A Wedding at the Orange Blossom Inn (3 page)

She was just about to consider the best way to counsel Tricia when she remembered what had happened the last time she'd stuck her nose into another couple's romance.

It wasn't that long ago that Michael Knoxx had been her
guest for a few weeks while he'd been recovering from surgery. During this time, he'd developed a relationship with Penny, one of Beverly's employees. When Beverly had seen the two of them holding hands, she'd overreacted and had made quite a mess of things. Eric, the actual owner of the inn, had given her a stern talking-to, as had Michael. And because she'd known that both men were right and she'd made an error in judgment, Beverly had promptly apologized.

She'd also chosen to use that experience as a learning opportunity.

Which meant that she really shouldn't stick her nose into something that wasn't her business. Yet. But all bets were off if she became aware of Tricia being in danger of getting her feelings hurt. If that happened? Well, she would do whatever it took to make sure Tricia didn't make the same mistakes she had.

E
mma, how is it that you have three girls and a part-time job but you still manage to get everywhere ten minutes early?” Dorrie Beachy asked as she slipped into their booth at Yoder's Restaurant.

“I don't know,” Emma said with a tight smile, though actually she was pretty sure she did. Dorrie had a loving husband who liked to spend time with her. Emma knew if Sanford was still in her life, she'd likely be running late a lot more often. “Don't worry about it, though. I haven't been waiting long.”

After looking at her a bit more closely, Dorrie turned her mug right-side-up when the server headed their way, signaling her need for coffee. “Have you ordered pie yet?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you. Do you know what kind you want today?”

“Key lime,” Dorrie said, smiling at the server as she poured coffee into her cup. “What about you, Emma?”

“Chocolate.”

After the server left, Dorrie narrowed her eyes. “You want chocolate? Now I know something is wrong. Start talking.”

“Dorrie, this fascination you have about matching pies to moods needs to stop.”

“Why should it? It always rings true. When you're happy, you choose coconut cream. When you're sad, you pick a berry pie. And when you're especially troubled, you ask for chocolate.”

“I don't do that.”

“Oh, yes you do. Every single time.” After tasting her coffee, carefully adding another bit of cream, then stirring with the same kind of care Emma figured gourmet chefs put into fancy dishes, Dorrie leaned forward. “What's wrong? Are you worried about Frankie?”

“My beagle?
Nee
.”

“You sure? I heard he got loose again two days ago.”

“He did. But he's home safe. And none the worse for the wear.”

“So what is it?”

“Dorrie, we are meeting to plan what to make for our booth for the school fund-raiser. We did not meet to discuss my life.”

“Ah. So you're troubled by your life. I know the girls are good. And Frankie is
gut
, too. So that only leaves you. What's wrong, Emma? Are you finally lonely?”

Finally lonely?

There was no “finally.” She'd been lonely for years now, which was quite an accomplishment considering she was never in a room by herself.

Immediately, tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked at them
furiously and told herself that she was simply frustrated by Dorrie's rudeness.
Not
that her longtime girlfriend might have hit the nail on the head. “Oh, for heaven's sake, Dorrie. Stop pestering me.”

“I won't stop,” she said quietly as their server placed their pie in front of them, each heaped high with freshly whipped cream. “Someone has to be completely honest with you.”

She was wrong, though. The trouble was that her two sisters, their spouses, her parents, and even Sanford's parents were completely honest with her, too. They didn't have the slightest bit of trouble letting her know that they expected her to always, always,
always
miss Sanford. And while she was grateful for their love and concern—and for the fact that they all lived nearby—she wasn't as grateful about their constant need to give her advice, or their unwillingness to let her move forward. After all, it had been three years since Sanford had died of congestive heart failure.

Three long years.

“I canna speak about this now. And certainly not here, in the middle of Yoder's.”

Dorrie shrugged. “The Lord picks the right time, dear.”

“He did not pick this time. You did.” And because she was so irritated, Emma shoved a too-big bite of chocolate pie in her mouth. As the decadent mixture of dark chocolate and whipped cream hit her taste buds, she slowly began to feel a little measure of calm.

“So, are you lonely?” Dorrie asked in her blunt way.

And just like that, her little bit of calm vanished. “I've
been
lonely. But that is what happens when a woman loses her husband.”

“You've been mourning. I think there's a difference.”

“I didn't know you were such an expert.”

“I'm not. But I am an expert on my best friend. What has happened recently that put you in this mood?”

“I'm not sure.” But of course she was. It was that long walk to her house by Jay's side. That long walk where she'd chatted with a man and laughed. It was only after she'd gotten home that she realized she hadn't compared him to Sanford. Instead, she'd been thinking that she liked his smile and had been glad he was carrying Frankie.

She'd also been thinking how nice it was to be around someone who understood what it was like to promise to love someone until death parted them . . . and then feel betrayed because death had come far too soon.

Looking at Dorrie, with her wide-eyed expression and her cherubic cheeks, Emma realized that she was probably right. She did need to talk to someone, and it needed to be someone she could trust. She'd known Dorrie since they were children, having grown up next door to each other in Pinecraft.

Perhaps the Lord had put them together today for this very reason.

Her friend was patiently sipping coffee, waiting for Emma to unburden herself.

“When Frankie ran away, the girls and I discovered him in the back of the Orange Blossom Inn. One of the guests had picked up a pizza and he and his boys were eating it on the back patio.” Remembering the pizza paw prints, she grimaced. “I mean, they'd been
attempting
to eat their pizza. But then Frankie had shown up.”

Dorrie's lips twitched. “Frankie struck again.” Setting down her mug, she said, “How bad was it?”

“Frankie's behavior?” Emma shrugged. “About the same as always. Though he didn't throw up, so it could have been worse.”

“Indeed.”

“Um, anyway, the man at the inn with the pizza? He is a widower.”

“And he has
kinner
, too?”

“
Jah
, he does. Three boys.”

“Same ages as yours?”

“
Nee
. The oldest is almost twenty, I'd say. The youngest is about Lena's age, give or take a year or two.”

“Where are they visiting from?”

“Charm, Ohio,” Emma replied. “But they did not come to Sarasota simply to visit. They are moving here.”

“Is that right?” Dorrie took another bite of pie.

“
Jah
. He said they were moving in another couple of days.” Her voice drifted off. So far, she hadn't said anything of note or anything to warrant chocolate pie, but Emma knew Dorrie was used to her reticent ways. In the give-and-take of a relationship forged over decades, Dorrie merely continued her rapid-fire questions.

“Where is he moving to? Did he say?”

“He's going to take over the old Borntrager Organic Farm.”

Dorrie smiled. “He is a farmer.”

“Jah.”
She tried to remember everything he'd said. “I think he is looking forward to farming in the sunshine.”

“Oh, to be sure. Well, the farm isn't next door, but it is nice and close. Just a SCAT stop or two away. Convenient.”

Emma hadn't thought of that, but Dorrie was right. The Sarasota County Area Transit shuttle would make it easy for Jay and his family to get to the heart of Pinecraft in no time at all.

And, she supposed, it would make it easy for her to do some shopping out there. If she ever had a need to do that.

Around another bite of pie, Emma said, “Don't act like it
means anything. But, um, I think meeting him made me realize that maybe I'm not the only person in the world to suffer such a great loss.” Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to say the rest of what she'd been thinking. “I think I would like to get to know him better. You know, because he is someone who I have so much in common with.”

“To be sure. I've met other widows and widowers, but not too many who are so young. Or who have three
kinner
.”

“He seemed nice.” She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. “He was so nice, he even carried Frankie all the way home. And Frankie let him!”

“If he's carrying that dog around, he would have to be nice. Frankie is one hefty beagle.”

Dorrie had a point. Emma smiled at that . . . just before she remembered what her family would say. “I don't want a new husband, Dorrie. I don't mean to sound like I do.” She winced as she imagined Patty's and Mercy's reactions. “I'm afraid my sisters won't understand that I only want a new friend.”

“Of course,” Dorrie soothed. “But making a new friend is a good thing. And just think, I bet this man— What's his name?”

“Jay.”

“I bet this man Jay is feeling mighty blessed indeed to have met you. I bet he's been feeling alone, too.”

“Jah.”
Her stomach churned. “A new friend is always a blessing. I, um, just wish I knew what I was supposed to do now.”

Dorrie pointedly looked over to the window where folks could simply walk in and buy pie. “When he moves in, you should bring him a pie.”

Emma weighed the pros and cons of that idea. She knew where the Borntrager farm was, most everyone did. After the girls went to school one day, she could hop on the SCAT, deliver
her pie, and officially welcome him to Pinecraft. She could go as his friend. Why, there was nothing untoward about that. Everyone needed a new friend.

But just the thought of bringing Jay a pie . . . Emma worried what would happen when not only her family, but Sanford's parents heard that she'd done such a thing. They wouldn't want to hear how innocent her gesture was, nor would they say how thoughtful it was to bring a widower with three boys such a simple gift. They would ask her questions and chide her for behaving in an immodest way. In no time at all, her simple gesture would reach mammoth proportions.

Even thinking about the fuss they would raise made Emma shake her head. “That would be too forward.”

Dorrie scoffed. “It might be too forward if you wanted something in return, but you don't. And it's especially not forward for a single man moving in with three boys,” she added in her matter-of-fact way. “Boys eat a lot, you know. Besides, everyone likes pie.”

“That is true.”

Once again she contemplated the pros and cons, and—to her dismay—began running through the choices of pie. If Dorrie's theories were true, it seemed that, along with delicious flavors, pie could be filled with certain hidden meanings. “Now I'm even more confused! What kind of pie should I bring? I don't want to give the wrong impression.”

Dorrie laughed. “Take cherry.”

“Cherry?”

“Cherry pie is cheery.”

Emma winced at the play on words. “Oh, brother.”

Dorrie chuckled. “I know that sounded silly, but I am a pie
connoisseur, you know. You should remember that and listen to me.”

“You are more of a pie soothsayer,” Emma teased. For sure and for certain, her best friend never failed to make her laugh.

“Whatever I am, I always know the best pie for the occasion. It really is a shame I can't bake too good.”

“You can't bake at all. Or sew.”

“I can raise four
kinner
, clean my
haus
, and take care of all the bookkeeping for my husband's job. That is enough.”

“You are also a
gut
friend.”

She smiled. “Does that mean what I think it does? Are you going to listen?”

Making a decision, Emma nodded. “All right. I'm going to do it. I'm going to wait a couple of days, and then I'm going to take Jay and his boys a cherry pie.”

“Wunderbaar!”

“But if everything falls apart and my family makes me feel like a Jezebel, I'm going to blame you.”

“Nothing is going to fall apart.” Reaching out, Dorrie grasped her hand. “See how
gut
our Lord is? He gave you a new friend this week. A friend who knows only too well the burdens and pain you have been facing. This is a blessing.”

“
You
are such a blessing to me, Dorrie. I walked in here feeling completely confused. And now I feel like everything is going to be all right again.”

Dorrie looked delighted. “Glad I could help.” Then, in her usual efficient manner, she pulled out her notebook. “Now, let's get our real reason for being here taken care of. What should we make for our booth?”

“I was thinking socks.”

“Socks?”

“Socks are something you can make easily. You might not be able to bake an edible batch of cookies but you can knit as well as anyone.”

“This is true.”

“You and I can each knit a pair of socks in two days. If we get some other women involved, we'll have a couple of dozen socks to sell, and the money will go to a good cause.”

“Socks it is.”

“You're not going to argue?”

“Nope. You might trust me where pie is concerned, but you are the one with the best ideas for the fund-raiser.”

“We're a good pair, Dorrie.
Danke
for today.”

“Anytime, dear. Anytime at all.”