Love Finds a Way (14 page)

“Supper, dear. We call it supper around here.”

Sheila blew out her breath. “Supper then.”

“Let’s see … I believe he called to ask me some questions about the doll.”

Sheila’s hopes soared. “Did you remember something that might be helpful?” She didn’t recall Dwaine saying anything about his call to Grandma. Surely if he’d discovered some helpful information, he would have told her.

Grandma released a sigh. “I’m afraid not, but he did say he was looking for a receipt.”

Sheila jumped off the bed and strode back to the window as an idea popped into her head. “What about your copy of the receipt, Grandma? Didn’t Bill Summers give you one when you took the doll in?”

“Hmm …” Sheila could almost see her grandmother’s expression—dark eyebrows drawn together, forehead wrinkled under her gray bangs, and pink lips pursed in contemplation.

“I suppose I did get a receipt,” Grandma admitted, “but I have no idea where I put it. With the mess of moving and all, it could be almost anywhere.”

“I see.” Sheila couldn’t hide her disappointment. “I’ve got a suggestion.” “What’s that, Grandma?”

“Why don’t you go over to The Older the Better again today? You’re good at organizing and might be able to help find it.”

“I doubt that.” Sheila had already spent several hours in Dwaine’s shop. The place was a disaster, with nothing organized or filed in the way she would have done had she been running the place.

“Besides,” Grandma added, “it will give you a chance to get to know Dwaine better. He’s single, you know. Told me so on the phone yesterday.”

Sheila’s gaze went to the ceiling. Grandma was such a romantic. She remembered how her grandmother used to talk about fixing candlelight dinners for her and Grandpa. Grandma delighted in telling her granddaughters how she believed love and romance were what kept a marriage alive. “That and having the good Lord in the center of your lives,” she had said more than once.

Sheila reflected on a special day when Grandma had taken her, Kimber, Lauren, and Jessica shopping. The girls had just been starting into their teen years, and Grandma had bought them each a bottle of perfume, some nail polish, and a tube of lipstick. Then she’d told them how important it was to always look their best in public.

“You never know when you might meet Mr. Right,”

Grandma had said with a wink. As they drove home that day, Grandma had sung “Some Enchanted Evening.” “Sheila, are you still there?”

Grandma’s question drove Sheila’s musings to the back of her mind. “Yes, and I will go back to the antique shop today,” she replied. “But please don’t get any ideas about Dwaine Woods becoming my knight in shining armor.”

“Of course not, dear. I’ll let you make that decision.”

Dwaine whistled as he polished a brass vase that had been brought in last week. It was an heirloom and would sell for a tidy sum if he could find the right buyer. He hoped it would be soon, because business had been slow the last few weeks, and he needed to make enough money to pay the bills that were due.

If I could find that Bye-Lo doll for Sheila, I might have the money I need
.

A verse—1 Timothy 6:10—popped into Dwaine’s head.
“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.”

“I don’t really love money, Lord. I just need enough to pay the bills.”

Then
“My God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus,”
from Philippians 4:19, came to mind.

Dwaine placed the vase on a shelf by the front door. He’d done the best he could with it and knew it would sell in God’s time. And if he found Sheila’s doll, it would be because he was trying to help, not trying to make a profit at her expense.

An image of the dark-haired beauty flashed into his head. Sheila fascinated him, and if she lived in Casper, he would probably make a move toward a relationship with her.

But she lives in California
, he reminded himself.
She’ll be leaving soon, so I shouldn’t allow myself to get emotionally involved with a woman I may never see again
.

The silver bell above the front entrance jingled as the door swung open. Sheila stepped into the store, looking even more beautiful than she had the day before.

Dwaine’s palms grew sweaty, and he swallowed hard. So much for his resolve.

“Hi, Sheila. It’s good to see you again.”

S
heila halted when she stepped through the door. Dwaine stood beside a shelf a few feet away, holding a piece of cloth and looking at her in a most peculiar way.

“Good morning,” she said, trying to ignore his piercing gaze.
Is my lipstick smudged? Could I have something caught between my teeth?

“You look well rested.” He smiled, and she felt herself begin to relax.

“The bed wasn’t as comfortable as my own, but at least I slept.”

“That’s usually the way it is. Hotel beds never measure up to one’s own mattress.”

Dwaine’s dark eyes held her captive, and Sheila had to look away.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asked. “I’ve got some cinnamon rolls and coffee in the back room.”

“Thanks, but the hotel served a continental breakfast.” She took a step forward. “I dropped by to see if you’ve had any luck locating the Bye-Lo doll or at least a receipt.”

“Sorry, but I haven’t had time to look this morning.” He nodded toward a brass vase on the shelf. “I started my day by getting out some items I acquired a few weeks ago.”

Sheila struggled to keep her disappointment from showing. “I suppose I could go visit Grandma or my cousin Jessica, then check back with you later on.” She turned toward the door, but Dwaine touched her shoulder.

“Why don’t you stick around awhile? I’ll give you more boxes to go through, and while you’re doing that, I can finish up with what I’m doing here.”

She turned around. “You wouldn’t mind me snooping through your things?”

Dwaine leaned his head back and released a chuckle that vibrated against the knotty pine walls.

“What’s so funny?”

“When you said ‘snooping through my things,’ I had this vision of you dressed as Sherlock Holmes, scrutinizing every nook and cranny while looking for clues that might incriminate me.”

Sheila snickered. “Right. That’s me—Miss Private Eye of the West.”

“I know we covered quite an area yesterday,” Dwaine said, “but there are a lot of boxes in the back room, not to mention two old steamer trunks. If you’d like to start there, I’ll keep working in this room, trying to set out a few more things to sell.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sheila shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the coat tree near the front door.

Dwaine nodded toward the back room. “Don’t forget about the coffee and cinnamon rolls, in case you change your mind and decide you’re hungry.”

“Thanks.” Sheila headed to the other room as the bell rang, indicating a customer had come in. She glanced over her shoulder and saw an elderly man holding a cardboard box in his hands.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Dwaine took the box from the gray-haired man who’d entered his shop and placed it on the counter.

The man’s bushy gray eyebrows drew together. “My wife died six months ago, and I’ve been going through her things.” His blue eyes watered, and he sniffed as though trying to hold back tears.

“I’m sorry about your wife, Mr.—”

“Edwards. Sam Edwards.” He thrust out his wrinkled hand, and Dwaine reached across the counter to shake it.

“My wife had a thing for old dolls,” Sam went on to say. “I have no use for them, and I could use some extra money. If you think they’re worth anything and want to buy ‘em, that is.”

Dwaine rummaged through the box, noting there were three dolls with composition heads and bodies, two wooden-ball-jointed bodies with bisque heads, and an old rubber doll that looked like it was ready for burial. He was sure there was some value in the old dolls—all except the one made of rubber. He could probably make a nice profit if he had the dolls fixed, then sold them at the next doll show held in the area. Still, the dolls might be heirlooms, and he would hate to sell anything that should remain in someone’s family.

“Don’t you have children or grandchildren who might want your wife’s dolls?” Dwaine asked.

Sam shook his head. “Wilma and I never had any kids, and none of my nieces seemed interested when I asked them.”

“How much are you needing for the dolls?” Dwaine asked, knowing there would be some cost for the repairs, and he might not get his money back if he paid too much for them.

“A hundred dollars would be fine—if you think that’s not too high.”

Dwaine shook his head. “Actually, I was thinking maybe two hundred.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted. “You mean it?” “Two hundred sounds fair to me.”

“All right then.”

Dwaine paid the man, escorted him to the front door, and went back to inspect the dolls now in his possession.

“How’s it going?” Sheila asked as she entered the room an hour later. “Are you getting lots done?”

He shrugged. “Not really. A man brought in this box of dolls that belonged to his late wife. I’ve been trying to decide how much each is worth, which ones will need fixing before I can resell them, and which ones to pitch.”

“You wouldn’t throw out an old doll!” Sheila looked at him as though he’d pronounced a death sentence on someone.

She hurried over to the counter before Dwaine had a chance to respond. “May I see them?” she asked.

He stepped aside. “Be my guest.”

Sheila picked up the rubber doll first. It had seen better days, although she thought there might be some hope for it. The head was hard plastic and marred with dirt, but it wasn’t broken. The rubber body was cracked in several places, and a couple of fingers and toes were missing. Sheila didn’t know much about doll repairs, but it was obvious the rubber body could not be repaired.

“The ball-jointed dolls need restringing, and all the composition ones could use a new paint job,” Dwaine said. “I don’t see any hope for the rubber one though.”

“But the head’s in good shape. Couldn’t a new body be made to replace the rotting rubber?” Sheila loved dolls and hated the thought of this one ending up in the garbage.

“Replace it with another rubber body, you mean?”

She shook her head. “I was thinking maybe a cloth one. Even if you could find another rubber body, it would probably be in the same shape as this one.”

“My sister lives in Seattle, and there’s a doll hospital there. I could take these when I visit Eileen next month for Easter.”

Dwaine smiled. “Our family always gets together at Easter time to celebrate Christ’s resurrection and share a meal together.”

Sheila thought about all the Easter dinners she and her family had spent at Grandma and Grandpa Dunmore’s over the years. She missed those times, and now that Mom and Dad were on the mission field, unless she went to San Diego to be with her brother, she’d be spending Easter alone.

Dwaine closed the lid on the cardboard box. “I’ll worry about these later. Right now, let’s see if we can locate your Bye-Lo baby. Unless you’ve already found something in the back room, that is.”

She released a sigh. “Afraid not. I did manage to tidy up the place a bit though.”