Finders Keepers
HeartQuest brings you romantic fiction
with a foundation of biblical truth.
Adventure, mystery, intrigue, and suspense
mingle in these heartwarming stories of
men and women of faith striving to build
a love that will last a lifetime.
May HeartQuest books sweep you
into the arms of God, who longs for you
and pursues you always.
Visit Tyndale’s exciting Web site at
www.tyndale.com
Check out the latest about HeartQuest Books at
www.heartquest-romances.com
Copyright © 1999 by Catherine Palmer. All rights reserved.
Cover illustration copyright © 2000 by Toni Kurrasch. All rights reserved.
Author’s photo copyright © 2000 by Childress Studio. All rights reserved.
Interior map copyright © 1999 by Jerry Dadds. All rights reserved.
HeartQuest
is a registered trademark of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Edited by Kathryn S. Olson
Designed by Melinda Schumacher
Scripture quotations are taken from the
Holy Bible
, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Palmer, Catherine, date
Finders keepers / Catherine Palmer.
p. cm. — (HeartQuest)
ISBN 0-8423-1164-5
I. Title. II. Series.
PS3566.A495F56 1999
813'.54—dc21
99-29831
Printed in the United States of America
07 06 05 04 03 02 01 00
11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4
This book is for Andrei Joseph Palmer. Your joy, determination, and devotion to Jesus Christ are my constant inspiration.
I love you, my precious son.
Everyone who seeks, finds.
M
ATTHEW 7:8
HeartQuest Books by Catherine Palmer
Heartwarming Anthologies from HeartQuest
Without the devoted help of so many people, this book would not exist. I want to thank my beloved husband, Tim, for your faithfulness in reading and editing each of my manuscripts before it goes out. Thanks to Geoffrey for your enthusiasm over your mom’s writing. Kathy Olson’s professional, loving, and judicious in-house editing is invaluable. I praise God for allowing me to work with this wonderful woman. My deepest appreciation also goes to the HeartQuest team, whose dedication to our mission can be seen in every novel. Becky Nesbitt, Kathy Olson, Anne Goldsmith, Diane Eble, Danielle Crilly, and Jan Pigott—I love you, fellow gardeners! The vision and encouragement of Ron Beers and Ken Petersen have paved the path for everything I do. May God bless you both. I thank Dr. Kenneth Taylor and Mark Taylor for supporting my ministry and for being such beacons in the world of Christian publishing. And Travis Thrasher, of course, you are my rock. Thanks for making Tyndale so much fun to write for!
I also want to express my deepest appreciation to those who have had such profound, life-changing effects on Andrei: Sue Hogue, Marcia Heberle, and Glenda Briggs. The classroom teachers who have brought the light of learning into Andrei’s life are Mrs. Tyson, Mrs. Cox, Mrs. Chapman, Mrs. Eisinger, and Mrs. Williamson. Others who have shaped and molded our little fellow are Mrs. Stegman, Mr. Nolke, Mrs. Hanson, Mrs. Wolf, Mrs. Winkler, Mrs. D., Mrs. Steenbergen, all the cafeteria workers, and Mr. Love. Thanks to Marsha for teaching Andrei how to make pottery. May God richly bless each and every one of you.
“I am like the rose that came out of the gravy,” Nikolai Hayes announced as he walked down the steps of Ambleside Chapel following the Easter morning service. “You know, Mommy? That rose?”
“A rose came out of gravy?” Elizabeth Hayes took her son’s hand to cross the street. “I’m not sure I understand, sweetheart.”
“Like in the song at church,” Nick said. “Up from the gravy, a rose.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips to stifle a laugh. “Up from the grave he arose,” she corrected.
“That’s what I said. When you got me from the orphanage in Romania, it was like I came out of the gravy.” He spread his arms and launched himself into a spin across the sidewalk. “And now I am a rose!”
With a gasp, she caught his thin arms just in time to prevent him from twirling out into the street. Not that the eight-year-old would have been in much danger. Traffic crawled through Ambleside, Missouri, even on this Easter Sunday morning. Most folks had chosen to walk to church beneath the pink haze of redbud trees that lined the town square. A gust of fresh air from the direction of the nearby Missouri River scattered white dogwood blossoms across the pale green grass as families strolled home for dinner.
“Good morning, Miss Hayes!” A stooped gentleman lifted his hat, his face a wreath of soft wrinkles. “And young Master Nikolai. Good morning to you, too.”
“It’s Boompah!” Nick cried, pulling away from his mother and racing across the grass. “Didn’t you go to church, Boompah? Today’s Easter! Jesus died and came alive again, did you hear?”
Jacob Jungemeyer chuckled as the child danced around him. Nick had always called the old man Boompah, though no one knew why. Now everyone close to him used the nickname. “I heard that good news, Nick,” Boompah said. “And I went to church this morning, just like you. But my church is that way—down Main Street past Zimmerman’s Sundries.”
“Guess what, Boompah—I’m like the rose that came out of the gravy,” Nick declared.
“Oh? And how is that?”
“Hey look, Nick, there’s Montgomery,” Elizabeth cut in, hoping to avert a detailed explanation. Mr. Jungemeyer had come to America during the Second World War, and his own English could be a little garbled at times. She felt sure their similar backgrounds played a part in the bond of friendship between the old man and the child she had adopted three years before.
“How are you feeling today, Boompah?” she asked as Nick raced off to greet his best friend. No doubt Montgomery would understand perfectly about the rose and the gravy.
“Ach, I am down in the back, as they say it.” Boompah rubbed his spine. “Maybe Cleo Mueller will be able to find a pill for me at his drugstore on Monday. I call him.”
“Good idea.” She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lean against her as they walked across the square past a bronze statue of Harry Truman. “Would you like to have dinner with Nick and me today, Boompah? I’ve got a ham in the oven, and I whipped up a batch of fresh yeast rolls this morning.”
“Thank you, but I go to Al Huff’s house this Sunday, like always. They expect me, you know. Oh, Elizabeth, I am sure you will miss eating the Easter dinner with Grace. I think your church must seem very empty without her this morning.”
Elizabeth nodded, recalling the jaunty rose-strewn hat she had always spotted three pews ahead of her. Grace Chalmers had never missed a Sunday service in her life. She was deeply missed by everyone in Ambleside, but Elizabeth was sure she felt the old woman’s absence more than most. The huge brick Chalmers House with its arched windows and lacy gingerbread porch sat right next to the antiques shop she owned.
The day Elizabeth had hung the sign for Finders Keepers, Grace had dropped by the shop bearing a gift of twenty-five embroidered handkerchiefs to add to the inventory. In addition, she had purchased a small china tea set, delighted because she had owned one just like it as a child. Grace and Elizabeth had become fast friends, and the old woman’s death the month before had been an unexpected blow.
“The auction is tomorrow,” Elizabeth said as she and Boompah reached the corner of the square on which a replica of the Liberty Bell sat on display. “I can’t believe everything’s going to be sold. It seems a shame. The china her mother hand painted. The pillows Grace embroidered. Her books.”
“The books. Ach, it will be impossible to think of Chalmers House without the books. And what is to become of the mansion itself?”
“Pearlene told me Grace willed the place to her nephew—lock, stock, and barrel. He’s the one who scheduled the auction.”
Elizabeth stopped and gazed across the street at the ivy-draped house. To the best of her knowledge, this so-called nephew had never visited his aunt a single time during her long life. He would have no idea that Grace had planted the lilac bushes that were in full bloom near the long front porch. He’d never seen his elderly relative on her knees weeding the dianthus that filled the central circle in the walkway leading to the ornate double doors. Grace had been so pleased that the steady breeze off the river wafted the sweet scent of her flowers across the whole town.
