle.” The last word came out as a snarl.
“A very nice one. A collector’s item, I’m told.” Never in a million years did Millie think she’d be put in the position of defending a motorcycle, but the man’s obvious disdain made her want to stand on the opposite side of the fence. Any fence.
“There is no place in Susan’s future for a biker in a hardhat. She’s worked too hard to throw it away on someone with an unstable profession.”
“Unstable?”
“Construction is seasonal and highly dependent upon the economy. She’ll be much better off marrying an executive in the private sector, or a surgeon, or an engineer. And not just financially. She needs someone who is her intellectual equal.”
“Surely you’re not questioning Justin’s intelligence before you’ve even met him.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t take a high I.Q. to nail two pieces of wood together.”
At first she thought a phone was buzzing. Then she realized the sound was the buzz of her blood pressure rising. The sheer snobbery of the man rendered her speechless.
“Look, Mrs. Richardson. Millie. I know you’re trying to be helpful, but believe me when I say I know my daughter better than anyone else in the world. I have her best interest at heart, and I refuse to stand by and watch her endanger everything she’s worked for.”
If his expression were any more condescending, she’d be tempted to slap it off. In fact, her palm itched to connect with his face. If she weren’t a Christian woman, she’d do it just for the satisfaction of seeing that smirk replaced by her handprint.
“In fact, I’m considering a change so I’ll be closer. My bank has a branch in Lexington, and I might be able to pull a few strings to get an expansion. They need an executive on site in central Kentucky.”
So he could breathe down her neck. Pity washed over Millie for the poor young woman.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am, knowing Susan has friends who care enough to speak on her behalf. But rest assured, I won’t let her go astray.” With a glance at his watch, he turned. “I think I’ll run over to Lexington and check into my hotel. Would you tell Susan I’ll be back at six to take her to dinner?”
Robbed of her voice by a helpless numbness, Millie nodded.
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t help but regard his parting comment as a threat.
A text. She’d ended their relationship with a text.
Susan rolled over on the futon, twisting the blanket into a knot, and covered her head with a pillow. But no matter how hard she pressed against her ears, she couldn’t shut out her thoughts.
Coward.
&nb
sp; Heartless, spineless jellyfish.
He deserved a phone call at the very least.
But it wasn’t a matter of what Justin deserved. It was a matter of what she’d been capable of doing. And she knew without question that she would burst into tears the minute she heard his voice.
Daddy is right. I know he is.
But here, in her dark apartment with Puff as her only companion, it wasn’t a matter of right or wrong. It was a matter of the heart, and hers ached in her chest.
The familiar beep beep of an arriving text pierced the silence like an arrow through an apple. Tossing the pillow aside, she scrambled across the mattress on hands and knees to grab at the phone. When she saw the sender was Justin, her fingers trembled so badly she could barely read the screen.
Trying to understand. Failing miserably. I miss you.
The words blurred as tears filled her eyes. For a moment she sat still, head bowed over the phone. Then she wiped her face on the corner of her blanket and returned the phone to the end table.
Why did doing the right thing hurt so much?
Chapter Twenty
An ancient brick building that looked to Al like a detention center housed Goose Creek Elementary School. All three of his children had attended kindergarten through fifth grade here. In all the years he’d lived in Goose Creek, he had never seen the school so crowded.
“I’m glad we walked,” Millie said as they turned the corner.
She might as well have said I told you so, since he’d wanted to drive. Turns out she was right, but he clamped his teeth against the admission. Parked cars lined the street, and a stream of slow-moving traffic crept along looking for a place to squeeze in.
A crowd had gathered on the sidewalk in front of the school, dozens of signs identifying them as Norman’s protest group. Their number seemed to have doubled.
Al nodded in their direction. “He’s gaining support.”
“I think that’s both sides. There’s Pete.”
Al looked more closely. The throng was comprised of two distinct crews marching along the sidewalk toward each other. Pete’s blond head was clearly identifiable among the throng. The sign he carried tonight looked more professionally constructed, with a sturdy wooden post and stenciled lettering that identified him as a Council supporter.
Millie scanned the area. “I’m surprised Franklin and Lulu aren’t here. They certainly enjoyed the demonstration last week.”
“I didn’t tell him about it.”
Al felt no guilt at the admission. Pete had called earlier in the week to try to enlist him in tonight’s demonstration, which he politely declined. Now that he had publicly thrown his hat into the ring as a Council supporter, he would stand by his decision, but joining a protest march was entirely out of the question. Thacker, on the other hand, would have leaped in with enthusiasm, which is why Al purposefully kept the information from his coworker. In just over a week, the Thackers would officially become Creekers. After that he would have no way of escaping the man. He saw absolutely nothing wrong in preserving his privacy in the meantime.
As Al and Millie neared the building, Norman and Pete approached each other. Tension rode high among protesters and onlookers alike as the two exchanged glares.
“Oh, dear.” Millie’s hand tightened on his arm. “I hope they keep their heads about them.”
“If they don’t, they won’t be here long enough to hear the announcement.” Al pointed out a line of uniformed officers standing near the front doors of the schoolhouse, watching the confrontation.
When a scant three yards lay between the two leaders, they halted. Glares were exchanged. There may have been mutters, which Al couldn’t hear at this distance. At the same moment the two whirled and retreated, marching in the direction they’d just come. The Richardsons joined the rest of the onlookers in breathing a sigh of relief.
“Look, there’s Violet.”
Their stout neighbor caught sight of them and hurried over. “We’re gonna be packed like sardines in that gymnasium,” she announced. “Squashed like zucchini. Elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder.”
Millie tossed him a warning glance and replied before he could roll his eyes. “We’d better get inside, then. I want to get a seat.”
Rather than cross the picket line, Al made his way through the grass. He nodded a greeting at the stern-faced deputies, who did not respond, and joined a slow-moving stream of Creekers entering the building. The familiar smell of pencil erasers and old books permeated the air, reminding him of PTA meetings when the kids were younger.
Folding metal chairs crowded the gymnasium floor, row upon row of them, set up to face the stage at the far end beneath the basketball goal. Most were occupied, though the first few rows on each side of the center aisle had been roped off. The bleachers had been pulled out along one side, and they were less crowded.
“There’s Susan,” Millie announced, her voice relieved. She took off toward the bleachers, Violet in tow.
Al opened his mouth to protest. He didn’t relish the prospect of sitting on a hard bench with nothing to lean against, but his wife plunged into the crowd. Unless he wanted to sit alone, he had no choice but to follow.
The veterinarian greeted them with a polite smile that failed to reach her eyes. Millie had told him about her father’s arrival and her subsequent dumping of Hinkle. Looking at her tonight, she certainly didn’t look happy about it. In fact, she looked downright miserable.
“I’m glad you came,” Millie told the girl when they’d settled themselves beside her.
“The more I thought about it, I realized you were right. Since I’m a new resident, I’d better put in an appearance.”
Violet leaned forward and spoke over Al. “A Creeker, dear. That’s what we call ourselves.”
Susan nodded, her expression serious. “Creeker. I’ll remember.”
“And where’s your father?” Al glanced around the area, looking for a tyrant with an unkind gleam in his eye. According to Millie, the man might well have horns on his head.
“I forgot to tell you. He got called back to Paducah for an urgent meeting.” Millie offered the explanation in a distracted manner, busily scanning the gymnasium.
“He’ll be back up for the weekend to go over the clinic’s books,” Susan offered. “Accounting isn’t one of my strong points, but it definitely is his.”
Her reply held neither sorrow nor relief, which stirred a sympathetic response in Al. Millie was right. The poor girl was being suffocated by her well-intentioned father, and she didn’t even realize it. Millie interrupted her perusal of the crowd to flash him a knowing glance, and then returned her attention to searching the attendees. No doubt taking mental notes of who attended and who didn’t so she could compare notes with her cronies tomorrow.
A commotion on the floor drew Al’s attention. Norman and his followers filed through the door, led by a pair of deputies. They marched down the center aisle, signs held high. Little Norm had even donned fresh jeans, a collared shirt, and a tie, at which he plucked continually. Their guide led them to the reserved seats in the front.
“Is the mayor crazy, sitting them up front like that?” Al asked Millie.
When Norman’s group had been seated, another pair of deputies led the opposition into the gym. They took their seats with many a glare exchanged across the aisle.
Finally, Mayor Jerry Selbo entered from the left side of the stage. A loud hiss erupted from the crowd and rose as everyone shushed everyone else. The mayor crossed to a metal music stand in the center of the dais and tapped a microphone beside it. The minor explosions amplified through the speakers, and the crowd settled.
“Thanks, everyone, for coming out tonight.”
A screech of feedback pierced the air, and most of the audience slapped hands over their ears. A technician raced onto the stage toward a control box, and the feedback ceased. The man straightened and pointed toward Jerry.
“Sorry about that.” The mayor gave an apologetic
shrug. “Anyway, as I was saying, the format of tonight’s town meeting will be a bit different, since some of the Council members felt it was in their best interest not to attend.”
Al scanned the crowd and spotted Lynn Bowers’ red head, flanked by Gary Vandergrift and Aaron Southworth. Beside Gary, Sally held a pen poised above a notepad. He saw no sign of Diane or Phyllis.
Jerry continued. “Personally, I think it’s a shame when an elected official feels threatened to appear in public. And their fears are not unfounded. I’m sure it will come as a surprise to most of you that we have received threats and been the victims of vandalism over the issue of the painting of the water tower.” A murmur raced through the auditorium. “These acts are uncharacteristic of the good people of Goose Creek, and frankly, they sadden me.”
His expressive face did look sad, almost stricken, like a father who has learned of his child’s grievous misbehavior. Al scanned the assemblage. Most of the audience displayed surprise, though a few hung their heads guiltily.
Now Jerry straightened, his expression confident. “Tonight I trust we can put our differences behind us. In just a moment I will announce the name of the individual who has been awarded the job of painting the Goose Creek water tower. The Council received eight bids for the job.”
Eight? Al exchanged a surprised glance with Millie. He’d no idea there would be so much interest.
“Each one was prepared with professionalism and attention to detail.” Jerry’s gaze focused on Little Norm in the front row, and he nodded an acknowledgement. “The Council discussed them all at length. In fact, it was the longest Council meeting on record. I’m not exaggerating when I say we agonized over our decision. But in the end, the vote was unanimous.”
He halted. An expectant hush settled over the audience. Al found that his palms were damp, and he wiped them on his slacks.
“The job of painting the Goose Creek water tower will be done by”—a final pause—”Ms. Sandra Barnes of Atlanta, Georgia.”
Pandemonium erupted. Pete’s group broke into applause, whooping their victory and waving their signs high in the air. On the opposite side of the floor, Norman leaped to his feet. His shouts of, “No fair! No fair!” were augmented by Hazel’s cry to, “Impeach the mayor! Impeach the whole Council!” The deputies, stationed strategically at either side of the stage, moved to form a protective line between the front row and the stage, where Jerry stood calmly, hands clasped in front of him, waiting for the uproar to die down.
The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade Page 19