The Amish Sweet Shop, page 23
“So Seth drove home and told his father what had happened. At first, his father believed him. But after Mrs. Robb spread rumors and word got back to their bishop, he changed his mind. His father ordered Seth to give back the jewelry, apologize to the widow, and repent of his sins because he’d broken a commandment. He and his father had a terrible argument, and his father ordered him to stay away from the house. Well, you can’t give back what you don’t have,” Hannah concluded as tears filled her eyes. “I believe Seth Miller is telling the truth.”
Again, Sarah looked to John for direction, who sat rubbing his chin for a full minute. “That very well may be the case, daughter. If Seth Miller was falsely accused, the good Lord knows the truth. And it’s only God’s opinion that we need to worry about, not the elder Mr. Miller, or Mrs. Robb, or the local sheriff. Yet in the meantime, Seth Miller isn’t Amish, so I doubt our bishop will agree to your forming a partnership.” He clucked his tongue, a habit he’d learned from Mam. “You’re moving too quickly. Daniel just died. Live with us for a year or two. Have your little one here. Perhaps by then your future will be made clear.”
Hannah’s gaze scanned the table, hoping for someone to take her side. But it was not to be.
“That sounds like a wise idea, John.” Sarah smiled at him.
“I agree,” said Lydia, jumping to her feet. “I can’t wait to be an aunt. In the meantime, let’s get this kitchen cleaned up.”
Hannah picked up a stack of plates and followed her sister to the sink. For now the matter was settled. There was no point in arguing. But later that night, after Lydia had gone to her room and her parents dozed in the living room, Hannah wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and walked outside. In a yard bright with moonlight, cold stars shone down from an unfathomable distance, as though mocking her insignificance. Closing her eyes, she heard the familiar night sounds of hoot owls, and one lonely coyote. Then Hannah quieted her mind and listened with her heart. Call it intuition; call it God’s favorite method of communication, but she knew in an instant she had to find Mrs. Robb’s missing rings.
Until someone discovered the thief’s true identity, she would never get her hardware store. And one righteous man would never be restored to his family or to his faith.
Chapter 7
The next morning when Hannah announced her intentions to return to Bluebird, her sister looked disappointed and her mother confused.
“I thought you agreed to see what the bishop decides,” Sarah said, placing one hand on her ample hip.
“I did. I won’t go against the bishop’s decision. But until the store is sold, the Howards need my help. I will work until they close their doors.”
Sarah nodded. “Do you think Mr. Miller will buy it by himself?”
“No, he can’t afford to.” Staring out the window, Hannah nibbled a piece of toast.
“Then I will pray he finds a more suitable partner.” Sarah picked up a basket of laundry and headed for the clothesline.
Hannah finished her breakfast and headed next door to call for a ride. Her heart ached because the house in which she’d been born felt alien to her. And her heart ached for Daniel and their broken dreams. Only when she immersed herself in work at the store did her pain subside. If she had to stay busy every minute of the day until she fell into bed, that’s what she would do.
Around midmorning, Mr. Howard shut his ledger and rubbed his eyes. Martha had already walked across the street to buy them coffee and donuts. “Let’s take a break, Hannah,” he said. “Tell me about your visit home. What did your parents think about the idea?”
Hannah stopped filling bags with birdseed and approached the front counter. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. “They had their . . . reservations due to the newness of my widowhood. But my father will check with our bishop.”
Mr. Howard studied her face. “His reservations are justified. Daniel’s death came as a terrible shock to you.”
“Yes, but Kings Hardware won’t wait for a reasonable mourning period.” Regretting her harsh tone, she said in a controlled voice, “I do have one possibility, the nature of which I’d rather not discuss at this time. Do you have a phone book?”
Mr. Howard gaped at her. “I do, but it’s rather old.” He passed a tattered White Pages and his cell phone across the counter. “Make all the calls you want.”
Hannah quickly flipped through the pages, then called every B. Robb in the book. Two of the numbers had been disconnected and the others weren’t the correct Mrs. Robb.
“Can I help you find someone? You don’t have to tell me the reason.” Mr. Howard pushed his glasses up his nose.
“Could you Google a Mrs. Bernice Robb who lives here in Lancaster County?” she asked after a moment. “She’s a widow lady in her eighties.”
He did as she asked. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, he shook his head. “I found no one that could possibly be her. Someone her age might not have any social media presence.”
Hannah wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but the gist of it was clear. “Thanks anyway. It was a long shot.”
Glancing up, Mr. Howard’s face bloomed with a grin. “Seth, I didn’t expect you today.”
“My foreman gave me the day off,” a familiar voice said over her shoulder. “Thought maybe I could get in some training. Good morning, Mrs. Kline.”
Hannah wheeled around on her heel. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know you’re butting your nose into someone’s business.”
“Who’s butting their nose in?” Martha Howard bustled in from the back room. She set three large Styrofoam cups and a bakery bag on the counter.
“Let’s let the young folks sort this out, dear.” Mr. Howard pulled two donuts from the bag. “Grab your coffee. We’ll take ours in the back.”
After Martha followed him through the door, Seth crossed his arms and frowned. “Well?”
Hannah picked up her coffee and nodded toward the front. “Let’s talk outside.”
He trailed after her, but his expression didn’t change. “All right, nobody can overhear us. Why are you looking for Mrs. Robb?”
Hannah peered into his stony English face with that bad haircut and blurted. “Because if I don’t find her rings or who really stole them, you won’t rejoin the Amish church and then you and I can’t be partners.” She inhaled a quick breath. “And I want to buy this store.”
Seth seemed to be holding back a smile. “Why would you want to be partners with a thief?”
“Because I know you aren’t one, and nobody else is stepping up to buy Howard’s with me.” She lifted and dropped her shoulders.
He released a chuckle. “Do you always say exactly what’s on your mind, Mrs. Klein?”
“Pretty much. Now will you drive me to the house she once lived in? Maybe she’s still there.”
“This is pointless. She would have called if she ever found the rings. She might have even passed on by now.”
“I have to at least try or I’ll regret it the rest of my life.”
“What about my training?”
“Your training is pointless if we can’t buy the store together. I’ll explain to Mr. Howard we need a couple hours off. If this works out, I can train you in the future.”
“As you wish.” Seth lifted his hands in surrender.
“Here, take these.” She handed him her donut and coffee. “If I’m riding in a car, I shouldn’t eat anything.”
The Howards beamed when Hannah said they were “pursuing an obstacle in the road to their partnership.” But to Seth she owed a bit more explanation.
“I’m sorry you overheard my conversation. But I never told Mr. Howard why I’m looking for Mrs. Robb. You can wait in the truck while I talk to her. You can even park down the street if you prefer.”
“It’s all right. I know you mean well, but this really is a lost cause.”
“You’ve never seen a motivated woman.” Hannah clutched her stomach around the curves and smiled. But an hour later, she began to understand Seth’s negative response.
The house in which he’d fixed the kitchen door now had new owners—owners who had lived there for two years. The young couple had no idea where the elderly widow had gone after she sold and moved out. They might be willing to check with their former realtor, but privacy laws most likely would prevent the realtor from disclosing any information she might have.
Hannah climbed back into the passenger side with a scowl. “This was a dead end.”
“I’m sorry. I had driven by a few times out of curiosity and thought she had moved away. But it was sweet of you to try.”
“I’m not trying to be sweet, Mr. Miller. I’m trying to be practical. How did you find Mrs. Robb in the first place?”
Seth backed out onto the highway. “What do you mean?”
“You were Amish back then. How did you know that woman needed a carpenter? I’m sure you weren’t reading English newspapers.”
“I don’t know. It was a long time ago.”
“Think back. This is important, even if you are getting cold feet about the purchase.”
Seth’s jaw tightened while a tic appeared in his right cheek. “I’m not getting cold feet.”
“In that case, try to remember.”
For several minutes, neither spoke while Seth drove around aimlessly. Then he said in a soft voice, “Mrs. Robb had posted an ad on the bulletin board in Beechy’s Sweets. She went there all the time. I had stopped in to buy candy for my sisters.”
“Beechy’s in Bluebird?” she shrieked. “That’s practically across the street from the hardware store.”
“I know, Mrs. Klein, but it was a long time ago.”
“Take me back to town.”
“Upon your command, your majesty.”
Hannah wasn’t sure what he meant, so she concentrated on the scenery to keep down her toast and jam. Why do Englishers drive so fast? Must they get everywhere in a hurry?
When they reached Bluebird, Seth dropped her off and then parked behind Howard’s. Hannah crossed the street as fast as her legs would carry her.
“Hello, cousin,” Rose Bontrager sang out from behind the display of bright candies in big glass jars. “Nice to see you again. How are you feeling?”
“I’m well, thank you. I’m sorry we didn’t get much of a chance to talk at Daniel’s wake.”
“That is understandable, but I’ll be staying in Bluebird for a while so our chance will come. Have you stopped in for something sweet?”
“No, thank you. I was wondering if you still had a bulletin board here.”
“Yes, right behind you on the wall. Let me know if you need anything.” Rose returned to boxing up varieties of fudge.
Hannah hurried to the wall behind a pretty whitewashed table with mismatched chairs and scanned every index card posted. However, none were from a Bernice Robb. “Rose, is Mr. Beechy here?”
A few minutes later, Jacob came limping out from the back. “Hello, Hannah. What can I help you with?” He leaned on his crutches, taking the weight off his recently broken knee.
“Do you remember an Englisher named Mrs. Robb?”
“Of course, I do. She used to stop in three or four times a month. Always bought the same thing—butter pecan fudge. Haven’t seen her in years.”
“Would you have her current address?”
“No, her purchases were always cash and carry. Why do you ask?”
Hannah felt weak in the knees. “It was just a long shot for a friend. I’d better get back to the hardware store.” She staggered to the door.
“Are you all right?” Jacob Beechy circled the counter in one direction while Rose went around the other.
“I’m fine,” Hannah assured them. “I was just riding in a truck and got a little carsick.” She waved goodbye and crossed the street to where Seth waited on the sidewalk. “Another dead end. You were right—this is hopeless.”
“Let’s go inside.” Seth tried to steady her arm. “You look very pale.”
“No, I’m going upstairs. Tell Mr. Howard I need to lie down. Perhaps he can tutor you on the basics.” Before Seth could respond, Hannah hurried around the corner of the building and climbed the stairs.
Once inside the safety of her apartment, she parted the curtains with one finger. As expected, Seth was still on the sidewalk, as though waiting for her to return. Now her heart ached for him as she let the curtain fall.
For the rest of the day, Hannah remained in bed. A few hours later Martha came to check on her with a container of chicken soup. Although she thanked Martha profusely, she could barely eat the salty broth and overcooked noodles. That night she tossed and turned for hours, thinking that her one opportunity to stand on her own two feet was slipping away. And she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
The next morning Hannah opened the store at the usual time despite the fact that she wasn’t able to place any new orders. Kings Hardware would have their own idea about the merchandise they would stock. Instead she busied herself tidying and organizing each shelf, rack, and display.
Then around noon, cousin Rose bounded into the store, letting the door slam shut. “Hannah. Hannah Klein, are you here?” she called breathlessly.
Hannah pushed to her feet from a crouched position. “I’m here. What’s wrong? Has something happened to Jacob?”
“No, no. He’s fine. Are you still looking for that English woman? If so, drop what you’re doing and come with me.”
Hannah braced one hand on the post. “Mrs. Bernice Robb is inside Beechy’s?”
“No, but her daughter is. She stopped in to buy her mother’s favorite fudge.” Rose took hold of Hannah’s hand. “Stop jabbering and go talk to her.”
Hannah pulled her dusty apron over her head and ran from the store, flipping the Open sign to Closed on her way out. She was panting by the time they reached Beechy’s cash register, where a well-dressed Englisher was pulling a credit card from her wallet. Rose quietly slipped behind the counter and donned a fresh apron.
“I think I’ll add a pound of maple walnut to my order,” the woman said. “That’s my husband’s favorite.”
“Nothing for yourself?” asked Rose. “Surely a quarter pound of something wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
The woman laughed. “You do know how to twist an arm. Okay, give me a quarter pound—no, make that a half pound of salted caramel. If I’m breaking my diet, might as well make it worth my while.”
While Rose’s helper boxed and bagged the candy, Hannah caught her breath. But when the woman turned to leave, Hannah placed herself exactly in her path. “Excuse me, ma’am. My cousin Rose says you might be Bernice Robb’s daughter.”
The Englisher smiled politely. “I am. I’m Carrie Morgan. Do you know my mom?”
“No, but my friend does. He stopped in to visit her, but someone else was living in her house now.”
“Yes, Mom had to sell her home a few years ago. It all but broke her heart. But when the doctor said she couldn’t drive anymore, I hated the idea of her living out there alone. What Mom actually misses the most is not being able to come to Beechy’s as often as she used to.”
“Does Mrs. Robb live with you and your family now?”
The woman exchanged a quick glance with Rose, who in turn, cleared her throat pointedly. Hannah knew her question was impertinent, if not downright rude, but this was her only chance. She held her breath and waited.
“No, we invited her to move in. We even painted the guest room sunny yellow, her favorite color. But since my husband and I work and our kids are in school, Mom said she preferred to be with people her age. She picked out an independent living facility twenty minutes from our house. She loves it. I’m on my way there with her favorite fudge.”
Hannah felt Rose’s gaze boring holes in her. “Thanks, Mrs. Morgan. Tell your mom her friends from Bluebird were asking about her.”
“I certainly will. Nice meeting you.” Carrie Morgan stepped around her. “Thanks, Rose,” she called over her shoulder. “See you next month.”
Hannah followed her out the door to her car. “Would that be the Lancaster County Assisted Living, south of the city?” she asked.
With one hand on the door handle, the Englisher paused. “No, Mom lives in Sunnybrook Care Center in Ephrata.” With a wave, Carrie Morgan drove away.
Hannah released a sigh of relief. She had no idea if the facility she’d named even existed, having pulled the name from the air. But now she knew the real place. And she had one last chance to save her dream.
Chapter 8
For several days Hannah worked in the store and trained Seth when he finished his shift as a carpenter. The Howards rarely stopped by since they were busy with garage sales, showing their home, and packing for their upcoming move. Hannah decided not to tell Seth what she’d learned about Mrs. Robb. Just because she had a current address for the woman didn’t mean she was any closer to finding the missing rings.
Seth learned quickly, worked hard, and greeted customers liked an old pro. He would make a great owner, except for the fact he had only half the down payment. She had the other half in the bank, but had no desire to disrespect her parents or disobey the bishop. Their church leader had arrived at the same conclusion as her father—a partnership would be possible only if Seth joined the church and resolved the issue with his family.
Money springing up in the garden next to the cabbages would be just as likely.
Then a week after meeting Carrie Morgan, Hannah got the break she desperately needed. She had barely slipped on her work apron when Rose Bontrager skipped into the store.
“How would you like to spend the day doing a good deed?” she asked with a smile.
“Love to, but I have to work today, same as you.”
Rose leaned both elbows on the glass counter. “Isn’t there someone who can take your place? It’s not every day you get a chance to deliver Valentine candy to senior citizens in a nursing home.”
“What are you up to, cousin?” Hannah narrowed her gaze.
“Jacob told me that every year Beechy’s delivers free candy to the residents of Sunnybrook Care Center. Doesn’t that name ring a bell with you?” Rose’s expression turned downright impish.
