Waiting for a View Read online

  That made about as much sense to Sherry as anything else from the garden club, so she shrugged. “Then it looks like the winner has been decided.”

  Helen held up a finger. “But I’m still not sure.”

  “C’mon, Helen.” Elsie headed toward the door. “I need to get back to the bookstore. It’ll take you forever to make up your feeble mind.”

  “Feeble mind? You should be talking. Why, I—”

  Sherry held up one of the bear claws. “Thanks for the pastries, Helen. See you both at the meeting tonight.”

  As soon as the shop door closed behind the ladies, she sank her teeth into the bear claw and sighed as it dissolved in her mouth. Nothing tasted better than a pastry from Groves Bakery . . . except maybe one of the delicious cobblers or pies from the Pink Geranium. Sherry sure was glad she was blessed with slender genes.

  At the end of the day, Sherry locked the shop, lifted Murray’s cage, and walked home. Her parents had bought one of the small houses on the street that ran parallel to Main Street before she was born, so she was able to leave her ten-year-old clunker in the driveway and walk to work. As she made her way up the sidewalk to the front porch, she glanced around at the vacant flowerbeds that had let her down. Again. All those perennials she’d ordered from the garden catalog three years ago turned out to be duds. It was downright embarrassing for the vice president of the Bloomfield Garden Club to have one of the plainest yards in town . . . and the only one who’d never even finaled in the Yard of the Month competition. Sherry knew that Naomi had been her ticket to join the garden club, and once she got in, her willingness to do anything she was asked had earned her the vice-presidency.

  Weeds threatened to overtake her lawn, but at least they were green, and from the street, no one could tell it wasn’t grass. The flowerpots flanking the front stoop contained the only color she’d successfully managed to coax from her plantings. Mounds of purple petunias overflowed from the pots. Sherry stopped, put Murray’s cage on the stoop, and deadheaded a few flowers to encourage new growth before unlocking her door.

  “Murray wants candy.”

  “How many times do I have to say no?”

  “Just say no . . . squawk . . . just say no.”

  Sherry sighed as she carried Murray into the house and placed his cage on the hall table. She had no idea how she managed to get snookered into bird-sitting. And Naomi, a bleeding heart? Meddlesome do-gooder with an agenda, maybe, but not bleeding heart.

  PAMELA POUNDED THE GAVEL, announcing the opening of the Bloomfield Garden Club meeting. Sherry sat beside Pamela and looked out over the attendees. They had a rather large membership, but only a quarter of them regularly attended meetings. And those who did had more say in town matters than most of the folks on the city council.

  As Sherry scanned the crowd, her gaze settled on Bloomfield Gazette reporter Bailey McCullough, who judiciously took notes, only glancing up once in a while. Sherry knew that Bailey would much rather cover a hard news beat, but since Bloomfield rarely had enough hard news for the more senior reporter, all that was available for Bailey was society news.

  “So are we in agreement that Andy Barnhardt wins this month?” Pamela lifted her gavel once again and held it in the air.

  Sherry looked at Helen, who nodded, and then at Elsie, who shrugged. Pamela lowered her gavel with a bang, letting everyone know the decision was final.

  “New business, anyone?”

  Each committee member gave a report. The programs were all planned, the organizers knew what to do, and the coffers were in excellent shape. Everything was the same—exactly the way Sherry liked it.

  “Now for the most important issue . . .” Pamela narrowed her eyes and scanned the room with her steely gaze that indicated one thing: She meant business, and there was no room for discussion. “For far too many years, we’ve hovered slightly below the 10,000 population mark, and it’s time we got serious.”

  “But Pamela, we’re doing everything we can,” Helen said. “What more do you want from us?”

  “We need to do more.” Pamela paused long enough for fear to set in among her subjects. When she finally spoke, everyone sat ramrod straight. “What I want from you all is everything you’ve got. This is serious, folks. Not only do we have the opportunity to get a mention in Best Small Towns in America, we’ll get to change that sad old sign leading into town.”

  “But we’re in Best Tiny Towns in America,” Elsie argued.

  Pamela visibly shuddered. “A small town is an upgrade from a tiny town, and we’ll get more attention from serious vacationers and businesses.”

  “And our out-of-town families won’t be able to make fun of us for living in a Podunk town,” Naomi added with a throaty laugh. “But quite honestly, folks, I really don’t give a hoot. I like living in a tiny town.”

  “Naomi.” Pamela glared at her as her words came out in a growl. “It’s obvious that some of us do care what other people think, unlike some people.” She looked Naomi up and down before scanning the crowd.

  “Are you saying—?” Naomi stopped herself before causing a ruckus.

  Everyone knew that Pamela wouldn’t back down from an argument, and Naomi was the only member who’d argue. But even Naomi knew enough to pick her arguments. Pamela had made her point that more businesses used the Best Small Towns in America book than the Tiny Towns edition for choosing a new location for their companies, and she’d reasoned that it would add stability and culture to Bloomfield.

  As the meeting wore on, Sherry worked hard to stay focused on the business at hand. Every now and then, she caught Naomi staring at her, making her squirm. Most of the garden club members at one time or another had acknowledged that Sherry was stuck in a rut and lacked a love life, but they didn’t harp on it as much as Naomi did. Naomi’s mission: Fix anything broken and tweak what wasn’t. The question in Sherry’s mind was whether she was a fix or a tweak.

  The low roar of voices grew louder, until Pamela banged her gavel again. “How do you expect to get anything done while gabbing your heads off? We have some serious issues to discuss.” She looked around the room. “Do you realize we’re only twenty-five people shy of having 10,000 residents in Bloomfield? All it’ll take to get us there is a big family moving in and some kids coming home from college to stay . . . and a couple of new babies being born.”

  Helen cupped her hands in the form of a megaphone. “What do you expect us to do about that? Most of us are way past our childbearing years.”

  “You know what I’m talking about, Helen. We need to encourage some of the newlyweds and show them that the sooner they start their families, the better off they’ll be.”

  Naomi snorted. “Who’ll be better off?”

  Helen lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Maybe we should build a new playground to attract the little ones.”

  Pamela gazed off toward the back wall before letting a smile form slowly on her lips as she nodded. “Not a bad idea.”

  Sherry glanced over at Bailey whose hand raced across the page as she took notes. No telling how this meeting would look in the next biweekly issue of the Bloomfield Gazette. Folks who’d always lived in Bloomfield wouldn’t bat an eye, but newcomers . . . well, they might have second thoughts about the sanity of their neighbors.

  “Why don’t we form a committee to look into this?” Naomi asked.

  “Good idea.” Pamela gestured around the room. “We need a committee chairperson, so I’ll appoint Sherry Butler.”

  Sherry’s chin slackened, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The next topic Pamela brought up was the church potluck. This time everyone volunteered.

  As Pamela spoke, she waved her talon-like fingernails in the air, showing off her jeweled manicure. Nothing about Pamela was natural, but no one expected anything different from her.

  Sherry tried to esc
ape as soon as the meeting ended, but Naomi caught up with her right outside the door. “Not so fast, lightning-legs. Have you thought about what I said this morning?”

  “Yes, and I promise to give everything you said some thought.”

  “Don’t wait long, young lady. I’d hate to see you go through the rest of your life with regrets.”

  Sherry smiled, gave Naomi a hug, and thanked her for caring. She’d learned early in life that with every argument came a fifty-fifty chance of losing, so she didn’t put up a fuss if she could get away with it, and there was an even better chance of the issue being forgotten.

  THE REST OF THE week was nerve-wracking. Every time the chimes sounded at the door of the Bloomfield Card Shop, Sherry jumped, thinking it might be Naomi checking up on her. But it never was.

  By the time Sunday rolled around, Sherry was a nervous ball of anticipation. Naomi never missed church, and Sherry knew better than to avoid going to the one place that mattered most, or she’d have a whole group of folks stopping by to check up on her later . . . with Naomi leading the charge.

  Sherry made her way toward the center of the sanctuary and into the pew where she sat every Sunday morning. She’d barely gotten comfortable when a tiny familiar voice piped up.

  “Mommy, there’s that lady who gave me candy at the store.” When Sherry turned around, the little girl leaned into her mother. “Remember, the one you said is prob’ly an old maid?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lacy!” The woman’s face drained of all color as her lips tightened in an apologetic look toward Sherry. “I am so sorry, ma’am.”

  If the old maid comment didn’t make Sherry cringe, being called ma’am certainly did. “Don’t worry about it.”

  At least they were in church. That counted for something, didn’t it? She forced a smile and turned around to face the front, until she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she glanced back.

  The woman smiled. “By the way, my name is Gina Maples, and this is my daughter, Lacy.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Sherry Butler.”

  “Do you own the card shop?”

  Sherry shook her head. “No, I’m just the manager.” Awkward silence fell for a second before Pamela’s command to recruit new folks popped into her head. “Are you a new Bloomfield resident, or are you visiting someone?”

  Gina opened her handbag, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and unfolded it. “I saw this and thought it seemed like a nice place to raise a family, so Lacy and I are here to check it out.”

  Sherry recognized the flyer as one sent out by the garden club to attract new residents. Every time they’d come close to meeting the 10,000-resident goal, someone picked up and moved, or one of the elderly residents in the Lake Bliss Retirement Village headed home to Jesus, knocking the number back down.

  “Are you originally from here?” Gina asked.

  “Yes.” Sherry really didn’t feel like chatting, but she didn’t want to be rude.

  “That’s nice. You probably have lots of family in town.”

  Sherry shook her head. “No, I live alone in the old house my parents left when they passed.”

  “Oh.” Gina appeared to search for something to say as the organist started playing. “Sounds like church is ready to start.”

  “Yes, well, it’s nice to meet you.” Sherry turned back around and allowed her thoughts to roam as the choir sang the opening hymn. She wondered where Lacy’s father was and where they were from. Not that it was any of her business. But still . . .

  Sherry felt on edge throughout the service, thinking Lacy might get bored and create a scene. But she didn’t. In fact, after the pastor gave the final benediction, she turned around and saw Lacy sound asleep on the pew.

  “She stayed up late last night.” Gina stroked Lacy’s hair and jostled her shoulder. “Wake up, honey. Church is over. Time to go get lunch.” She turned back to Sherry. “Got any suggestions for a kid-friendly café?”

  “It’s not like you have many choices in Bloomfield. The Olde Towne Inn Bed and Breakfast has the Pink Geranium, and then there’s the Main Street Café.” She didn’t mention the Fancy Schmantzy Restaurant because it was . . . well, fancy. And diners who were willing to pay the exorbitant prices wouldn’t appreciate a Lacy-style temper tantrum.

  “Which do you—?”

  Gina didn’t get the sentence out before Naomi found her way to the pew. “Hey, there. I’ve been lookin’ all over for you, girl.”

  Sherry pointed to the pew. “I was right where I am every single Sunday.”

  Naomi frowned. “That’s your problem. You need to shake things up and move around a bit. Did Andy get his bird?”

  “Yes, he picked him up yesterday afternoon. Naomi, I wish you’d—”

  Naomi gripped Sherry’s arm, shushing her, and glanced over at Gina and Lacy. “Did I interrupt somethin’? Who’s the precious little girl?”

  Sherry introduced Gina and Lacy. Within minutes Naomi had invited the two to join her for lunch at the Main Street Café.

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Gina cast a nervous glance at Sherry.

  “Don’t be silly,” Naomi said as she loosened her grip on Sherry’s arm. “I invited you. Besides, I’d like to get to know Bloomfield’s newest residents.” She leaned over and grinned at Lacy, her whole face crinkling into a palette of wrinkles, belying the steely determination beneath them. Lacy smiled back. “What a beautiful child. She looks like an angel.”

  Sherry had to stifle a laugh. “Enjoy lunch, ladies.”

  Naomi squeezed her arm again. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re comin’ with us.”

  “But—”

  The look in Naomi’s eye quieted Sherry. Making a fuss would only make a scene, and she knew she’d eventually do whatever Naomi wanted anyway.

  Without another word, Naomi took Lacy by the hand and led the way out of the church and down the street. Gina never took her eyes off her daughter, but her shoulders relaxed, and Sherry sensed her relief.

  “So how do you like Bloomfield so far?” Sherry had never been good at small-talk, but she knew she needed to show hospitality.

  “There are some aspects we like, and others—” She stopped short, and her cheeks reddened. “After Lacy saw that bird in your shop, and well . . . it wasn’t the best experience for her.”

  “Sorry about what happened in the shop. It was one of those days.”

  Gina smiled. “Yes, I know about days like that. I have more of them than I can count.” She gestured toward Naomi and Lacy who’d gone on ahead of them. “The main thing that concerns me about moving away from home is not having her grandparents nearby, but it looks like that might not be a problem.”

  “Oh, trust me, Bloomfield is full of grandparents. Lacy will have way more of them than you’ll know what to do with.”

  They walked half a block in silence before Gina turned to Sherry. “I’m really sorry about what happened, and I’d never want to offend you. Lacy’s having a really tough time with her daddy being gone most of the time, and—”

  “No offense taken.”

  Gina smiled. “You’re not married, are you?”

  “No. How about you?” The instant those words escaped Sherry’s lips, she wanted to kick herself in the backside.

  “Yes.” Gina licked her lips. “I’m married to Lacy’s father.” She shrugged as her eyes clouded. “He’s not with us because he got laid off from his job, and since there were so many people applying for the few jobs where we live, he left town to find work.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.” She sighed. “Lacy misses her daddy, but I try to keep her busy thinking about other things and hoping he . . . maybe one of these days . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked around. “How much farther is this place?”

 
“Right there.” Sherry pointed to the awning beside Naomi and Lacy. They chatted with the hostess who’d stepped outside. “Looks like we might have beaten the church crowd. Sometimes there’s a line out the door halfway down the street.”

  “Good, because when Lacy gets hungry, she’s really cranky.”

  The last thing Sherry wanted to see was a cranky Lacy. By the time they reached the café, the hostess had seated Naomi and Lacy at a table for six. Naomi glanced up and waved them over.

  “Are we expecting someone else?” Gina asked.

  Naomi opened her mouth, but before she had a chance to reply, Lacy nodded. “Yes, Miss Nomi asked a real tall man to have lunch with us.”

  Sherry narrowed her eyes as Naomi avoided her gaze. “Who?”

  “Never mind,” Naomi said. “Lacy, would you like a coloring book? The nice hostess is bringing you one.”

  “Who did you invite?” Sherry leaned toward Naomi.

  “His name is . . .” Lacy squinted as she looked questioningly at Naomi. “What did you say his name is?”

  Naomi cleared her throat and glanced up toward the door. A silly, guilty grin spread across her lips, and her cheeks flushed. “Oh, look. There he is.”

  Sherry turned in time to see Brad Henderson striding toward them. No escaping now. “Naomi, you should have told me.” She kept her voice low, hoping no one else could hear. When she glanced at Gina, she noticed a puzzled expression, so she explained, “Brad is an old friend.”

  “Hey there, Brad.” Naomi pointed to one of the vacant chairs—the one on the other side of Sherry. “We saved you a seat.”

  As Naomi introduced Brad to Gina and Lacy, Sherry did her best to hide her annoyance about the setup. She liked Brad, but the only guy she’d ever fallen for had been Theo, and that was way back in high school. Theo hung around for a couple of years after they graduated, and they dated steadily, until he started making digs about her good-for-nothing father. Sherry knew about her dad’s alcoholism, but her family loyalty ran deep, and Theo’s increasingly negative comments grated her more and more as time went on. She finally broke it off with him.