Waiting for a View Read online

  Copyright © 2012 by Debby Mayne

  All rights reserved.

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-4336-7899-8

  Published by B&H Publishing Group

  Nashville, Tennessee

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the B&H Publishing Group.

  I would like to dedicate this book to my daughters Alison Ingraham and Lauren Carroll and to my granddaughters Emma and Sophia.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dear Reader

  Discussion Questions

  Sample Chapter from Take the Trophy and Run (book 2 in the Bloomfield series)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my super fabulous agent Tamela Hancock Murray who works hard to make sure I stay busy.

  Thanks to Julie Gwinn for “getting” the Bloomfield concept and to B&H for embracing it. I appreciate the whole production team for all their hard work and dedication to creating and designing the best product possible for our readers.

  I also want to thank the rest of the Bloomfield authors, Gail Sattler, Kathi Macias, Martha Rogers, Trish Perry, Miralee Ferrell, Jenness Walker, and Tracy Bowen. Working with all of you is a blast!

  As we grow older, God dims our vision

  so we can’t see the dust.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sherry wiped her palms on the side of her shirt as she approached Brad Henderson who was standing a couple of feet from a row of cards in the shop she managed. The two-day-old stubble on his face and slightly tousled but short medium brown hair gave him a rugged look.

  “Need help?” she asked.

  “More than you can imagine.” He turned and pulled out one of the cards before putting it back, shaking his head and making a face. “We’re throwing a little one-year anniversary party for our receptionist this afternoon, and I have no idea what kind of card would be appropriate.” He cast a helpless look in her direction. “I’m sort of lost when it comes to this type of thing.”

  “We have cards for practically every occasion.” She motioned for him to follow her around to the next row as the door chime rang. “Why don’t you browse a bit while I see if I can help the next customer?”

  He winked, and her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might jump out of her chest. The last few times she’d been around Brad, he’d had the strangest effect on her.

  “Naomi, hi.” Sherry glanced at the birdcage in Naomi’s hand. “What are you doing with Andy’s bird?”

  “Can you keep an eye on him for a while?”

  “Yes, of course.” When Naomi didn’t move, suspicion rose. “What else is on your mind?”

  “I’m glad you asked.” Naomi McCord plunked the birdcage on the floor beside the register and gently placed her crepe-skinned hand on Sherry Butler’s arm. The book Sherry had been reading between customers fell to the floor. “I think it’s time you face reality.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re not getting any younger, and it’s time to let go of some of your . . .” She offered an apologetic look, and Sherry braced herself for the inevitable bomb. “. . . hang-ups. Oh, by the way, thanks for agreeing to watch Murray. Andy, silly man that he is, took advantage of my bleedin’ heart for all animals with a face. The fellas at the fire hall said Murray is only allowed there when Andy’s on duty, so he brought him to me. Problem is, my apartment is small, and I can’t sleep with him ruffling his feathers all night.”

  Murray flapped his wings and squawked.

  “I—”

  Sherry wasn’t able to get a second word out before another customer sounded the chimes as she entered the card shop. Murray belted out an ear-piercing screech that sounded more like a cat with its tail caught in a door than a full-grown parrot. Naomi patted Sherry’s shoulder and backed toward the door. “We all have hang-ups, sweetie, so don’t be too worried. Oh, Brad Henderson has been asking about you. I think the two of you would make such a sweet couple.”

  Matchmaking. Again. Sherry sighed. “Brad and I have always been friends, that’s all.”

  “Right.” Naomi’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “All I ask is that you go home and think about making some changes in your life . . . especially your love life.” She glanced around the shop before settling her gaze back on Sherry. “You’ve gone how long without a date?”

  “A while.” Sherry’s voice came out in a squeak, so she cleared her throat and glanced over at Murray the parrot who preened his feathers.

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Naomi’s eyes widened as she looked behind Sherry. “Brad! How long you been standing there?”

  “A few minutes. So how’re you doing, Naomi? Working on anything important lately?” Sherry saw the twinkle in his eye. “Sounds like you might be.”

  Naomi placed one hand on the door and wiggled the fingers on her other hand in a wave. “Buh-bye, Sherry. Call if you need me.” As the door closed, she added, “Andy should be by to pick up Murray sometime the day after tomorrow. Love you!”

  Sherry lifted a finger to say she couldn’t watch Andy’s parrot that long, but it was too late. Naomi had already disappeared down the sidewalk.

  Brad chuckled. “That’s one woman who knows what she wants, and she’ll do whatever she has to do to get it.”

  “Sorry about that.” Sherry glanced down at the bird and sighed. “I’m afraid I know nothing about birds.”

  “I haven’t seen Murray in a while.” Brad leaned down and looked the bird in the eye. “So how have you been, big boy?”

  “Big boy . . . squawk . . . big boy.”

  “Smart bird.” Brad chuckled. “In case you didn’t already know this, you need to be very careful about what you say around him.”

  Sherry nodded. “I can see that. He has a big mouth . . . er, beak.”

  “The better to kiss you with . . . squawk . . .” Murray made a smooching sound.

  Brad lifted his eyebrows and backed toward the door. “I better get back to the office before they send someone looking for me.”

  “We need backup . . . squawk . . . send somebody quick.”

  Brad waved as he shoved the door open to leave. “Have fun, you two.”

  Sherry let out a deep sigh once she and Murray were alone. Brad’s visit had her senses on overdrive, but Naomi’s overt comments embarrassed her. What a morning.

  Murray squawked. She jumped. “Calm down, Murray.”

  “Cool, calm, and collected . . . squawk . . .”

  As much as she wanted to tell Naomi she couldn’t watch the bird, she felt as though she owed the woman something. While her own mother was busy working and enabling her alcoholic dad, Naomi stepped up and took her to church, remembered special occasions her parents had forgotten, and provided a much-needed shoulder to cry on. Sherry looked back on those days and realized her mother had just given lip service when she complained about Naomi’s interference. She didn’t want anyone thinking she’d voluntarily relinquished her responsibilities as a mother.

  Now that Sherry’s parents had passed, she lived alone in the family home with its curling shingles, squeaky do
ors, and peeling linoleum tiles, and Naomi still brought a maternal influence to their relationship. Sometimes she came across as gruff, but Sherry had no doubt the woman loved her.

  The chimes sounded again. Sherry turned her attention to the woman who’d entered with a little girl who appeared to be around three or four. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a card for my aunt.”

  The sound of Murray rattling around in his cage elicited a sour look from Sherry. She sucked in a breath and tried her best to concentrate on her customer, but her still-frazzled nerves made it difficult. “Funny, Christian, or serious?”

  The customer cut a nervous glance toward Murray before she turned her back to Sherry and shrugged. “Christian, please.”

  “Okay, let’s see what we have.” Sherry led the woman to the Christian section, and the little girl skipped along behind her. “You’ll probably find the perfect card here.”

  The woman smiled, but before she had a chance to say a word, the little girl yanked her hand from her mother’s and bolted toward a display of stuffed animals, knocking them over and sending them skittering across the aisle. She examined the animals and finally picked up a stuffed dog. “I want this puppy.”

  “No, sweetie, not today.”

  Sherry scurried toward the mess. “I’ll straighten up here while you decide which card you want.”

  As she piled the animals back on the display rack, she heard the woman and her daughter arguing about the puppy. “But I want it. You promised you’d get me a treat if I was good.”

  “Yes, but not something so expensive.” She leaned over and whispered in her daughter’s ear.

  The little girl looked up at Sherry, frowned, and then handed her mother the stuffed dog. The way her bottom lip jutted out reminded Sherry of the many times her dad had told her to be careful or she’d trip over her lip.

  “Thank you, sweetie. I’ll buy you a treat at the Dollar Store.”

  Sherry forced a smile. “I’ll wait for you at the desk. Just let me know if I can help you with anything.”

  As Sherry waited, her mind drifted back to her conversation with Naomi, a well-meaning doyenne of Bloomfield who had her nose in everyone’s business—and Sherry’s more than most.

  “Mommy, if I’m real good, can I have one of those candies up there?” The sound of the little girl approaching yanked Sherry back to the moment.

  “Murray wants candy!” the bird squawked.

  The child jumped and ran around behind her mother. “Mommy, that bird’s scary.”

  “He’s harmless.” At least Sherry hoped he was. She extracted a wrapped candy from the jar and turned to the girl’s mother with a questioning look. A siren-like sound blasted from Murray’s beak. Sherry cast an apologetic look toward the woman. “His owner is a fireman.”

  The woman paused for a second, gave the bird a nervous glance, and nodded. “Are you sure about the bird? I mean, he’s awful loud.”

  “I’m pretty sure, but I wouldn’t test him,” Sherry said as she walked around from behind the counter and bent down to offer the child the candy. “Here you go. It’s butterscotch.”

  Instead of taking the candy, the girl stomped her feet and scowled. “I don’t want burr-scotch. I want peppermint.”

  “Oh.” Sherry glanced up at the mom for direction. When the woman nodded toward the jar and pointed, Sherry swapped out the candies and offered the child what she said she wanted. If she ever had children, they’d be a lot better behaved than this one. And grateful too.

  “Murray wants can—”

  “No!” Sherry shook her finger at Murray. “You can’t have any candy. Now be quiet.”

  “Mommy, that lady just yelled at the birdie.” The child’s bottom lip puckered. “She’s mean.”

  Sherry slowly shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t normally—”

  The little girl snatched the candy from Sherry’s hand, jumped back to her mother’s side, ripped off the cellophane, and popped it into her mouth. The mom seemed distracted as she paid for the card and left. Neither of them said a single thank-you.

  Sherry might have grown up with the town drunk for a dad and a champion enabler for a mom, but they always insisted on good manners from their only child. She let out a sigh of relief when the mom and her little girl left the store.

  Even after experiences like this, there were times when Sherry felt a maternal tug—like when she would look down at a baby, only to be met by a gummy grin. She smiled, but when reality hit, she shuddered and came to her senses. At thirty-eight years of age, Sherry needed to purge thoughts like that from her mind. She didn’t even have a man in her life, let alone a husband. All her romantic encounters these days were in the pages of her favorite Christian romance novels.

  “Murray wants candy.”

  Sherry glared at the bird. “You are nothing but a royal pain.”

  “No pain, no gain . . . squawk . . . no pain, no gain.”

  “Enough!”

  “Can’t get enough . . . squawk! . . . Can’t get enough!” With that, Murray nuzzled his beak beneath one wing and pretended to hide.

  The rest of the morning was normal. Well, normal for Bloomfield’s Main Street. Sherry finished reading a chapter and closed the book when customers arrived. A couple of the women from the Bloomfield Garden Club stopped by early in the afternoon, disagreeing about the current Yard of the Month award.

  Sherry grinned as they approached the register. “Good afternoon, ladies. How may I help you?”

  Helen Groves plopped a basket on the counter and slowly removed the cloth napkin, revealing the pastries underneath. “I know how much you like bear claws, and we had some extras in the bakery this morning.”

  Bookstore owner Elsie Warren rolled her eyes. “She’s just politickin’.”

  “Am not.” Helen scowled at Elsie before turning back to Sherry, a grin widening her lips a tad too much. It made Sherry’s cheeks ache just looking at her. “But we would like to know what you think about two finalists who tied, so we brought some pictures.” She cast a warning glance at Elsie as she pulled an envelope from her oversized handbag. “Take a peek at these.”

  Sherry accepted the envelope and removed the pictures that had been taken of two different yards from several angles. “I don’t recognize either of these, but I like the one with the roses and hostas.”

  “But don’t you think the country garden in this one looks nice with the zinnias, periwinkle, and Lamb’s Ear?” The disappointment on Helen’s face confirmed which yard each of the women liked.

  “Oh, of course. The Lamb’s Ear adds a certain softness.” Sherry glanced up at Elsie whose self-satisfied grin obviously grated on Helen’s last nerve. She shrugged. “I really don’t know, ladies, and since I’m vice president of the garden club, I need to be impartial. In fact, I think I’ve already said too much.”

  Helen fluttered her fingers in the air. “Oh, don’t be silly. Pamela has never minded giving her opinion, and she’s the president.”

  As much as Sherry appreciated Pamela Jasper’s hard work, she knew how Pamela had to have her hand in every single pie. Most of the garden club meetings turned into The Pamela Jasper Show.

  “Both of these are very pretty.” Sherry glanced back and forth between the pictures as the women stared at her, waiting for a verdict. “Why don’t we choose two winners this month?”

  Helen grabbed the pictures from the counter and stuffed them back into the envelope. “Because we’ve never done that before.”

  “That’s not a good reason. I just happen to like Sherry’s idea.” Elsie placed a fist on her hip and tried to bob her head, but she looked more like a goose with a crick in its neck. Sherry had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “You’re such a fuddy-duddy, Helen Groves.”

  Murray seized the opportuni
ty to make his presence known. “Fuddy-duddy . . . squawk . . . fuddy-duddy.”

  “Hush, Murray.”

  “Hush, little baby . . . squawk . . . Hush, little baby!”

  Helen looked dangerously close to laughing, but she had the good graces not to. “So are you going to develop some spine and help make a decision?”

  Elsie rolled her eyes. “Leave the poor girl alone. Can’t you see she doesn’t want to play favorites? Now you’re being a bully.”

  Helen reared back and jabbed her thumb to her chest. “I’m being a bully? You’re just pickin’ that yard because you think it’ll get you more votes when the board election rolls around. You’re nothin’ but a politician.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Helen.”

  “You’re the one—”

  Another customer entered the store, so Sherry left the two women at the desk, still arguing about being a fuddy-duddy, stick-in-the-mud, glad-hand politician. If she hadn’t been in the garden club for so long, she’d wonder how they ever made decisions on anything.

  By the time she finished cashing out the customer, the two women had come to an agreement. Helen lifted her chin and announced, “We’ve decided to start from scratch and see if there’s something we missed in the other finalists. I almost voted for Andy Barnhardt’s yard, but I didn’t ’cause he won this time last year.”

  “Andy Barnhardt. Hey, there, handsome.” Murray paused and squawked. “Lookin’ good, young man.”

  Helen lifted an eyebrow and looked over at Murray as though she just realized he was there. “Isn’t that Andy’s bird?”

  “Of course, it is,” Elsie said. “And he obviously learns everything he knows from Andy.”

  “Someone’s ego got the best of him, and his bird’s spillin’ the beans.” Helen rolled her eyes and laughed. “So what do you think, ladies? Should we give him the award again this soon?”

  Elsie nodded. “If she changes her vote, and I change mine, we won’t have to run to Pamela for a tie-breaker.” She cleared her throat. “And I don’t think anyone will be upset about giving this to Andy since his yard is always in the running.”