by Leah Atwood
Waiting on Love
A Modern Conveniences Christmas Novella
Leah Atwood
Copyright © 2016 by Leah Atwood
Cover Design by Covers by Ramona
Cover Image © Depositphotos.com
Editing by Vicki Prather of Prather Ink
Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Letter From The Author
Also By Leah
Not This Time Excerpt
Chapter One
Scott Lamar checked his phone for messages before going into the house. He’d expected his mom to call again, trying for the umpteenth time to talk him out of his plan. No matter how many times she tried to change his mind, he couldn’t be swayed. He’d prayed about it, had peace about his decision, and whatever came next.
Was it gutsy? Absolutely.
Was he crazy? Some could make a case for it.
Was he determined? With every fiber of his being.
Every man faced a time in his life when he had to accept the cold hard facts of life and accept responsibility for his actions. In other words, he had to man up.
This was his time, seven years in the making.
He took the keys from the ignition and singled out the house key. Exited his car, walked to the front porch and unlocked the door. The house had the bare necessities inside. He’d closed on the property yesterday and moved in the few pieces of furniture he’d brought from Scranton. He’d go shopping later today for the rest.
Reality hadn’t hit him yet. Being back in Maryville was surreal after leaving seven years ago. He’d gone to college, then found a job as a finance manager at a car dealership in Scranton after his parents had moved there three years ago. He didn’t doubt it was divine intervention that opened up the same position at the sister dealership in Maryville only one month after he’d decided he had to return.
He flicked the light switch, relieved to see the lights brighten the interior. Only an hour had passed since he’d left the power company after having the utilities set up in his name. The representative had said turning on the electricity could take one to six hours. After sleeping in a dark house with no water last night, all he wanted was a hot shower.
In the kitchen, he turned on the faucet and tested the water. Cold. He’d have to delay his shower a little longer until the water heated. While he waited, he opened a memo app on his phone and made a shopping list. There were several big-ticket items he would put off purchasing for a short time. He’d gone online a few days ago and scanned the Black Friday ads. He’d picked out a living room set that would go on sale the Sunday of Thanksgiving week, and a dining room table. In the meantime, he had his recliner.
He’d moved his bedroom furniture with him, but he had to buy a new metal frame for his bed since his had twisted beyond hope during transport. If he could find a good deal on a desk, he also wanted to set up a home office in the third bedroom. Perhaps he would check the thrift stores—he wasn’t above buying used furniture for an office. Finally, he’d stop at the children’s furniture store.
Hope against hope, he had to believe he’d be given the chance to correct his wrongs, as much as possible. Nothing could make up or excuse what he’d done, but he could choose to start clean today and move forward. He was twenty-five years old, more than old enough to accept responsibility.
His chest tightened with an onslaught of nerves. He’d ready the house first, then go to the next order of business. He might get a well-deserved slap in the face, but he would try anyway.
Closing the app, he climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. The master bedroom sat to the left, with his and hers walk-in closets, along with dual sinks in the bathroom. Four laundry baskets held the majority of his clothes. He lifted a shirt to hang it in the closet—and found no hangers. Another item to add to his list.
Along with a washer and dryer set. How had he forgotten that? Maybe he should use a laundromat for a few months, let his depressed savings account recover first. No, he needed every advantage to put his plan into effect. He wouldn’t let the lack of a washing machine break the deal before it started.
He set the clothes aside and went to the master bath. Tested the water again. Hot water spilled from the faucet. He pumped his fist in the air, then pulled it back. Did it really warrant that level of excitement? Yes, yes it does, when I haven’t had a shower in two days.
Forty minutes later, refreshed and clean, Scott locked up the house and drove in the direction of the furniture store—the same one his parents had frequented when they still lived in Maryville. On his way, he passed several churches. He’d visit one on Sunday and hopefully find a church home soon.
His parents hadn’t been churchgoers. They didn’t follow any religion and hadn’t raised him to believe in any one faith. Only this year, when a coworker invited him to church, did he begin to learn and understand about God. After attending for several months, he’d made the decision to become a Christian. He hadn’t looked back since.
He’d faced a backlash from his parents, who didn’t think he needed God, nor did they agree with the changes in his life that becoming a Christian required. During his many conversations with them about his newfound faith, he’d listened to them with respect, but remained unwavering in his beliefs.
A large neon sign, a relic from another decade, flashed the name of Hargrove’s Furniture in orange letters. The sign might be outdated, but Mr. Hargrove maintained a solid reputation for maintaining both trendy and traditional inventories. Few vehicles in the parking lot. Had the business gone downhill since he’d left town? Then again, early afternoon on a Thursday wasn’t prime time for furniture shopping. Scott found a parking spot in the front row.
The bell chimed when he walked through the front door. A man approached him, and Scott immediately recognized him as an old school friend, Russ Walden.
Recognition lit Russ’ eyes. “Scott Lamar, I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“How’s it going, Russ.” He raised his hand for a high five.
Russ slapped palms with him. “Can’t complain. Where’ve you been hiding out? Marc Owens and I were just talking about you a few months ago.”
Scott arched a brow and smirked. “If Marc was in on the conversation, I’m sure it couldn’t have been anything good.”
Laughter erupted from Russ. “I don’t think he still holds that senior prank against you. But seriously, no one from school has heard from you since your parents moved.”
“Wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed back in town.” The truth was out before he could stop it.
Russ sobered. “Everyone makes mistakes. No one here will hold a lack of judgment from your youth against you.”
“One
person will.”
“Have you talked to her recently?” Russ reached into his pocket to silence his ringing phone.
“Not since the papers were signed years ago.” Aching guilt tore at his stomach’s lining.
“Tanya’s done all right for herself from what I hear.”
“Good to know.” He tugged subconsciously at his ear. He’d find out for himself soon enough.
Russ must have sensed the change in his demeanor. “I’m sure you didn’t come in to play catch up with an old friend, so what can I help you find today?”
“A queen sized metal bed frame, and a desk if you have any good sales on them.”
“Do you mind a few scratches? We just marked down a floor model to seventy-five percent off the suggested retail price.”
Scott smiled. “Either you’re a terrible salesman, or you know I’m cheap.”
“A little of both.” Russ winked and laughed. “Come this way. It’s in the other showroom.”
Along the way, Scott spotted a section of children’s furniture. “When did Mr. Hargrove start carrying children’s things?”
“About three to four years ago, when he realized modern parents are willing to shell out big bucks for cutesy beds and dressers.”
Scott arched a brow. “Did you just use the word cutesy?”
“Hey, if the word fits.” Russ shrugged.
“Mind if we take a detour to them?”
Russ gestured toward the area. “You’re the customer.”
His chest constricted as he walked toward the u-shaped displays of children’s beds. One, in particular, caught his eye. It was a simply constructed design painted white, but a line of purple flowers entangled in green vines was painted on the headboard and footboard. It was delicate and feminine and made him think of the daughter he’d given up. A quick scan of the area revealed a matching dresser with the same design painted on the front of each drawer.
He pointed toward the bed. “I’ll take that set. Are there any other pieces that go with it?”
“The entire collection has a bed, nightstand, dresser, and wooden toy chest.”
“I’ll take them all.” An impulse based on hope.
“It’s one of our priciest pieces for children.” A mild hesitation rested between Russ’ words.
“You really are a terrible salesman.” Scott covered his nervousness with a laugh. “But I want them, regardless.”
“We had them in stock earlier this week. Let me check the computer to make sure they’re still in the warehouse.”
“Thanks, and I still want to see the desk.”
“Right this way.”
When Scott carried his receipt out the door a half-hour later, he refused to think of the total he’d spent. It would be worth it in the end, wouldn’t it? But what if Tanya didn’t agree? What if she refused to allow him time with his daughter? She’d be well within her rights, but he prayed she’d extend grace and mercy.
He’d find out soon enough. Once he had everything in place, he’d visit Tanya, present his proposal. No warning, no call beforehand. If she had time to prepare a response, he knew she’d say no immediately without a second thought. He wanted her to see the sincerity in his eyes, the remorse for his past decision. He needed to have this conversation face to face, so she could see he was a changed person.
Chapter Two
“Here’s your apron. Make sure it’s clean before every shift.” Birdie Tippens scowled as she handed Tanya her uniform.
Tanya Reeves stared at her surly new boss and reached out for the dull brown slip of fabric. “I will.”
“Dinner rush starts soon. Put it on and be ready to go in ten minutes.” Birdie cast an appraising glower over her. “I hired you on the recommendation of a friend. You better not let me down.”
She had friends? “I won’t.”
After jerking her head in an abrupt nod, Birdie stomped back to the kitchen.
I’m doing this for Lacy, I’m doing this for Lacy. No matter how many times she repeated the mantra, she couldn’t find peace. She’d rather be at home with her baby, watching Christmas movies and sipping on hot chocolate. So Lacy was six and not a baby anymore, and it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet, but it would be in two weeks. In her mind, it was already open season for Christmas music and movies.
She slipped the loop over her head and wrapped the apron strings around her waist once before tying them in the back. Dressed in her proper uniform—jeans, yellow T-shirt, the horrid brown apron, and slip-proof shoes—Tanya walked with a lag in her step to the kitchen. Four hours and counting. I can do this.
No one was in the kitchen. She stood by the door for a minute, waiting for Birdie or Freddie, the cook, to return, even one of the other waitresses. Despite making a successful career for herself in direct sales, shyness came over in her new workplace.
Part-time place of employment. Candle sales typically experienced a drastic increase this time of year, but with the economy on a downward slide, many of her loyal customers had stopped buying, or switched to cheaper brands, sacrificing quality for savings. She couldn’t blame them. Pinching pennies had been her way of life for the first two years of Lacy’s life.
With Gran and Granddad’s help after Lacy was born, she’d muddled her way through the second half of her senior year of high school and Scott, Lacy’s father, ran off to college without a backward glance. On a whim, she’d attended one of those candle parties with a friend during a rare night away from Lacy. Gran had insisted she take an evening off. That night, she’d signed up to be an independent distributor for Lit with Love Candles. She’d earned her kit for free and worked hard to build her clientele while still working her job at the supermarket. Within two years, she’d been able to support herself and Lacy completely from her Lit with Love income and the little bit of child support from Scott.
Only this year, there wouldn’t be anything under the tree if she didn’t make some extra cash. Her bills were up to date, and her cabinets were full so she couldn’t complain, but she wanted a good Christmas for Lacy. Her daughter rarely asked for anything, but she had her heart set on a Wagging Wally animated dog. Unfortunately, the toy came with a hefty price tag that Tanya couldn’t afford without the extra income. Then there was Lacy’s birthday three days after Christmas. She couldn’t believe her little girl would turn seven this year.
Lacy wasn’t the only reason Tanya wanted to have a memorable Christmas. Her brother, Archer, had married this year, and his wife, Madison, had become a good friend. She’d been searching for the perfect gift that said Welcome to the family. In addition to a sister-in-law to buy for now, she also had her parents. After living the life of vagabonds for years, they’d moved home to Maryville to take care of Gran, which was a miracle. It had taken a few weeks, but she’d let go of her resentment and welcomed their return into her life.
Approaching footsteps drew her back to the current situation.
Freddie walked—stomped—into the kitchen. Tall and lanky, with scraggly gray hair, he reminded Tanya more of a mad scientist than a short-order cook. “Birdbrain can’t make up her mind. I’ve told her a dozen times no one wants liver as a special.”
Tanya stifled a giggle. She’d heard him call Birdie by the nickname when she’d come in for her interview yesterday. The moniker didn’t fit her whatsoever, which is why she found it amusing—there was nothing birdlike about Birdie, least of all her brain. Tanya didn’t particularly care for the brash woman but knew she had a sharp mind that wouldn’t accept nonsense.
He held out a hand. “I’m Freddie. You must be Tanya.”
“Yes, sir.” She shook his hand.
“Everyone calls me Freddie. No mister or sir. Just plain Freddie. Except for Birdie, who thinks she should call me Fred.” He released her and shook a finger. “Mind you, no one else better think of calling Ole’ Freddie, Fred. You hear of it, you tell me.”
“All right.” She bit her lip to keep from smiling. The old man portrayed himself as cranky, but she intrins
ically knew the opposite to be true and found that she liked him. “What should I do? Birdie told me to be ready.”
“Most shift changes start with a meeting back here, but one of our afternoon girls left early, so Jasmine’s already taking tables.” Freddie went to the industrial steel sink and washed his hands.
“Who are the other waitresses on duty tonight?”
A loud laugh erupted from Freddie. “Just you and Jasmine.”
Tanya gulped. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’ll learn quick enough.” He went to the grill and threw on several buns, flat side down. “Take their orders, bring them to me, deliver their food, and keep them happy.”
Questions formed faster than she could process them. “What about the register?”
“Birdie runs it. When she’s not here, her sister takes care of the money. They both own the place.”
“So all I do is drop off their checks at the table?” She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. At this rate, she’d have to adjust her ponytail before long.
“That’s it. Don’t even have to clear off the tables when working night shifts.” He tossed four burger patties on the grill. “Birdie hires a school kid for that.”
“Is there a special every night?” Her hand slipped into the apron pocket, reaching for a notepad that wasn’t there.
“Yes. Birdie puts them on a rotation, with liver and onions Mondays and Thursday. All come with a choice of a potato, roll, and two vegetables.” Freddie removed the rolls from the grill.
The kitchen door burst opened, and Birdie barreled through with pinched lips. “Where have you been? I told you to be ready in ten minutes.”
“Give her a break, Bird,” Freddie said as he flipped the burgers. “I’ve caught her up on the run of things.”
“You told me to meet you in the kitchen.” Confrontation wasn’t her specialty, nor did she want to disrespect her boss, but she had been told to come in the kitchen.
