Tail of Two Hearts. Charlotte Carter
But she’d been burned twice and was leery about how he might react when she had to tell him about her inability to have babies. If they got that far.
Exhaling, she climbed into her compact car for the short ride home. No sense worrying about that now, she told herself.
Because her parents lived thirty minutes from Bygones, Vivian had rented a small house closer to her job at the library when she had first started to work there. But then the town had run out of money, had cut the funds for her position and had reduced the number of hours the library was open.
Vivian had been fortunate to be hired by Allison to help at the bookstore.
Her house formerly belonged to a foreman on the now-bankrupt wheat farm. The two-bedroom clapboard house served her well. And the rent was modest enough that she could still afford it, even though she was only working part-time at Happy Endings.
She stopped on the road in front of her mailbox and grabbed the day’s mail, then drove under the carport.
Taking her mail and purse, she went in the front door and flicked on the light.
Essie, her calico cat, hopped down from her favorite spot on the back of the couch, tiptoeing over to meet Vivian.
“Hi there, little lady.” She crouched down to pet the cat. “Have you had a busy day watching out the window?”
Essie responded with a loud, rumbling purr.
“Yes, it sounds like it was very exciting.” Vivian tossed her purse and mail on the blond-wood end table by the couch. Although she had purchased mostly used furnishings, she’d perked up the room with two bright red garden stools for coffee tables and a couple of matching red throw pillows, accented with a green-and-white afghan her mother had crocheted tossed over the back of the couch. On the longest wall, she had hung framed posters of colorful gardens from around the world.
Definitely homier than plain walls and a beige couch.
She stepped into the second bedroom, where Roger was noisily running through his tunnel, showing off his speed.
“Hi, guy. Did you get in lots of training today?” She peered into his cage, which sat on top of an old wooden desk. “Chase asked about you this morning.”
Roger peeked out of his tunnel and gazed up at her with his beady little eyes.
“I know. He really loves animals—even little guys like you.”
As she glanced around the small bedroom, she pictured a crib and changing table, maybe a mural of Noah’s ark on the wall.
Just because she couldn’t bear her own children didn’t mean she couldn’t have a family. She didn’t need a man to tell her it was okay to fulfill her dream. She was taking charge of her own life.
Essie wound her way between Vivian’s legs, still purring loudly.
“I know, sweetie. You want some dinner, don’t you?”
In the kitchen, Vivian poured some dry food into the cat dish, placed it on the floor for Essie and returned to the living room. Plopping down on the couch, she kicked off her shoes and picked up the mail.
An ad for a pizza place on Highway 135. A solicitation from some charity she’d never heard of. And a—
The envelope—bearing the return address of one of several adoption agencies she had contacted about adopting a baby—trembled in her hand.
She swallowed hard and licked her lips.
Please, please let it be good news.
Carefully she opened the envelope and removed the single sheet of stationery.
Dear Miss Duncan, Vivian read. We appreciate your interest in adopting a child from our agency. However—
Her eyes began to blur the words: single woman...limited income...not financially equipped to support a child.
She covered her mouth with her hand. It’s only one agency turning me down, she told herself. She’d applied to several others. Somewhere there was a baby waiting for a mommy. Waiting for her to hold and love him.
She straightened her shoulders.
Tomorrow was another day. She was confident her dream would come true. She swallowed her tears and lifted her chin.
All in God’s time.
Chapter Two
As was his custom, Chase woke early the next morning. He let Boyo out the back door to a fenced area where he could do his business. The dog sniffed the perimeter of his domain. Boyo relaxed only after he was convinced that there had been no intruders since his last visit.
Before long Boyo was back in the shop and racing up the stairs for his breakfast. His brownish coat was a typical shade for a basset hound but his curly hair was very much that of a poodle.
Chase trotted up the stairs behind him.
The fact that he owned a pet shop still amazed him. His life had definitely turned around the day some anonymous benefactor had decided to revitalize downtown Bygones and had offered matching funds for six new businesses to start up in the refurbished stores on Main Street.
The minute he’d heard about the opportunity, he’d sent in his application. Until then, owning a pet store had only been a fanciful dream born of a few happy months as a youngster volunteering at an animal shelter outside of Wichita, plus a whole menagerie of strays he’d brought home over the years.
By the time he was a teenager, his reality had been working grueling, mostly boring, hours, first as a worker and then as foreman, in a warehouse near Wichita.
He had hated the drudgery of the job; he had ever since starting to work there as a teenager. But the wages had been enough that his mother had been able to cut back on the hours she had worked.
In the small upstairs kitchen he fixed Boyo and Fluff their breakfasts. While they ate, he stood at the counter eating a bowl of cereal and drinking his morning coffee.
As soon as he fed the puppies and kittens downstairs, and cleaned their pens, he would keep his eye out for Vivian’s car. He’d been thinking about her a lot. Eager to see her again. Although he wasn’t sure that was a good idea, he couldn’t seem to help himself.
An hour later, just as he was finishing with Pepper’s cage, Chase spotted Vivian’s little red car go by.
“What’s up? What’s up?” Pepper squawked.
“I’m going to call on a very pretty lady. That’s what’s up.”
“Pretty birdie. Pretty birdie,” Pepper announced in his shrill vocalization.
“Yes, Pepper, I know.” Chase held out his hand so Pepper could hop off his shoulder, onto his hand and return to his clean cage with fresh newspapers on the bottom. A fine use for the local Bygones Gazette, he was sure.
The parrot reached his perch and gave his feathers a shake. “Good birdie. Good birdie.”
“You’re an excellent birdie, Pepper. I’m hoping one day soon you’ll find a new home.” Although he had to admit he was growing fond of the silly bird, he’d be more than happy to sell Pepper to a parrot lover. Business was business, right?
The middle-aged man who had brought in the bird had told Chase that Pepper had belonged to his mother, now deceased. His wife hated the bird. So he had to get rid of Pepper.
It was hard on long-lived creatures like large parrots. When their owner passed on, the birds experienced grief much like humans did. But after a few weeks here in the pet store, Pepper seemed to be adjusting to his temporary home and clearly enjoyed greeting customers.
Sometimes not too politely, Chase thought with a frown.
“I’ll find you a permanent home soon, ol’ codger,” he promised.