Living in Harmony (31 page)

R
eady to go?” asked John. “I'm free until suppertime. In fact, if we miss supper and are forced to grab a bite in town, so be it.” He beamed with way more energy than usual for a Monday.

Amy didn't feel half so peppy, even though her chores had been less tiring than his. “I'm not sure this is a good day to go after all.” She hung up the damp dish towel to dry.

John wasn't remotely deterred. “This is a perfect day to go. Thomas will be gone all day on district business, and Sally went next door with her little ones. We are free as birds.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I'm a bird with a clipped wing.” Amy sighed while glancing toward the stairs. “Nora still hasn't come down yet. She just moaned and buried her head beneath the quilt when I tried waking her this morning.”

“And why would that affect our looking at farms for sale?” He leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I don't know if she has one of her migraines or is simply being lazy.” Amy wiped down the kitchen table for the second time.

John pursed his lips while pondering this. “Either way, we're not talking about Aden or Jeremiah. We're discussing Nora, who is capable of taking care of herself while we're gone.”

Amy tossed her rag into the sink. “I know, but I'm afraid if we leave that she might get into trouble.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I'd planned to ask her to come with us today.”

John's eyes nearly bugged from his face. “Why would we take her along? I don't need her negative comments when this will be
our
farm.”

“But look at the stunts she pulled at the pig roast when I let her out of sight.”

This time he rolled his eyes. “You can't watch her every minute of the day to prevent bad things from happening, Amy. You are not her keeper.”

“I know that, but maybe we should keep tabs until Elam returns to his logging crew.”

“He was fired. Who knows if he'll find another job away from home? Besides, the real estate agent is meeting us at the first property. Everything is set up for today.” He opened his hands, almost in supplication.

“Then let me get my outer bonnet,” she agreed. But inside Amy felt anything but agreeable. Nora needed to stay out of trouble or Thomas might send her back to Pennsylvania. And who would look out for her there? Their grandparents were too old to understand a young woman testing her wings before settling down. Nora might make irrevocable mistakes without Amy's guidance. She might not be able to control Elam, but she could prevent Nora from ruining her reputation with him.

A few minutes later Amy had her bonnet and purse, but Nora still hadn't come downstairs. So she had no choice but to paste on a smile and leave the Detweiler farm with her husband-to-be. She couldn't expect John to wait forever for the perfect opportunity.

When they arrived at the first farm, the English Realtor was
pacing the length of the porch. “There you are,” she called in a melodic voice. “I should have picked you up instead of meeting you here. We would have saved time. Hi, I'm Jane Chadd.” She pumped their hands in turn, wearing the whitest smile Amy had even seen. Then the woman marched up to the front door and threw it open with a flourish.

“Now, don't be shocked,” said Mrs. Chadd. “No one has lived here in ten years. Once those holes in the roof are patched and the broken window glass has been replaced, you can start on the interior one room at a time.”

Amy followed John inside a building that should have been torn down, not put up for sale.

“Mind your step,” the Realtor cautioned. “The last tenants left behind some unfortunate souvenirs.”

“Oh, good grief!” Amy quickly pulled up her apron to cover her mouth and nose.

“Now, Amy,” murmured John. “It doesn't smell anymore. Those were left last winter. Raccoons prefer living outdoors until the snow starts to fly.” He stepped over the dung and followed the Realtor on a whirlwind tour of the dilapidated hovel.

“Is there plenty of good fertile land that comes with the house? Is that why we're looking at this property?” Amy whispered conspiratorially to him so as not to offend the agent. Broken windowpanes, sagging floorboards, and missing stair treads indicated a house beyond repair in her estimation.

“
Nein
. More than half the acres are wooded, while the tillable land has lain fallow for years.” John leaned on a saggy post that threatened to give way.

Apparently, Amy's facial expression indicated she needed no further elaboration.

“Are we ready to see the next place, folks?” asked the bubbly Realtor. “Why don't we leave your buggy here and take my car to save time? I'll bring you back when we're finished.”

Amy couldn't exit the shack fast enough. It hadn't contained one redeemable feature. Climbing into the backseat of the sedan, she let John ride up front with the Realtor.

“I believe you'll like the second property better, Miss King.” Mrs. Chadd spoke to Amy's reflection in the rearview mirror. “It hasn't been vacant for nearly as long.”

It would be impossible not to.
“That's refreshing to hear.” Amy kneaded her knuckles in her lap and stared at the passing scenery.

John turned around to face her, practically strangling in the seat belt. “We are touring in the reverse order of my preference. I saved the best property for last.”

If the first one was any indication, perhaps we should skip ahead to the end,
she thought, but she asked, “You visited these earlier while I was gone?”

“
Jah
, several times. Plus a few others I already eliminated.”

“I don't see why you didn't eliminate the raccoon hotel.” Amy's tone sounded more sarcastic than she'd intended.

“I included that one because it was close to my brother's house, knowing how fond you've grown of Sally.”

“Well, that would be an advantage.” She smiled politely as a twinge of motion sickness began. Backseats wreaked havoc on her stomach.

The second farm was indeed in better condition, but the one-story house had small, cramped rooms. Amy longed for large, airy second-floor bedrooms. She marched through the house as though running a marathon—in through the front door and out the back in record time. “On to the next property, Mrs. Chadd,” she announced.

“Absolutely, Miss King. I aim to find the perfect home for you two.” The Realtor's smile never faltered the entire afternoon, as though smiling was part of her job description.

The third stop yielded no house whatsoever. Eighty acres of tillable farmland on a high plateau suitable for a homesite were up for
sale. Another forty acres of backwoods could be optioned, along with stream access for an additional sum.

“What do you think of a three-story, four-bedroom frame house set maybe fifty yards from the road?” John used his hands to form a picture frame in the direction where he would position their house.

“Sounds like an awfully long driveway in the winter. Plus, we have no architect or builder, and where would we live during the construction? We shouldn't rely on your brother's generosity indefinitely.”

“If I had my way, we would be married already,” he whispered into her ear. “Thomas is the one dragging his feet regarding our wedding date.”

“How much are the owners asking?” she asked Mrs. Chadd. Amy gasped upon hearing her reply. “But that's more than the first property. And it had a house.”

“Not one you would live in.” John's veneer of patience began to crack.

“True, but that price sounds high for bare land.” Amy tightened her cloak against the wind.

“Didn't your fiancé mention you moved here from Lancaster County?” Mrs. Chadd's demeanor also faltered a notch. “The price per acre here must be much cheaper than back home.”

“I suppose so, but I wasn't in the market to purchase anything in Pennsylvania.” Amy rocked on her heels, chewed on her lip, and tried not to look at either of them.

“Not to worry,
liewi
. I've saved the best for last.” He offered her his arm. “We have plenty of daylight left—”

“I'm starving,” she interrupted. “Could we stop for lunch? I didn't pack us a hamper.”

John's lips thinned as he frowned. “I suppose so, but I want you to have enough time to see the final property.”

“I know just the place,” chirped Mrs. Chadd. “We can grab a quick sandwich and cup of coffee and still get out to Thorndike.
Have you tried the deli by the railroad crossing? They make the best homemade soups and salads.”

On the woman prattled while Amy and John climbed back into the car. It was a good thing Mrs. Chadd was talkative because Amy needed a chance to think. Four different properties in one day seemed too much to evaluate.

But she found herself in better spirits after lunch, revitalized by food and caffeine. Her interest piqued with the Realtor's description: seventy acres—equally divided between pasture and cornfields—and only one year fallow. The former owner had farmed organic, so the soil contained no pesticide residue. And the property was being sold to settle an estate.

“The elderly couple died ten months ago, within weeks of each other,” said the agent, heading out of town toward Thorndike.

“How sad,” Amy murmured. She rolled down the window for fresh air.

“That often happens when people have been married as long as the Morrells had.”

“And you said when we looked at this property before that neither of their children wishes to take over the farm?” John said, turning toward the agent.

“That's right. Both kids are lawyers in Boston. They just want the property sold to finalize the estate.”

“That's the truly sad part.” John shook his head from side to side. “Giving up their family's heritage.”

“The eldest son would love to sell the place to a farming family rather than see it cut up into development lots.” Mrs. Chadd grinned at Amy over her shoulder.

Amy shrugged, but she felt her excitement build as they drove up the Morrell driveway. Perched on the highest point, the house commanded a view of almost the entire property. It faced south, so the front windows would catch the afternoon sunlight in the winter. A stand of pines directly behind the house would block frigid
winds from the north. It had a dark-green metal roof, white siding, and black shutters. A windmill spun lazily in the breeze on an adjacent hill. Shrubbery and flower beds looked as though they had been tended this past summer. “Oh, my. Is that the kitchen garden?” she asked, pressing her face to the glass. A white picket fence enclosed a quarter-acre plot. Hollyhocks and sunflowers stood sentinel along the fence line.

“Pretty, isn't it?” Mrs. Chadd parked the car near the back porch. “The landscaping service tilled everything under last spring to await the next live-in gardener, except for those flowers. They were too lovely to chop down.”

Amy jumped out when John opened her door. “There are two barns?” She gazed up at two huge, gambrel-roofed outbuildings.

John beamed as though the property already belonged to him. “Yes, one for livestock and one for grain storage with a small office and a workshop. The office and workshop have a concrete floor and electricity, but the wiring can easily be removed. Even inside the house, wires run through conduit, not hidden inside walls. The electricity had been added after the house was built.”

The agent scanned the computer printout. “The house is well constructed too. There are no shoddy materials in this old beauty.” She opened the front door, allowing a few leaves to blow onto a faded area rug. “Remember, no one has lived here for more than a year. But with fresh paint and a little elbow grease, this could be a showplace again.”

“We're not interested in showplaces, Mrs. Chadd,” corrected John. “Only a sturdy Amish home in which we can raise a family.”

She grinned, taking no offense. “Then we'll forget about custom drapes. Go through the Morrell homestead on your own. Take your time. I'll wait for you right there.” She pointed at an antique bentwood rocker, the sole item of furniture in the room. “Whoever cleaned out the parents' possessions decided to leave this piece behind.”

Amy stood behind the chair to assess the view from the front room window. Rolling hills and valleys stretched as far as the eye could see. She hurried through the first two floors and up to the attic, and then she wandered through the whole house slowly a second time. John kept pace with her but wisely remained silent, allowing her to form her own opinion. In short, she loved it. It had a huge country kitchen with an L-shaped dining area, a large front room, a small nursery or den, and one bathroom on the first floor. Four additional bedrooms and another bath sprawled across the second floor. The third-floor attic had two dormer windows from which she was certain you could see the ocean on a clear day. The basement offered an outside entrance and plenty of cold storage space for vegetables.

No broken windows, no gaping holes in the roof, and no tenant family of raccoons. “This is a very large house,” she said to John. Amy clasped his hand as they stood in an attic dormer, transfixed by the panoramic view.