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.”
“You organized?”
Was he irritated with her, or just surprised?
“A little. I took a marking pen and wrote a list of the contents on each box. Then I placed the boxes along one wall, in alphabetical order. I also went through the old trunks, but there was nothing in those except some ancient-looking clothes, which I hung on hangers I found in one of the boxes.” She took a quick breath. “I hung the clothes on the wall pegs, and that might help take some of the wrinkles out.”
Dwaine released a low whistle. “You’ve been one busy lady!”
She wondered if he was pleased with her organizational skills or perturbed with her meddling. “I hope you don’t mind.”
He shook his head. “What’s to mind? Your offer to snoop has helped get me more structured. At least in the back room.”
He nodded toward the front of his shop. “This part still needs a lot of help.”
“I’d be glad to come by anytime during my stay in Casper and help you clean and organize.”
Dwaine tipped his head to one side. “You’re too good to be true, Sheila Nickels.”
“I just like to organize.”
“I’m glad someone does.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “As you can probably tell, neatness isn’t my specialty. Guess I’m more comfortable in chaos.”
She shrugged but made no comment.
“I think I’ll check one more spot for a receipt,” Dwaine said. “Then I say we take a break for some lunch.”
Sheila had to admit she was kind of hungry. “That sounds fine.”
Dwaine marched across the room, pulled open the bottom drawer of a metal filing cabinet, and rummaged through its contents.
Sheila stood to one side, watching the proceedings and itching to start organizing the files alphabetically.
“Bingo!” Dwaine held up a receipt and smiled. “This has got to be it, Sheila.”
She studied the piece of paper and read the scrawled words out loud. “Bye-Lo doll, in good condition: Sold to Weber’s Antiques, 10 South Union Avenue, Casper, Wyoming.” Sheila frowned. “There’s no date, so we don’t know when Bill Summers sold Grandma’s doll.”
Dwaine scratched the side of his head. “How about we take a ride over to Weber’s? It’s on the other side of town, and there’s a good hamburger place nearby.” “Why not just phone them?”
He shook his head. “It’ll be better if we go in person. That way, if Tom Weber doesn’t still have the doll, you can show him the picture you have, and he’ll know if that’s the same doll we’re looking for.”
Sheila blew out an exasperated breath. “Of course it’s the same doll.” She pointed to the receipt in his hands. “It says right here that it’s a Bye-Lo.”
He nodded. “True, but it might not be the same one your grandmother sold to Bill Summers.”
She shrugged. “Okay, let’s go find out.”
CHAPTER 6
Sheila leaned her elbows on the table and scowled at the menu in front of her. They’d paid a visit to Weber’s Antique Shop but had come up empty-handed. After looking at the receipt Dwaine showed him and checking his own records, Tom Weber had informed them he’d received a Bye-Lo doll several months ago but had sold it to a doll collector in town. He’d been kind enough to give them the woman’s address, and Dwaine had eagerly agreed to drive over to Mrs. Davis’s place to see if she had the doll. After going there, Dwaine had suggested they stop for a bite to eat.
“I can see by the scowl on your face that you’re fretting about the doll and the fact we still haven’t found it.”
Dwaine’s statement jolted Sheila out of her contemplations. “I was just thinking we’re no further ahead than when we first started.”
He shook his head. “I don’t see it that way. We found a receipt for a Bye-Lo doll, discovered it had been sold to Weber’s Antiques, who in turn sold it to Mrs. Davis, who said she’d originally planned to make new clothes for it and then sell it at the next doll show she went to.”
“Then she ended up giving it to her niece for her birthday, but the girl’s in school right now so we can’t even check on that lead.” Sheila pursed her lips as she thought about how much Grandma’s doll meant to her. However, she wasn’t sure she could take the doll away from a child, even though she would be offering payment.
Dwaine reached for his glass of iced tea. “Let’s eat lunch and get to know each other better; then we’ll drive over to Amy Davis’s house at three thirty, which is when her aunt said she should be home from school.”
“I suppose we could do that, but it’s only one now. What do we do between the time we finish eating and three thirty?”
“How about we return to my shop, where I can wait for potential customers and you can do more organizing?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “My place is such a mess, and you’ve done a great job so far in helping get things straightened out.”
Dwaine whistled as he washed the front window of his store.
She smiled in spite of her disappointment over not yet finding Grandma’s doll. She had made Dwaine’s antique shop look better, and if given the chance, she probably could put the whole place in order.
It was more enjoyable to clean and organize when he had help. Sheila was at the back of the store, putting some old books in order according to the authors’ last names. Dwaine thought it was kind of silly, since this wasn’t the public library, but if it made her happy, he was okay with the idea. Besides, it allowed him more time to be with her. He didn’t think it was merely Sheila’s dark, curly hair and luminous blue eyes that had sparked his interest either. His attraction to Sheila went much deeper than her physical beauty. She was a Christian, which was the most important thing. Dwaine knew dating a nonbeliever was not in God’s plan.
When he heard Sheila singing “Jesus Loves Me,” Dwaine smiled and hummed along. When the song ended, he shook his head. She and I are complete opposites. She likes to organize; I’m a slob. She says “dinner”; I say “supper.” She’s from sunny California; I’m from windy Wyoming. Still, during the time we’ve spent together, she has made me feel so complete.
The grandfather clock struck three, and Dwaine set his roll of paper towels and bottle of cleaner aside. “I think we should head over to Amy Davis’s place,” he called to Sheila. “She should be home from school by the time we get there.”
Sheila strolled across the room. “Are you sure you have time for this, Dwaine? If you keep closing your shop, you might lose all your customers.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll leave a note saying what time I plan to return, and they’ll come back if they were here for anything important.”
She eyed him curiously. “Don’t you worry about money?”
He shrugged. “It does help pay the bills, but I’ve come to realize money can’t be my primary concern.”
“Why are you in business for yourself then?”
“I like what I do.” He smiled. “And if I can make a fairly decent living, that’s all that matters.”
“But you won’t even do that if you keep closing your shop.”
“Not to worry, Sheila. I’m enjoying the time spent with you.”
She blushed. “At first I thought you were only helping me so you could make some money, but since the doll’s not in your shop, if we do find her, there’s really nothing in it for you.”
He grabbed his jacket off the coat tree. “What can I say? I’m just a nice guy trying to help a damsel in distress.”
Sheila climbed the steep steps leading to the home of Amy Davis. It was a grand old place and reminded her of Grandma’s house. A small balcony protruded from the second floor, and Sheila couldn’t help wondering if that might be Amy’s room. Any girl would love to have a balcony off her bedroom. I know I would.
When Sheila heard a thunk, she glanced over her shoulder. To her shock, she discovered Dwaine lying on the bottom step, holding his leg. Her heart lurched, and she rushed to his side. “What happened?”
He groaned. “I was so intent on looking at Mrs. Davis’s historical-looking house that I wasn’t watching where I was going and missed a step. Fell flat, and I think I sprained my ankle.”
Sheila felt immediate concern when she looked at his ankle, already starting to swell. “If you hadn’t been traipsing all over town trying to help me find my grandmother’s doll, this never would have happened. What if it’s broken? What if you can’t work because of the fall?”
Dwaine smiled, even though he was obviously in pain. “I’m sure it’s not broken, and it’s definitely not your fault.” He winced as he tried to stand.
“Here, let me help you.” Sheila offered her arm, and Dwaine locked his elbow around hers. “I’d better drive you to the hospital so you can have that ankle x-rayed.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“What do you mean, not yet? In case it is broken, you need immediate care.”
“Just help me to the car. I’ll wait there while you speak to Amy Davis.”
“Are you kidding me? I can’t leave you alone while I go running off to see about a doll that might never be mine.”
He hopped on one foot and opened the car door on the passenger’s side. “We’re here, it’s three thirty, and you need to know once and for all if your grandmother’s doll is still around.”
“But Amy might not want to part with it, and I can’t fault her for that.”
Dwaine slid into the seat and grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Now please go knock on the door and find out if the doll’s here or not.”
Sheila looked up at the stately home, then back at Dwaine again, and sighed. “I’ll only be a few minutes, and as soon as I’m done, we’re going to the hospital.”
He saluted her. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”
Sheila closed the car door and made her way up the long flight of stairs. I’m surprised it wasn’t me who fell. I was studying this grand home, too, and it could have been my ankle that was injured instead of Dwaine’s.
A few seconds later, she stood on the front porch and rang the doorbell. While she waited, she glanced down at her rental car. At least Dwaine hadn’t wasted his gasoline on this trip.
Finally, the door opened and a middle-aged woman with light brown hair greeted her with a smile. “May I help you?”
“I’m looking for Amy Davis.”
“I don’t believe I’ve met you before. Do you know my daughter?”
Sheila extended her hand. “I’m Sheila Nickels, and I’m in Casper visiting my grandmother who lives at Mountain Springs Retirement Center.”
The woman shook Sheila’s hand, but her wrinkled forehead revealed obvious confusion. “I’m not sure what that has to do with Amy.”
Sheila quickly explained about her vis
it to Grandma’s attic, the missing Bye-Lo doll, and how she and Dwaine had gotten Amy’s name and address.
“Let me get this straight,” Mrs. Davis said. “You believe the doll Amy’s aunt gave her might actually be your grandmother’s doll?”
“Yes, I think it’s quite possible.”
Mrs. Davis opened the door wider. “Please, come in.”
Sheila took one last look at the car. She could see Dwaine leaning against the headrest, and a wave of guilt washed over her. She should be driving him to the hospital now, not taking time to see about a doll. But I’m here, she reminded herself, and Dwaine insisted he was okay, so I may as well see what I can find out.
“Have a seat in the living room and I’ll get my daughter.” Mrs. Davis ascended the stairs just off the hallway, while Sheila meandered into the other room and positioned herself on the couch. It was near the front window, so she could keep an eye on Dwaine. I hope his leg’s not broken, and I pray he isn’t in much pain. Sheila hated to admit it, but the carefree antique dealer was working his way into her heart, even though she’d only met him yesterday. It wasn’t like her to have strong feelings for someone she barely knew. She, who had kept her heart well guarded since her broken engagement to Kevin.
Sheila heard the floor creak, and she snapped her attention away from the window, turning toward the noise. A teenaged girl with hazel-colored eyes and long blond hair gazed at her with a curious expression. “I’m Amy Davis. My mother said you wanted to speak to me and that you were interested in the doll my aunt gave me for my birthday.”
Sheila nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
“I hope you’re not planning to take the Bye-Lo away, because I collect dolls, and she’s special to me.”
“I—I just want to see her. I need to know if she’s the same doll my grandma used to have in her attic.” Sheila didn’t have the heart to tell Amy that if it was Grandma’s doll, she planned to offer payment to get it back.
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