Waiting for a View: A Bloomfield Novel

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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 doors, 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