The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade (32 page)

With a speed that left Susan's head spinning, she pulled them away. Al's expression betrayed a bewilderment that matched her own as they disappeared into the crowd. Odd woman, that Millie. Nice, but odd. With a shrug, she turned toward the sidewalk—

—and ran straight into Justin.

Several things became clear at once. Millie's insistence that she attend tonight's meeting. Her distracted manner all evening. The firm grip that refused to let her go until
she
was ready, and the sudden dismissal and subsequent speedy retreat.

But those things dissolved as her eyes were captured by Justin's. Her surroundings faded. Voices dimmed and were drowned out by the drumbeat of her pulse.

“Can we talk?”

She ought to say no. Ought to leave now, before he had a chance to say a word. Maybe she did owe him an explanation, but she could text it to him. And yet…

Numbly, she nodded.

He glanced around, and then took her hand to pull her away from the crowd. A thrill shot up her arm at the touch of his fingers. Heart in her throat, she allowed him to guide her around the side of the school building where a playground lay in darkness. Wood chips crunched beneath her sneakers as they approached a dome-shaped jungle gym.

When he released her hand, her skin felt cold, bereft of his touch. But she had no time to think about that because once again her eyes were drawn to his, held prisoner in the depths that the night turned black.

“Why?”

One word. But it held an agony of emotion that stirred a response in her. Tears stung her eyes, and she looked away. “I…I have a new business.”

“So do I.” He dipped his head, trying to recapture her eyes. “I just went out on my own last year.”

“Then you understand how hard it is. We have to focus, build our customer base. We don't have time for…”

“For what?”

For love.
Those were the words that almost crossed her lips.

“For distractions,” she said.

He stepped closer. Every nerve in her body tingled with the awareness that Justin stood less than a foot in front of her, and that she ought to retreat. Back up. But her feet refused to cooperate.

“Am I a distraction, Susan?” At the sound of her name spoken in that deep, gravelly voice, her stomach began to flutter.

“Yes,” she replied, breathless. Realizing what she said, she shook her head. “I mean, no. Not
you,
per se. Anything that takes my attention away from the business is a distraction.”

His hand rose, and he placed a thumb beneath her chin to tilt her head back. How could such a gentle contact, no more than an inch of his skin touching hers, set off such a riot of emotion?

“That doesn't sound like my Susan talking.”

“I— He—” She gulped and tried again. “My father is only thinking of me. He's supported me in everything I've ever done. I wouldn't have been able to buy the clinic if it weren't for him. He's all I've got.”

“I understand what an important part of your life your father is. I've never met him, but he must be an amazing man to have raised a daughter like you.” He moved closer, so close his breath warmed her skin. “But you're wrong. He isn't all you have. You have me.” His voice lowered to a raspy whisper. “I think I'm falling in love with you, Susan.”

The words rang in her ears, resonated in her soul. An explosion of emotions burst inside her, joy and elation, wonder and awe.
He loves me. And I love him.

How will I ever get the nerve to tell Daddy?

Thumb still beneath her chin, Justin's fingers spread open and crept up her cheek to cup her face. He leaned toward her, or maybe she leaned toward him. She didn't know and didn't care. The moment their lips touched, a giddy sense of elation transported her to a place she'd only dreamed of. Her questions died, brushed away by Justin's kiss.

Perhaps mustering the nerve to tell Daddy wouldn't be so hard after all.

Chapter Twenty-One

O
n moving day Al awoke to the bedspread being ripped unceremoniously off the bed. Shivering, he opened his eyes to find Millie standing over him with a red bandana tied around her head.

“I've got to get it packed before everyone shows up.” She folded the bedspread and placed it in an open cardboard box and then pointed toward the bedside table. “There's your coffee. Your clothes are in the bathroom. Fold your pajamas and leave them on the vanity so I can pack them. Now get up, please, so I can strip the bed.”

No cheerful good morning greeting. No pleasant off-key humming as she scrambled his eggs. Just, “Up and at 'em!” like a drill sergeant. The militant Millie had been in evidence more and more in the past week. She barked orders ruthlessly, checking items off her list with a fierce flourish that left him scurrying to do her bidding. Where had his sweet Millie gone? Oh, how he missed her.

Rolling out of bed, he reached for the steaming Styrofoam cup. He missed real dishes, too. And real food. Though he now considered himself a connoisseur of fast food French fries—he preferred the thin, crispy ones that left disturbing grease marks on the napkin—he missed real potatoes whipped with cream and drenched in Millie's country gravy.

Dodging an array of cardboard boxes, he gulped coffee on the way to the bathroom to change clothes as instructed.

Contrary to the weatherman's dire predictions for a soggy Saturday,
the sun rose lemony yellow in a cloudless sky. Dressed and downstairs, Al took his bagel—untoasted, since the toaster had been packed away days ago—and a second cup of coffee outside to enjoy his last breakfast on his deck. Correction. Franklin Thacker's deck. The papers had been signed and the money exchanged yesterday.

A loud engine roared into the driveway at the front of the house as he was licking the last bit of cream cheese off his fingers. Millie stuck her head through the door.

“The boys are here with the truck.” Their sons, David and Doug, had come down from Cincinnati to help. They'd offered to pick up the U-Haul in Lexington and bring it over this morning.

Al wiped his lips and for a moment considered throwing the napkin in the yard for Thacker to clean up. Instead he wadded it into a ball and, resigned to the day, turned toward his wife.

“All right. I'm coming.”

She studied him a moment and then stepped outside, closing the door behind her. An understanding expression softened her features as she crossed the deck and wrapped her arms around him.

“I know it's hard. We've lived a lot of life in this house.”

“Yes we have.” He returned her embrace, relishing in the resurgence of the tender Millie he loved best.

She laid her head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry to leave it.”

“Are you?” Pulling back, he gazed down at her. “You seem so gung-ho about the bed and breakfast.”

“I am.” She turned in his arms and nestled back against his chest, her head fitting comfortably into the hollow beneath his chin. “But sad too. We're turning the page on an important chapter in our life.”

A note of sadness in her voice stirred in him a protective instinct that had sprung to life thirty-seven years before. He couldn't stand to see his wife, his Millie, sad. As long as he lived, his job was to make her happy.

He tightened his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “We're beginning a new chapter. A new adventure. Just you and me.”

“And Rufus,” she reminded him, a giggle in her voice.

“How could I forget Rufus?”

The door opened and the head of their oldest twin, David, emerged. “There you are. Half the town is here to help. You want to come tell us what goes where?”

Al indulged in one more hug before releasing his wife. She stepped out of his embrace, a transformation occurring in the time it took her to cross the deck door.

“Okay, let's get this done,” she commanded at the top of her lungs. “Boxes in the pickups, furniture in the van. Upstairs first.”

Smiling, Al followed, prepared to do as he was told.

Inside the house he dodged a dozen people heading upstairs. As David said, it did seem that half the town had showed up to help them move. Chuck, Fred, and Ralph balanced boxes in their arms, while Pete and Woody stood at opposite ends of the sofa, ready to pick it up. Thank goodness those two were on speaking terms again. Nodding his thanks, he picked up a pair of table lamps and strode outside.

More Creekers had gathered on the front lawn, and half a dozen pickups lined the street. Doug and David were lowering the back ramp on the U-Haul. At the end of the walkway, Little Norm stood in the bed of his pickup arranging the boxes that were handed up to him.

“Can't tell you how much we appreciate your help,” Al said as he held up the lamps.

The young man waved off his thanks. “That's what Creekers do. We help each other out.”

A car pulled into the driveway in front of the U-Haul. When the driver emerged, Al experienced a rush of annoyance. What was Thacker doing here?

Then he remembered. The man
lived
here.

Thacker caught sight of him and rounded the bumper, waving toward the activity that surrounded them. “Now that's what I call a parade.”

Al scanned the yard. People streamed out of the house, arms laden with boxes and furniture. They smiled at one another, calling out the
occasional joke, laughing and happy. Neighbors, all of them. Even better, friends.

His mood light, he managed to smile at Thacker. “You're right. Quite a parade.”

“So, what'd you think of Mrs. R's surprise?”

Al stared at the man. “What surprise?”

Thacker's eyes went wide, and he clapped both hands over his mouth. “Oops. Not a thing, Bert. Not a thing.” He looked over Al's shoulder and a frown descended on his face. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted. “Hey, watch out for that bushy thing there. You almost trampled it. And keep to the sidewalk. I don't want my grass smashed to smithereens before I even move in.”

Gritting his teeth, Al headed toward the house to retrieve another load.

Though Al would never have thought it possible, by the time the day ended the house on Mulberry Avenue was empty. The Updyke house, on the other hand, was stuffed to the bursting point. Who would have thought that the contents of their twenty-two hundred square foot home would fill a space three times that size? Of course, their furniture had to be squeezed in beside the dusty old stuff the Updykes left behind, which Millie insisted would be perfect for their bed and breakfast when it was cleaned up and refinished.

The horde had deposited the last truckload and left. Finally, he and Millie were alone. She'd made hot tea and they'd collapsed into their lounge chairs on the back porch, or verandah, as she insisted on calling it. Herbal tea, not that there was any danger of a sleepless night tonight. Exhaustion resonated in every cell of his body. From the way her eyelids drooped as she slumped in the chair beside him, Millie felt the same.

“Quite a turnout today,” he commented.

“I lost count,” Millie confessed. “I want to send everyone a
thank-you note, but I know I'll miss someone.” She paused, and then continued with a smile in her voice. “Did you see Susan and Justin kissing in the side yard?”