The Room with the Second-Best View (9 page)

As he rose, the front doorbell chimed. Millie's eyes went wide, and her good hand flew to her hair. “I don't want anyone to see me looking like this.”

“I'll get rid of them. Lulu took me unawares. I'm more prepared now.”

He started for the front, but before he'd even crossed the bedroom floor a voice called from the hallway.

“Yoohoo! Are you decent?”

The stiffness melted from Millie's body. “It's only Violet.” She raised her voice and shouted, “We're in the bedroom.”

Moments later Violet swept into the room. She spared a quick nod at Al and then focused her attention on Millie. A frown creased her forehead below a tight row of curls the color of gun metal.

“Gracious, she was right. You look like a wraith.”

Millie raised a hand self-consciously to her cheek. “Who's
she
?”

“That Thacker woman, of course.” Violet crossed the bedroom, plucked at the skirt of Millie's housedress, and then inspected her hair. “She caught me in the yard before I saw her coming. Told me she'd been here and you look like death. Made it sound as if you're wasting away and barely able to hobble out of bed.”

“Why would she say that?” Millie looked as dumbfounded as Al felt. “We had a nice visit this morning. I thought we might even become friends.”

“Oh, you're her friend all right.” Violet shook her head, distaste apparent on her face. “She wants to make sure you're taken care of in your hour of need. Told me she was about to make some calls to the church office to let them know you could use help with meals.”

Al brightened. Though Millie was becoming acclimated to using one hand, she still relied on him to do the chopping and mixing required to cook. Under her eagle eye, of course. Even with her guidance, last night's cheeseburgers and salad left his taste buds feeling deprived. Eating a meal made by someone other than himself sounded like a far more enjoyable alternative.

Apparently Millie didn't think so. Horror crept over her features. “Oh, no! How long do you think I have?”

“I hurried over as soon as I could get away from her.” Violet glanced at her watch. “I'd say the first will arrive within the hour.”

Al shook his head. At times he suspected women had developed a form of communication not detectable by the male of the species. Some sort of gender-specific telepathy, maybe. Though he stood right here beside them, they both seemed to know what the other was thinking, while he hadn't a clue. “What do you mean by
the first
?”

They turned incredulous stares on him.

“The first of the casserole brigade, of course.” Violet plucked at a limp lock of Millie's hair. “We might have time, if we hurry.”

Millie nodded. “I'll plug in the hot rollers.”

Al stepped out of the way when Violet headed for the closet. “I'll help you change. What about the straw skirt and pink blouse?”

The room became a bustle of female activity. Al stood in the doorway, watching. What was the casserole brigade, and why would Millie need to dress up for it? Shaking his head, he left the room unnoticed and headed for the hall closet, where Millie kept the cleaning supplies. If something called a “brigade” was on its way, perhaps being upstairs with a week's worth of dust wasn't a bad idea.

 

Lulu Thacker's Parsnip Maple Cake

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

½ tsp. baking powder

½ tsp. baking soda

¼ tsp. salt

7 T. butter, room temperature, divided

⅔
cup brown sugar

6 T. maple syrup, divided

½ tsp. imitation maple flavoring

1 egg

½ cup sour cream

⅓
cup dried cranberries

2 cups peeled and shredded parsnips (approx. 3-4 parsnips)

Approx. ½ cup chopped pecans (add an additional
⅓
cup chopped pecans if you desire nuts in the cake)

½ cup confectioner's sugar

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease and flour the bottom and sides of an 8 × 8 glass cake pan.

Combine flour, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. Set aside.

Cream 4 tablespoons butter with brown sugar in a mixer bowl. Turn on the mixer and add 4 tablespoons maple syrup, 1 tablespoon at a time, and then the maple flavoring. (If you use real maple syrup, you may eliminate the imitation maple flavoring.) Mix on medium speed until light and creamy. Add the egg and continue beating until blended.

Add about half of the flour mixture, continuing to beat until combined. When that is blended, add half the sour cream and keep beating. Alternate the rest of the flour and sour cream. Turn off the mixer and fold in the parsnips, cranberries, and (optional)
⅓
cup pecans.

Spread in the prepared pan. Bake for about 25 minutes or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Run a knife around the inside edges and cool in pan.

Maple Frosting:
In a small mixing bowl, beat 3 tablespoons butter and the confectioner's sugar until creamy. Continue to beat while drizzling in 2 to 3 tablespoons syrup until desired consistency. Spread over cooled cake and sprinkle ½ cup pecans over the top.

Chapter Six

W
hen Susan escorted Jeannie Quisenberry and her dog from the exam room to the reception desk, she cast a quick glance into the waiting rooms. Two cat owners sat in the area on the left, chatting quietly. The Wainright boys had taken possession of one corner of the Playful Pup room. A variety of action figures, Legos, and Matchbox cars surrounded them. At the moment they both knelt on the floor, using the seats of a couple of hard plastic chairs as desks. The younger's fingers tapped the screen of a tablet while the older sketched on a piece of paper. Though Susan might have suggested that they keep the place a bit tidier, at least they weren't disturbing anyone.

Jeannie extracted a credit card from her wallet and handed it to Alice. “When do I bring him back?”

“Today he got the last of his puppy shots. If he develops any problems, give us a call. Otherwise I'll see him again when he's a year old.” Susan knelt to give the puppy a scratch behind the ears. “You'll be a big fella then, won't you?”

“And hopefully he'll be potty trained.” Jeannie eyed her pet with a scowl that failed to hide her fondness. “Sorry about the mess in your exam room.”

Susan chuckled and straightened. “Trust me, we're used to messes around here.”

An indulgent smile came over the woman's face. “And how long until the wedding?”

“Twenty-eight days.” Susan returned the smile, though with a touch of caution. After Justin's public proposal at the community Fourth of July softball game last summer, half the town felt like they'd played a part in the engagement. One reason why Susan was determined to keep the ceremony private. If she invited half the town, the other half would feel slighted. Best to invite no one at all rather than try to appease several hundred small-town egos.

“How exciting.” Jeannie grinned. “The big day will be here before you know it.”

As she turned to go, Susan's heart executed a crazy flutter. In twenty-eight days she would become Justin's wife. Susan Hinkle. Susan
Jeffries
Hinkle.
Doctor
Susan Hinkle. A notebook on her bedside table at home contained a few dozen practice signatures, but the one she'd scrawled most often, the one she preferred, was
Mrs. Justin Hinkle.

With a farewell wave for Jeannie, Susan picked up the chart of the patient waiting in Exam Room One.

Alice rose from her chair. “Did she say Room Two needs cleaning?”

“If you don't mind.” Susan couldn't stop a hint of apology from creeping into her tone. One of the most difficult things she'd had to learn about running a business was to delegate, especially the less pleasant tasks. She'd much rather do everything herself rather than have Alice or Millie feel that they were being taken advantage of. But she'd learned the hard way that one person could not run an animal clinic. Not efficiently, anyway.

“Of course not.” Alice stood, and directed a stern comment toward her sons. “I'll be right back. Don't move.”

The two spoke without looking up from their activities.

“'K, Mom.”

“We won't.”

When Alice disappeared through the door to the right of the reception area, Susan spoke to the women in the Kuddly Kitties section. “Sorry for your wait. We'll be right with you.”

Both ladies assured her they had not been waiting long and returned to their conversation. Turning to go, Susan hesitated a moment before approaching the boys in the other waiting room.

“You two are being really quiet. Thank you.”

They twisted toward her and turned nearly identical gazes her way. The two could have been twins, though eleven-year-old Forest stood a few inches taller than Heath, the younger by a year. Both sported full heads of thick, unruly locks several shades darker than their mother's and a smattering of freckles across pert noses.

“Mom said if we bother you we're grounded from TV for a month,” Forest informed her.

Heath added, “And we'll get a whupping too.”

Forest regarded his brother. “Losing TV's worse 'cause it lasts longer.”

“Yeah,” his brother agreed. “'Sides, Mom's whuppings ain't bad unless she gets the big spoon.”

Susan cleared her throat. She had never received a spanking as a child since Daddy did not believe in corporal punishment. But she'd been a calm, obedient girl. Poor Alice had her hands full raising five children on her own. What had happened to these boys' father? Alice had never said, and Susan didn't want to be a prying boss.

“What are you doing there, Heath?” She nodded toward the electronic tablet.

“Killing zombies.” He glanced at the device and then threw his head back and let out an anguished cry. “Noooo! The zombies ate my brains while I wasn't looking.”

Stomach slightly queasy, Susan turned to Forest. “And what are you drawing?” Hopefully something besides zombies.

“A horse.” He held it aloft. “Only it looks more like a dog. I can't get the legs right.”

Susan made a show of inspecting the drawing. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“Nah, it's stupid.” The boy's shoulders slumped. “And I don't got no more paper.” He raised wide hazel eyes to hers. “Could I get some from the printer stand over there so's I can try again?”

If it would keep the child quiet, he could have a whole ream of printer paper. “Sure. Help yourself.”

With a farewell nod, she headed toward the back, her next patient's chart in her hand. Justin was probably right. They weren't bad kids. They knew how to behave themselves when they wanted to.

The big tree in front of the animal clinic had lots of good climbing limbs once you shinnied up the lower part. Forest planted his foot and tested the branch he'd just reached, one arm around the trunk.