The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade (6 page)

The tears that sprang to her eyes were not forced. The very idea of Christmas morning without her grandbabies padding around the house in their new pajamas was enough to set her lower lip trembling. Not to have them run into Grammy and Papaw's room and leap up onto the bed, screeching excitement and urging Papaw to put on his slippers so they could go to the family room and see what Santa brought? Unthinkable.

Albert seemed unmoved by the appearance of tears in his wife's eyes. If anything, his spine stiffened even more than its already ramrod-stubborn posture. “A six thousand square foot house is absolutely ridiculous for a retired couple. Even the twenty-two hundred we have now is more than an aging couple like us needs. But at least ours is all on one level.”

Aging
couple?

Louise saved her from what may have been a sharp reply by stepping smoothly between them. “Let's take a look at the front sitting room, shall we?” The noise of her heels striking the scarred hardwood sounded magnified in the awkward silence. “Just look at the scrollwork on the lintel over the doorway. Isn't that stunning?”

She pushed open a heavy wooden door. When Millie and Violet toured the house a few days ago, they'd agreed this door should be painted white, along with the tall baseboards and other trim. Before Millie entered the sitting room she saw Albert reach over and slip a finger beneath a piece of peeling wallpaper. His lips twisted and he shook his head.

“Wallpaper is easily replaced,” she informed him as she swept past.

Inside the doorway she stepped aside and let the room work its magic on her again. This room would be the heart of their home. The tall ceilings created a spacious feeling, and the ornate crown molding flooded the room with elegance. When this busy old wallpaper was stripped off and the walls painted a charming robin's-egg blue, the carved mantle on the fireplace would become a lovely centerpiece to draw the eye. The chandelier was exquisite; those crystals would sparkle like diamonds when they were cleaned. And the bay window! She crossed the room and sank onto a dingy and faded window seat.

A puff of dust rose and set her to coughing. With a look of alarm, Albert covered his mouth with his shirt collar. “I wouldn't breathe in here if I were you. With that broken window, I'll bet the place is full of mold. Might even be black mold. It'll get in your lungs.”

“A mold test is always advisable before you buy one of these historic
homes.” Standing beside the fireplace, Louise sipped from her coffee cup. “But I haven't seen any sign of mold. That window has been tightly secured.”

Unconvinced, Albert cast one more glance around the room and made a hasty exit, his mouth still covered. Millie let out a sigh. He seemed determined to display his stubborn streak today. Though she'd fully expected resistance, in the recesses of her mind she'd harbored a hope that he would fall in love with the house when he saw it. Obviously, that wasn't going to happen.

Oh, well. That just made the task a little more difficult. She heaved herself off the window seat and headed after her husband.

As the tour dragged on, Al fell silent. He could find no new words to describe his opinions after he'd overused
dismal, disaster,
and
catastrophe-in-the-making
to the point that even Louise's ever-present smile had begun to twitch with annoyance whenever he voiced an opinion. The hopelessness of this architectural calamity transformed his initial pessimism into a gloomy melancholy. How in the world could Millie wade through all the dust and gaze down at the crumbling stone fireplaces—
seven
of them, for cryin' out loud!—and not want to run shrieking to the car?

“And here's one of my favorite features of this property,” Louise announced as she twisted the lock on a set of heavily-draped French doors in the rear wall of the dining room. “Just look at this verandah.”

Millie gasped aloud, folding her hands beneath her chin in obvious delight. Glumly, Al followed her outside. He stepped onto a cracked flagstone that shifted beneath his shoe, and he wavered to regain his balance.

“Careful there, Al,” Louise cautioned. “Some of these pavers aren't in the best shape. But I'm sure you'll agree that with some TLC and a little elbow grease, the potential for this outdoor space is practically limitless.”

He bit back a sharp retort about there not being enough elbows in the entire town to take on this project.

Actually, this was a nice back porch. It was deep and covered and ran the whole length of the house, with columns spaced evenly to support the roof. The waist-high railing needed to be replaced, of course—was there anything in this house that didn't?—but it added the homey touch he'd been unable to achieve on his own redwood deck. Maybe he should have reconsidered the inexpensive metal awning he'd had installed over his deck. This sturdy roof made the patio feel like an extension of the house. Like the front yard, the lawn back here was in desperate need of tending. But the mature oaks scattered across the property promised an abundance of shady retreats during hot summer days. He could almost see himself parked beneath that big one in the center, a glass of lemonade in one hand, a book open on his lap and bullfrogs croaking from the pond behind him.

Millie glided toward the railing, her gaze rapturous. “Just look at the lake! It's beautiful.”

“Pond,” Al corrected automatically.

“Whatever. It's big enough for a paddle boat.” She turned toward him, eyes shining. “I can see us floating out there, me wearing a sundress and a big floppy hat while you read poetry to me like you did when we were dating.”

He could have come up with a suitable rejoinder, only at the moment his mind had conjured a memory of the time she referred to. She had looked so adorable in that yellow dress and hat, and she'd gazed at him with love in her eyes. That was the day he'd decided to marry her.

He cleared his throat. “If you want poetry, I'll read it from the comfort of my recliner. That way we won't get skin cancer from overexposure to the sun.”

Judging by the sudden snap of her teeth and narrowing of her eyes, that comment had tipped the scales. She didn't bother to mask her annoyance as her chin jutted forward and she turned pointedly away from him.

The realtor avoided eye contact with either of them. “Let's have a look at the basement, shall we?”

What was the point? Anniversary or not, Al was done. They'd already wasted an hour of their Saturday tromping all over the place. Millie was mad at him, as he'd known she would be, so the rest of the day would be awkward and uncomfortable.

“Go ahead,” Al told them. “I'll wait in the car.”

Millie turned a surprised look his way. “You don't want to see the basement?”

He replied as patiently as he could. “I didn't want to see any of it. I agreed only to make you happy.” A longsuffering tone crept into his voice. “Apparently that attempt was a failure, so I see no reason to keep trying.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. A battle was taking place inside that head of hers, probably weighing the idea of blasting him with a sharp reply against the awkwardness of succumbing to an argument in front of an outsider. Propriety won, because all she did was nod once before she disappeared into the house. Louise awarded him one of her perky smiles and followed her inside.

When the door clicked shut, an empty silence pressed on his ears. How could he salvage what was left of the day and smooth her ruffled feathers? A gift? Flowers? No, she might construe those as an apology, and he refused to apologize for acting as the voice of reason. In fact, if anyone had a right to be angry, it was him. She should be trying to come up with a way to pacify him, not the other way around.

Movement near the big tree in the center of the yard caught his eye. A squirrel scampered across the ground. No, not one. Three squirrels. Just as he'd suspected, the place was infested with the pesky things.

His resolve thus strengthened, he strode around the side of the house to wait in the car.

Chapter Five

H
onestly, Violet, I've never seen him more stubborn.” Millie leaned closer, dodging a hairspray-cemented curl to speak quietly in her friend's ear. “It was so embarrassing for Louise to see him acting like a cantankerous old poop.”

They stood close together on the sidewalk outside the Woodview Community Church, waiting for the rest of their group. A line formed inside the church, worshippers waiting to shake Reverend Hollister's hand before they trickled out into the sunshine. On fine spring days most of the congregation walked to church. Today was the first time this year the weather had cooperated.

“He can be stubborn as a mule.” Violet nodded sagely.

Millie spared a smile for Cheryl Lawson, who was attempting to wrangle her boys down the walkway. “It wasn't just stubbornness,” she told Violet. “It was his whole demeanor. He never smiled once. Even when he wasn't pointing out an endless list of repairs that would need to be done, he scowled the whole time. I knew he would be pessimistic, but I expected he would at least be polite.”

“What did he think of the kitchen?” Violet asked. “Surely he admired that big stone fireplace.”

“He pointed out the crumbling mortar and said he had no idea where to find a competent stone mason who could fix it for less than five hundred dollars.” Millie twisted her lips. “I think he was keeping a running total of all the repairs in his mind during the whole tour.”

Violet shook her head. “Sounds like my Frank, God rest his soul. He was tighter than bark on a log.”

Millie spied Albert shaking the Reverend's hand. He descended the steps and joined a small cluster of people talking with Doc and Lizzie Forsythe on the sidewalk. “There he is. Don't mention the house, okay?”

“My lips are sealed.” Violet used her fingers to twist an imaginary lock on her thin lips. “I won't let the cat out of the bag. I'll be quiet as a church mouse.” She smiled, obviously pleased at the opportunity to use three appropriate clichés at once.

They joined the group in time to hear Jacob Pulliam say, “I can't believe you're really gonna do it.”

“You act like this is a surprise.” Doc nodded a greeting at Millie and Violet as he answered. “I've been talking about retiring for years.”

“He's been
promising
for years,” Lizzie corrected with a smile at her husband. “Ever since his mother moved to Florida. It's long overdue, if you ask me.”

Millie looked at her boss. “Does that mean the meeting the other night went well?” She'd known a potential buyer was coming to see the animal clinic, but since she didn't work on Saturdays she hadn't heard how things turned out.

Doc nodded. “She called last night with an offer.”

“
She
?” Fred Rightmier's eyebrows arched high on his shiny red forehead. “You're selling out to a
woman
?”

Violet jerked upright. “You don't think a woman can be a veterinarian?”

Fred didn't back down under her sharp stare. “'Course they can, but we're used to a guy, is all. Not sure Goose Creek's ready for a woman doctor, even an animal doctor.”

“Careful, Fred,” cautioned Albert mildly. “Your narrowmindedness is showing.”