The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade by Virginia Smith Page A

smile. “I’ve been looking into them, and I think we can pick up a really nice used one when we’re ready to buy.”
    Millie sat up straight. “I refuse to spend my retirement traipsing around the country in a trailer. I gave up camping years ago.”
    â€œIt’s not like tent camping,” he explained. “It’s more like—”
    â€œI won’t do it.” She folded her arms across her chest with a slap. “End of discussion.”
    Al’s irritation returned with a vengeance. “Oh, I forgot. You’d rather bankrupt us buying an ancient money pit and turn us into servants for pampered rich people who enjoy throwing their money away on horse races.”
    â€œAt least we’d sleep in a proper bed every night,” she snapped.
    A noise penetrated the angry blood pounding in Al’s ears. Voices. Someone was shouting at them. He pulled his glare away from Millie to look over his shoulder. On the shore stood Ben and his wife, along with two preteen boys. They were all waving their hands in the air, yelling his name.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with them?” Millie asked in a tone only slightly less aggravated.
    â€œI don’t know.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “What’s the problem?”
    â€œWe forgot to tell you about the—”
    His warning was drowned out by a loud noise. Al whipped around to locate the source. The canoe floated near the center of the lake, a few feet from an odd-looking pipe that protruded a foot or so from the surface.
    A fountain.
    Water gushed from the pipe and leaped twelve feet into the air before succumbing to gravity. The resulting shower was quite beautiful glistening in the sunlight above their heads.
    It was also very cold.

Chapter Six

    S usan paused for a moment on the doorstep of the Goose Creek Animal Clinic to brush at a crease in her lab coat. What was behind this unaccustomed twinge of nerves? Her education was finished, her training thorough, and her reference materials extensive. As Daddy assured her on the phone last night, there was nothing she would encounter in any Goose Creek pet that she couldn’t handle. Thus fortified, she drew in a breath and reached for the knob.
    The door jerked inward. She caught a glimpse of black fur an instant before a weight slammed into her chest. Thrown backward, her foot grappled for balance but instead of the porch found only air. For a moment she was airborn and then, with a thud that knocked the breath from her lungs, she landed on her backside in the grass and lay still, gasping.
    â€œBoomer, no! Bad dog! Baaad dog.”
    A commanding female voice penetrated the fog in her oxygen-deprived brain. At the same moment, she realized why she couldn’t breathe. There was a bear on her chest.
    The creature was heaved backward and, blinking to clear her vision, she struggled to sit up. Not a bear. A dog. A giant dog, straining at the end of a leash, a thick string of slime dangling from one glistening jowl.
    The other end of the leash was held by a woman with a stump-shaped body and a cap of steel-gray hair. She peered over the top ofthe dog’s head at Susan, and then turned to yell over her shoulder in a voice that rivaled a lumberjack’s.
    â€œMillie, you’d best get on out here. Boomer’s done kilt the new doc.”
    Another woman bustled through the doorway, caught sight of Susan, and rushed forward. “Oh my goodness. Are you hurt? Should we call 911?”
    Susan lay there a moment, assessing her injuries. Arms and legs all worked. Her backside had taken the brunt of her weight and she’d probably have a bruise, but nothing felt broken. Cautiously, she struggled to sit up. Thank goodness she’d landed on grass instead of the sidewalk.
    â€œMaybe you should stay there for a minute,” the newcomer advised, her concerned gaze sweeping over Susan. “I’ll go get Doc.”
    â€œNo,