The Storekeeper's Daughter by Wanda E. Brunstetter Page A

to work inside while she handled the root beer sales. During the slack times, she rushed into the house, tended to Zach, did some cleaning, and instructed her sisters on what they should be doing. At the moment, they were supposed to be cleaning their bedroom while she mopped the kitchen floor. Instead, they were arguing, and Naomi was afraid they would wake Zach, who was taking his morning nap.
    She set the mop and bucket aside and trudged up the stairs.
    “What’s the problem?” Naomi asked when she entered the girls’ room.
    Mary Ann sat on the hardwood floor with a stack of papers in her lap, and Nancy stood off to one side, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
    “Mary Ann won’t help me clean,” Nancy tattled. “She’s been sittin’ there goin’ through old school papers for the last ten minutes.”
    “Mary Ann, please get up and help your sister clean this room,” Naomi instructed.
    The child pointed to the garbage can a few inches away. “I am cleanin’. I’m throwin’ out all the papers I don’t want.”
    “You can do that later, after the room is clean.” Naomi grabbed the broom, which had been leaning against the wall, and handed it to Nancy. “You sweep, and Mary Ann can hold the dustpan. After that, the windows need to be washed, and your throw rugs should be shaken.”
    A horn honked in the yard, signaling another root beer customer.
    Naomi turned and started for the door. “I’ll be back soon to check on your progress.” She left the room, praying she’d have enough patience to get through the day without losing her temper or having to spank someone.
    ***
    Jim was glad traffic was light that morning, and he had no trouble finding his way to Carl Stevens’s office in Bel Air. He parked the minivan in the parking lot, and a few minutes later he entered the building and introduced himself to the receptionist. The middle-aged woman invited him to take a seat, asked if he’d like a cup of coffee, and said Mr. Stevens would be with him in a few minutes.
    As Jim sat in a straight-backed chair, holding a mug of coffee in his hands, he wished Linda were with him. Would the lawyer be reluctant to hand the boy over to Jim without meeting his wife first? Would the child willingly go with Jim, or would he make a fuss?
    I sure am glad I bought that car seat for the baby before we left Washington. I’m so nervous, I’d probably have forgotten to get one if we’d waited to buy it until we got here.
    Jim was more than a little anxious about becoming a father. After eight years of marriage, he and Linda had developed a pleasant routine. Their whole life was about to change, and he hoped it would be for the better and that he wouldn’t regret his decision to adopt this little one-year-old boy.
    “Mr. Scott?”
    Jim’s thoughts came to a halt, and he looked up. A tall man with thinning gray hair and rimless glasses offered him a halfhearted smile.
    Jim stood and extended his hand. “You must be Carl Stevens.”
    “That’s right.” The man glanced around. “Where’s your wife? Linda, isn’t that her name?”
    “She’s at the hotel with a bad headache.”
    The lawyer raised his eyebrows, but before he could ask any questions, Jim quickly added, “It’s just a tension headache. She’ll be fine in a couple hours.”
    “I see. Well, please come into my office.” The older man led the way, and Jim followed.
    When they entered his office, Mr. Stevens nodded toward a chair. “Please, have a seat.”
    As he sat down, Jim scanned the room. He and Carl Stevens seemed to be alone. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, but where’s our baby? Will I be meeting the child’s mother?”
    The lawyer took a seat in the leather chair behind his desk and leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped. “There’s been a change in plans.”
    “Change in plans? What do you mean?” Jim’s heartbeat picked up momentum, and a trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead. He didn’t like the fact