In the Neighborhood of Normal Read online

  Contents

  Praise for In the Neighborhood of Normal

  In the Neighborhood of Normal

  Copyright © 2021 Cindy Maddox. All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  Acknowledgments

  Praise for In the Neighborhood of Normal

  “What do we mean when we say ‘normal’? In her engaging novel, Cindy Maddox pushes on norms we may assume around inclusion, intergenerational friendships, and the human capacity to grow and change. She builds a small town world the reader hopes to revisit, full of characters across the age range who are relatable in their hopes and struggles with family and faith. When Mish sets out to help a new friend, readers will root for her to fulfill her mission.”

  - Martha Spong, Denial is My Spiritual Practice (and Other Failures of Faith)

  “‘Follow the love,’ is the message from the unlikely Jesus discovered in a local diner by a grandmother with a new smartphone. It’s the message that changes the lives of several folks in a small church in West Virginia. Unlikely friendships, miracles, doubts, and faith are all a part of this lovely novel by Cindy Maddox. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and you’ll cheer! It’s a story that reminds us of what we can do and who we can be when we look for and follow love.”

  - Lynne Hinton, author of The Beekeeper’s Wife

  In the Neighborhood of Normal

  Cindy Maddox

  Regal House Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 Cindy Maddox. All rights reserved.

  Published by

  Regal House Publishing, LLC

  Raleigh, NC 27587

  All rights reserved

  ISBN -13 (paperback): 9781646030736

  ISBN -13 (epub): 9781646030989

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020951228

  All efforts were made to determine the copyright holders and obtain their permissions in any circumstance where copyrighted material was used. The publisher apologizes if any errors were made during this process, or if any omissions occurred. If noted, please contact the publisher and all efforts will be made to incorporate permissions in future editions.

  Interior and cover design by Lafayette & Greene

  Cover images © by C.B. Royal

  Regal House Publishing, LLC

  https://regalhousepublishing.com

  The following is a work of fiction created by the author. All names, individuals, characters, places, items, brands, events, etc. were either the product of the author or were used fictitiously. Any name, place, event, person, brand, or item, current or past, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Regal House Publishing.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Jackie, my compass and my home

  1.

  Fall, 2017

  Mish was pleased as punch with her new phone. The young sales boy told her it was the latest, most popular smart phone on the market, and that’s all she needed to hear. Her friend Opal had been bragging about hers for months, and Mish couldn’t wait to return the favor.

  She plopped down on the sofa and typed in a number she’d known for nigh unto thirty years. “Opal, you’ll never guess—oh, blast it, I got her answering machine.” She waited for the beep, then started again. “Howdy, Opal. Just wanted you to know I got me a new phone, and it’s a really smart phone, and you can call me back on my new phone number. It’s…hmm.” She tugged a curl behind her ear. “Well, you can call the boy at the phone store and ask him. I’m sure he’ll remember me. His name is Brian. Or Ryan. Or something like that. No, wait—it’s a cheese. Colby! Oh, never mind, I’ll call you back later. Buh-bye.”

  Well phooey. Who’m I gonna brag to now?

  She glanced up at the empty, green plaid chair by the fireplace, where her late husband Floyd had always sat. “I know you don’t approve of me spending the money, Floyd. But I got it dirt cheap by signing what they call a multi-year contract. I guess they don’t know I’m eighty-two or they wouldn’t have taken that bet!” She laughed at her own joke, then sighed when it was the only sound. The silence was heavy in her ears.

  I’ve gotta call somebody who cares. She could try Opal’s cell, but she couldn’t remember the number. She also thought of calling her son, Bobby, but he wouldn’t be excited for her. He’d been telling her for years to get a cell phone. Now it would just seem like she finally listened. Nah, she was going to wait until she saw him, and then act like she’d had it forever. But she could call her granddaughter. Livie would be happy for her. No, wait! I can send a text message! It took Mish a few minutes to remember what the sales boy showed her, but she finally figured it out.

  Dear Olivia hi this is Grandma! Can you believe your old Grandma is sending you a text message? I got this new phone and I wanted to try it out. So how’s school? Are you studying hard? Do you have a boyfriend? He better treat you nice. And if he doesn’t, come back to West Virginia because the cute sales boy at the phone store is single. Okay I guess that’s it for now. Love you bunches and oodles. Grandma.

  She pushed Send. Whew, that took forever and a Sunday. Why does everybody think sending texts is so much better than talking?

  It was just one of the things about this generation she found confusing. They don’t have time to make coffee in the morning but will wait in line for some concoction that takes longer to order than it does to drink. They spend hours on their phones and have to be in constant contact with their friends. Can’t they be alone with their own thoughts for more than two minutes? And that son of hers—he never leaves home without his phone, but does he use it to call his mother?

  On the other hand, her daughter-in-law called too much. Claudia tried. She really did. She couldn’t help that she was just so darn annoying. It must be genetic. Claudia’s mother practically invented the trait. Mish had tried to warn Bobby not to marry her. After all, looks fade, but irritating lasts forever. He didn’t listen, of course, just had to have the pretty cheerleader on his arm. He didn’t even seem to like her anymore, and he talked to her like she was a few peas short of a casserole. Mish couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him really happy. She’d even begun to wonder if he had a fling on the side.

  She looked again at the empty recliner. “I kept asking you to talk with him,” she said. “He probably wouldn’t listen, but you could’ve tried. Or maybe he would have come to church with us again if you’d asked.”

  The phone in her hand suddenly dinged, and Mish nearly dropped it in surprise. She smiled as she realized Livie had written back.

  Hi Grandma! Great 2 hear from u, congrats on new phone. Schools great, bf treats me just fine. See you at Xmas. Luv u 2!

  It took Mish a while to translate the message, but she figured this must be that text-speak people talk about. She studied it to make sure she got it all so she could use it right next time. I’m gonna be hip, she thought with a smile. Hipper than Opal, anyway!

  She looked at the recliner again. “Oh, Floyd, you woul
dn’t believe how much people are willing to pay for a telephone. Some of ’em cost more than that fancy Limousin bull we bought years ago to breed with our herd. And I saw a woman buying three of them—for her teenagers! Can you imagine trusting a kid with an eight-hundred-dollar phone? Just plain crazy.” She paused. “But then look at me, the pot calling the kettle. I’m sittin’ here having a conversation with my dead husband. And no offense, but you ain’t much of a conversationalist, Floyd. Of course, you never was but that’s another matter.”

  Just then her phone dinged again, and she grabbed it to see if it was another message from Livie. But, no, she didn’t recognize the number.

  Hi! I enjoyed talking with you and would love to continue our conversation. Free for breakfast tomorrow?

  “Well, that sounds dandy, but who’s it from?” Who did she know that would want to meet for breakfast? And why didn’t they come out and say who they were? Did they want it to be a surprise? She glanced back at the chair. “Whaddya’ think, Floyd? A secret admirer?” She knew how Floyd would have responded to that ridiculous idea, but the thought didn’t stop her. She’d lived a long life, but it was fairly short on mystery. I’m not gonna let nobody put a damper on my sunshine!

  Just name the time and place, she typed, grinning. She was going to love having a smart phone.

  Mish had a rough, sleepless night. She awoke from a dream in the wee hours of the morning with a sudden realization: she hadn’t given her phone number to anyone but Olivia. Nobody she knew could have texted her and invited her to breakfast. It had to be a wrong number. She felt so foolish. It should have been obvious, and she figured a smarter person would have known right away that nobody had her number. She berated herself for an hour or so, and then her mind ran through all kinds of other mistakes she’d made in her life—times Floyd said she’d been too trusting, or downright stupid. She finally drifted back to sleep at four, then was surprised when she awoke at seven. She hadn’t slept that late in years.

  She laid in bed and stared at the swirling pattern in the textured ceiling as she tried to will herself to get up. It didn’t matter if she overslept. No husband was waiting for breakfast. No kids or grandkids needed her. She had friends, sure, but none of them would know—or care—if she slept until noon. If it weren’t for salesclerks, she might go days without speaking to another person.

  Like that nice boy at the phone store. She caught her breath as she realized…he had her number! She had told him a little about Olivia—maybe he was interested and wanted to hear more about her. Now that Mish knew Livie still had a boyfriend, she obviously couldn’t fix them up. But she should at least tell him in person. Besides, maybe there was a nice girl at church she could introduce him to.

  As she rushed to get ready, she remembered something else—something that returned her excitement from the night before. The Google. Everybody was always talking about The Google, how they Googled this or Googled that. It sounded like you could find anything or anybody on The Google. Maybe her new cell phone number was already there, so maybe the message had been intended for her after all, and the person had wanted to keep it a surprise.

  She grabbed the navy pants she’d worn the day before and put on a fresh, flowered blouse. She had the blouses in all colors, and today felt like a peach day. She rushed out the door and was almost to the restaurant when she realized she had forgotten her hearing aids. She couldn’t turn around and go get them, or she might miss her breakfast date. But not having them made her feel a little fuzzy-headed.

  When she entered the Bluebird Diner, she looked around but didn’t see anybody she knew, and nobody seemed to be looking for her. She chose a table near the door, the chair squeaking on the old linoleum floor when she pulled it out and sat down. She pulled the paper ring off the napkin wrapped around the silverware and fiddled with it as she watched the door.

  “Good morning, Mish,” Jodee, the waitress, said as she poured a cup of coffee. “Are you ready to order?”

  Mish smiled. She and Jodee had chatted a few times when business was slow, and Mish liked hearing stories about Jodee’s little grandbabies. The woman hardly looked old enough to be a grandma, but it was hard to tell with her bottle-blonde hair. “Thanks, but I’m waiting on somebody,” Mish said, then smiled at how good it felt to say that. She was so used to eating alone.

  “Ooh, got somebody special joining you?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know who it is,” Mish said.

  Jodee frowned. “How can you not know who you’re meeting for breakfast?”

  Mish tried not to take offense at Jodee’s tone. “They sent me a text message and invited me to breakfast, so here I am.” Mish craned her neck to see around the coffee pot Jodee held. The woman was sweet and all, but she was blocking the view of the door.

  Jodee reached out and touched Mish’s arm. “But, hon, you can’t go meeting somebody you don’t know. It’s not safe.”

  Mish rolled her eyes. People were so fearful these days. Besides, she knew how to take care of herself. “Well, I might know who it is, but I’m not sure. It’s a bit of a mystery, you see. And don’t you find a little mystery is just what you need to lift your skirt once in a while?”

  “Well don’t lift it too high or I’ll have to…”

  Jodee turned away as she spoke the last few words, and Mish wasn’t sure she heard her right. “Call Belize?” she repeated.

  Jodee was laughing when she turned around. “Call the police, I said. If you lift your skirt too high, I’ll have to call the police.”

  “It’s just an expression,” Mish said with a wave of her hand. “I appreciate your good service, but right now I just want to watch for my date.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right here if you need me.” Jodee shook her head as she walked away, but Mish couldn’t be bothered with what Jodee thought. The bell on the door jingled and she looked up expectantly. It wasn’t anybody she knew. Just a Black lady, she thought, then clasped a hand over her mouth as if she’d said it out loud. She couldn’t believe how racist she sounded! She only meant it wasn’t anybody she knew so it couldn’t be her date. Oh, what the lady would think of me if she could hear my thoughts! She shook her head, as if she could bat them away like a pesky fly.

  She looked up to see the woman staring at her. “Are you all right, ma’am?” the lady asked.

  “Oh, I’m fine. I’m just…um, expecting someone and thought maybe you was them.”

  “Oh, how nice,” she said pleasantly. “You meeting somebody special?”

  “I don’t know who it is,” Mish replied. It was starting to sound odd, even to her.

  The woman tilted her head as she studied Mish. “You don’t know who you’re meeting for breakfast? Is it a blind date or something?”

  Mish laughed at the very idea of having a date at her age. “I’m afraid my courting days are long gone. I’m just meeting somebody who texted me and invited me to breakfast.”

  The lady cupped her chin in her hand, her pink polish pretty against her skin. “I know it’s none of my business, but I’m a little worried about you meeting somebody you don’t know. You have to be careful nowadays.”

  “Oh, I know,” Mish replied, a little miffed. Why was everybody worried about her all of a sudden? “I saw a TV show about people taking advantage of the elderly. I’m being careful. See, they wanted to meet in a public place, so I figured it’d be safe.”

  “Well that’s fine then. I’m glad you’re being smart.” The woman gave her a reassuring smile. “It does sound like a fun mystery. You don’t even know who is wanting to spend time with you.”

  “Exactly!” It didn’t sound weird when the lady put it that way. “Somebody wants the pleasure of my company and said they could use my help. They might even want to pick my brain about something. I’ve been told that’s slim pickings, but I got a bit of wisdom stored up after all these years.”

  The l
ady smiled broadly. “Oh, I just know you do!” Her eyes widened. “Or maybe it’s somebody who wants to tell you something. Or has a message for you.”

  “A message? For me?” She laughed. “Ooh, I never thought of that!”

  “Could be. You know, some people have even entertained angels in disguise.”

  Something jumped in her heart at the very thought. An angel? Nah, not for me. I’m not that important. But still, what an idea, even if I am old. Wait! In the Bible do the angels appear to old people or young people? She started to count the stories she could remember but then realized the lady was staring at her funny again. “Sorry about that,” she said with a laugh. “I was just counting angels. Which is weird, because my preacher was just telling us the other day about people arguing over how many angels can fit—”

  “On the head of a pin!” the lady finished with a laugh.

  “Wait a minute. Do you come to my church?”

  The lady shook her head as she tugged on the lapel of her navy jacket. “I don’t belong to any one church,” she said with a smile. “But you go every Sunday and bring cookies for the coffee hour too, right?”

  “Well yes, but…”

  “Just the type of person likely to get a visit from an angel. So keep your eyes open ’cause you just never know.” And then she winked.

  As the woman turned away, Mish’s breath caught in her chest. The lady had given her a “we’ve got a secret” kind of wink, an “I’m not going to say it, but you know what I mean” kind of wink.

  But whatever did she mean by it? Something about the angel? She said Mish was just the type of person to get a visit from an angel, and then she winked. Like Mish would get a visit from an angel someday soon. How could the woman know that? Why, Mish would love to think herself important enough for such a blessing, but clearly that wasn’t the case. She was just an old farmer’s wife—widow, she corrected herself—with nothing meaningful left ahead of her. Then again, the people in the Bible weren’t always the cream of the crop either, so maybe it didn’t matter.