Bygones (18 page)

“I’m Henry Braun. I’m pleased to meet you.” He hoped the Lord
would forgive him for his fib.

Marie shifted her shoulders, and Mitch’s arm slid away. “Henry is bringing us a load of coal today so I can keep the furnace running.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mitch leaned against the doorjamb, as if providing chaperonage. “Good. We can use the heat. Pretty chilly in here in the mornings.”

Henry thought the man would stay warmer if he’d button up his shirt. He backed up, reaching for the stair railing. “I’ll have that coal here late this afternoon, Marie. I’ll just dump it through the basement window, like always.”

“That sounds fine.”

He felt reluctant to leave, yet had no excuse to stay. “I’ll see you later.” He turned and jogged to his waiting car, hoping his face wasn’t as red as the heat behind his cheeks indicated.

Driving toward his shop, he wondered about his strange reaction. Why should he care if some young man put his arm around Marie? It wasn’t any of his concern. Marie had been taking care of herself ever since Beth was a tiny baby. She could continue to do so. Yet he couldn’t deny the protectiveness he felt toward her.

Pulling behind his shop, he killed the motor and sat in the car for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts. “I promised Lisbeth to do all I could to bring her home. But home meant Sommerfeld, not my heart,” he reminded himself sternly. “I can help her as a Christian brother concerned for her well-being, but I have to stop being jealous.”

Jealous
. The word made him set his jaw. He had no right to feel jealous toward anyone who showed attention to Marie. And he knew just how to get over that feeling.

Slamming out of his car, he headed to the back door of his shop and punched the key into the lock. “I’ll just get busy,” he said as he swung the door open and flipped on the lights. Unfortunately, no
matter how busy he kept himself, the image of Mitch’s arm draped over Marie’s shoulders would not leave him alone.

“So you’ve been to each of these farms and everyone said no?”

Beth nodded at Mitch, irritation rising again at the memory of all those polite yet firm refusals. “And there’s some neat stuff there, too.” She sighed, brushing aside the remaining crumbs on the tabletop. “But there are plenty more places to go. We’ll just have to hope for the best.”

Mitch shook his head, his dark eyes gleaming. “First we’ll go back to each of these farms. Give them a second chance.” Slipping his hand into his back pocket, he removed his wallet. He flopped it open and grinned, rifling his thumb over the stack of twenty-dollar bills. “Ammunition, dear Lissie. We’ll capture ’em yet.”

Mom interrupted. “Don’t make pests of yourselves. If the people don’t want to sell, they don’t have to. It’s their right to keep their own belongings.”

Beth turned in her chair and scowled at her mother, who stood at the sink, drying the last of the lunch dishes. Mom had been uptight all morning, fussing about Mitch being here and how it wasn’t appropriate to have him in the house. Now it seemed she didn’t want them to buy things for the boutique, either. Didn’t she understand how a successful store would benefit all of them? “What’s your problem today?”

Mom blinked in surprise. “I don’t have a problem. I’m just saying, don’t get pushy. If they don’t want to sell, they don’t have to.”

Mitch hooked his elbow on the back of the chair and grinned. “Aw, c’mon, Marie, I’m not going to threaten anybody. But the opportunities are too good here. Beth told me about some long bench with a lid that had a feather tick inside it. You’d never find anything like that in the city.”

Mom nodded. “A sleeping bench. They were fairly common when I was growing up.” She leaned against the counter, and a slight smile graced her lips. “My mom kept one in the basement, and she’d sleep down there during the summer when it got too hot in the house.”

Mitch nudged Beth’s shoulder. “See there? Another one available. Where do your grandparents live? We can ask about theirs, too.”

Mom’s smile turned into a grimace. “Don’t bother. They won’t sell.” She reached for another plate.

Beth huffed. She flipped her hand toward her mother. “That’s the attitude around here, Mitch. ‘They won’t sell.’ ” Irritation mingled with hopelessness. Sighing, she raised her shoulders in a defeated shrug. “We might as well just catalog everything in this house and plan on it being our starting inventory. Maybe we can use some of the money you got to hit some auctions and buy stuff that way.”

Mitch’s gaze narrowed, his eyes snapping. “Absolutely not. I took my vacation to come out here and build our inventory. That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” He took Beth’s hand and raised it to his lips. His chin whiskers pricked her skin. Rubbing his fingers over her knuckles, he leaned forward and whispered, “I’m a salesman, remember? Together we’ll convince ’em, Lissie. Trust me.”

Beth giggled, her earlier despondence melting away under his fervent gaze. She bounced to her feet. “Let’s go to the café and get on the Internet. We can scope out some of the stuff I’ve already seen and get an idea of secondary market value.”

Mitch rose more slowly. His lazy amble was only one of the things that drew Beth to him. His laid-back attitude was in direct contrast to her whirlwind emotions, and she loved how they balanced each other. They’d no doubt be very successful together in business. . .and in love. Her heart pounded with the thought.

She leaned into him, snuggling against his chest and releasing a
sigh of contentment when his arms closed around her. Still nestled, she peeked at her mother. “We’re going to the café, Mom. Be back by suppertime, okay?”

Mom gave a nod, but she didn’t push any words past her tightly clamped lips.

H
i, Aunt Marie.” Joanna’s daughter, Kyra, slid into the corner booth and took the menu Marie offered.

Marie’s heart fluttered, just as it had the first time one of Joanna’s children used the title. The feeling of acceptance the simple word
aunt
delivered made her want to close her eyes and savor it. “Hi, honey. What brings you out this afternoon? Didn’t you like what your mom was fixing for supper?”

Kyra laughed, the trickling tone very much like Joanna’s. “No, it isn’t that at all.” She laid the menu on the table and folded her hands on top of it. “I really came to see Beth, but she isn’t here. Again. I haven’t been able to track her down all week.”

Marie frowned. Beth had spent the entire week with Mitch, rarely appearing in the café except to grab something to eat and leave again. Mitch had indicated his vacation was nearing its end, and Marie admitted she’d be relieved to see him go. Beth’s dissatisfaction with Sommerfeld had increased tenfold during her boyfriend’s stay. The last few
X
s on the calendar had been penned with force.

“She’s been pretty occupied with Mitch.” Marie managed to smile.

Kyra tipped her head, her cap ribbons shifting with the movement. “Has she had much success in buying items?”

Marie shook her head. “Not much, I’m afraid. A few things, but not nearly what she’d hoped. But in true Quinn fashion, she isn’t willing to concede defeat. She intends to visit every house in Harvey County before she’s finished.”

Kyra laughed again. “She is determined!”

“More like stubborn,” Marie said on a sigh.

“You know, I really admire her,” Kyra said thoughtfully. “She sees what she wants, and she’s willing to go after it. A lot of people, when faced with the kind of negative responses she’s gotten, would just give up. But Beth continues to move forward because it means so much to her.”

Marie wasn’t sure Kyra fully understood Beth’s motivation—achieving financial security at any cost—but she appreciated her niece’s kind response. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am.” Kyra giggled, peeking around at the nearly empty café before leaning forward and whispering, “I had to be determined when it came to my relationship with Jacob. He’s as bashful as his uncle Henry, and he would never have made a move if I hadn’t let him know I was interested.” She shook her head, her blue eyes sparkling. “But determination pays off.” Pausing, she licked her lips. “You and Beth will be here for the wedding, won’t you?”

Marie’s heart sank. Despite having spent time with Joanna and her family over the past couple of weeks, no other relatives had approached to welcome Marie back. She was fairly certain she would not be welcome at a family event, but she hated to hurt Kyra’s feelings. She spoke cautiously. “I’m not sure right now, honey. We’ll probably go back to Cheyenne right after Christmas.”

Kyra nodded, a sweet smile tipping up her lips. “I understand. Well. . .if it works for you to be there, I’d sure like that.”

Marie’s heart melted. “Oh, I would, too.” She took in a deep breath, changing the subject. “You said you were looking for Beth. What did you need?”

Kyra sat up straight, eagerness showing in her bearing. “A bunch of us are driving to Newton tomorrow night for a skating party. I wondered if she and Mitch would like to join us. Several of her cousins are going, along with our friends, and we thought it would be a good way for her to get to know us better.”

Marie slid into the opposite side of the booth. “Oh, Kyra, it’s so nice of you to want to include her, but. . .” Beth spending an evening with the Mennonite young people? While Mitch was in town? Marie couldn’t envision it.

“We won’t be out late,” Kyra added. “With service on Sunday, we need to be home by ten at the latest. We all plan to meet at Uncle Art’s business and carpool, and we always eat at McDonald’s before we go to the skating rink, so we’ll leave at five o’clock.”

Marie sat silently, uncertain how to avoid hurting Kyra’s feelings.

Kyra leaned back, linking her fingers together. “Just tell her, okay? If she and Mitch are there, they can ride over with Jacob and me. If they’re not, I’ll know they didn’t want to go.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Beth stood in the hallway, hands on hips, a scowl marring her pretty face. “Skating. . .in a skirt, yet!”

Marie glanced over Beth’s outfit—meshy-looking pink sweater, flaring peasant-style skirt, and brown T-strap flats. Six inches of bare leg showed between skirt and shoes. “You’ll need socks.”