Murder, Served Simply (21 page)

F
rom my car, I called the sheriff.

“Is this a social call?” Mitchell asked in my ear.

“I hope you think every time I call is a social call,” I said.

“I know better than to believe that.”

I frowned. “Okay, you win. It's half social, half murder.”

He sighed.

I reminded him about the Christmas Eve party at the Grabers, and I also told him about the fight that I witnessed between Jasper and Wade last night at the hotel's barn. Maybe I should have told him about it the night before, but I had been so preoccupied with taking Junie home and making it to the trustees' meeting that I'd forgotten.

“I know Jasper and Wade don't like each other. It was obvious from the interviews with them.”

“What did they say about each other?” I asked eagerly.

“I got a Christmas surprise for you today,” he said.

“Are you trying to change the subject?”

“Yep.” He chuckled. “Is it working?”

“Well, yeah. What girl doesn't like a Christmas surprise?”

There was laughter in his voice. “I'll give it to you tomorrow.” He hung up.

I got to Running Stitch and stayed with Mattie in the shop until closing. Business was surprisingly brisk as shoppers came in for last-minute Christmas gifts. At four thirty, Mattie flipped the
CLOSED
sign around on the front door. “Won't it be nice to have a couple of days off, Angie, to spend with your family?”

I nodded as I swept the floor like we always did at the end of the day. “This is the first day since my parents arrived in Ohio that I haven't gotten a dozen calls and texts from my mother. She and Dad are on a mission to decorate the Christmas tree that he bought last night, and, I think, decorate a large portion of my house. My mother always loves a project.”

“That's nice.” She tied her bonnet ribbon tightly under her chin as she prepared to go out into the cold.

“Wait until you see the tree. You'll get a chance if you go caroling tonight with Rachel.”

She grinned. “Great! I bet it's amazing.”

I shook my head, far less certain it would be, but the project was getting my mother off my back, which was worth it.

My cell phone rang. I removed it from my pocket. It was a Holmes County number, but I didn't recognize it. “Go ahead and go home, Mattie. You've worked hard. It's time for you to start your holiday.”

“Danki,”
she said, and stepped out the door.

“Hello?” I said.

“Where are you?” an irritated voice asked.

“Martha?” I guessed.

“
Ya
, it is me. Where are you? You are supposed to be at the hotel helping me close up the quilt show. Shoppers are here picking up the quilts that they bought, and I have to deal with it all alone. Not that I should have expected anything more when working with you.”

I slammed the heel of my hand against my forehead. “I'm so sorry that I forgot. I will get there as soon as possible.”

Without saying good-bye, she hung up.

I sighed. I still had a long way to go to mend that broken fence. “Oliver, we have to stop at the hotel before heading home for Christmas.”

The Frenchie whimpered.

“I know, but it can't be helped.”

Twenty minutes later, Oliver and I stepped into the Swiss Valley Hotel. I was starting to believe that I was a guest living there myself, since I had been there so often in the last few days.

I waved at Bethanne as Oliver and I made a beeline for the sitting room. The place was neat and tidy. Martha had taken all of the quilts off their racks and had labeled them with the name of the person who purchased each quilt. I noticed that at least five were missing. Presumably, the owners of those quilts had already come and claimed their prizes.

Martha was at the far end of the room, accepting a
check from one of the shoppers. Two other women were in line.

I unzipped my coat. “Can I help you?” I asked the next customer waiting.

“Oh, yes, thank you. I'm in a hurry. There's so much that needs to be done before the holiday.”

I smiled. “Let's find your quilt then and get you out of here.”

Oliver settled under one of the armchairs for a nap.

A half hour later all of the shoppers who planned to pick up their quilts before Christmas had come and gone. The remaining quilts would go to my shop, where the shoppers would pick up their purchases after the holiday.

Martha and I folded a queen-sized Double Wedding Ring quilt. It was from Martha's shop and was quite pretty. I wouldn't say it was better than any of my aunt's quilts, but it was very well done.

“Martha,” I said as I took the quilt from her hands, “I'm so sorry. The quilt show completely slipped my mind today.”

She packed up her basket with quilt notions, needles, and thread. “Maybe you are too preoccupied with others' business to worry about your own.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone in the county knows that you are trying to find out how Eve Shetler was killed. I don't understand why. It's none of your concern.”

I placed the quilt on the large stack of others that I would take to my car. “I met Eve and I liked her. I like her sister, Junie. If I can help in some way, then I will.”

“That is why you are
Englisch
, and I am Amish. I know when it is not my place.” She folded a lap quilt. “Everyone knows Eve got into the mess all by herself. The moment she left the Amish way, she made a choice. Her death is one of the consequences.”

I gathered the quilted place mats and stuck them in a basket to take to my car. “You don't really mean that.”

“How do you know what I mean?” She glared at me.

I sighed. “Can't we get past this feud over my
aenti
's shop? You have your own store now, and it's doing well.”

She frowned. “Yes, I do have my own store now, and it will be everything that yours is not.
Authentically
Amish. The moment you inherited Running Stitch, no one could say that about Eleanor's shop anymore.”

I sighed and watched her go. Oliver wiggled out from his hiding place and whimpered. I patted his head. “Not everyone is going to like us, buddy. It's best if we learn that now.”

He barked.

After I loaded my car with all the quilts and trappings from the quilt shop, I stopped by the desk to say hello to Bethanne and to ask about the play. I was there after all, and the trustees had commissioned me to keep an eye on the theater troupe. “Is play practice going on?”

The young Amish girl shook her head. “All the actors and crew left an hour ago. They told Mimi that they wanted to go somewhere else to eat.”

It was just as well. I was exhausted and knew my parents were waiting for me at home.

I pulled into the driveway just as the Amish carolers
began a new song. Rachel, Mattie, and Aaron stood with other members of their district on my front lawn, singing “Silent Night.” Oliver barked approval.

Mom and Dad stood in the doorway. Dad had his arm around Mom's shoulders. My mother held a large tray of cookies in her hands. I was certain the cookies were from Miller's Amish Bakery. My heart ached because I missed the two of them. Mom was right; I hadn't given them the attention they deserved since they got to Holmes County. I promised that I would spend the next couple of days while the shop was closed to make up for it.

Begrudgingly, I admitted that I owed the same to Ryan too. I wanted us to be friends. He had been a large part of my life for so long. I had gone from talking to and seeing him every day to nothing. It was a shock to the system, and I hadn't realized how much I missed him until that morning searching for Nahum's cabin. We had many good times together. The problem was I had to make him understand that friends were all that we could be.

Funny, just after I arrived in Holmes County, I would have been elated if Ryan had come to Ohio after me. Maybe a small part of me had secretly hoped that he would, but that window of opportunity had come and gone and a certain sheriff with startling blue-green eyes had stepped through the open door. It was too late for Ryan and for me to love him in that way.

The choir finished the song, and my parents thanked them. Rachel walked over to me. “I'm so glad that you got here in time to hear some of the singing. I asked
Aaron to stop at your home near the end of our caroling with the hope that you would be here. I thought you might get caught up in something on the way home.”

I smiled. “You know me well. I had to stop by the hotel to close up the quilt show. How are you?”

Rachel's brow furrowed beneath her bonnet. “I'm fine. I thought about what you told me about my father.”

I waited.

“And I want to talk to him.”

“You do?”

“Not now. After Christmas. I need to talk to him.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Will you go with me?”

“Of course.” I hugged her.

“
Gut
. I hate to keep things from my husband, but I think it's best we don't mention this to him until I meet with my father. Nothing may come of it, and I don't want Aaron to become upset over nothing.”

I bit the inside of my lip. Her relationship with her estranged father wasn't nothing. I wasn't going to argue with her, so I changed the subject. “Did you go inside and see the tree?”

Her eyes brightened. “Oh yes. It's . . .” She paused as if searching for the right word. “Something.”

“I bet.”

Rachel laughed and hugged me. “Merry Christmas, Angie. We need to go now to the next home, but you must tell me about your day. You look tired.”

“I am beat.” I yawned. “I packed a lot into one day. It will be nice to have a couple of days of holiday and to not think of murder.”

Aaron called to his wife in Pennsylvania Dutch.

Rachel smiled. “You take too much on yourself. This should not be your burden to bear.”

She was right. As my mother would say, I bring these things on myself.

I went inside the house to find a pink and white Christmas tree. It was furry. I might have been wrong, but it looked like my mother had used a pink feather boa as a garland.

Ryan sat on the couch holding a drink. “It's as if a cotton candy factory exploded in your living room.”

My mother carried a cup of tea into the room and cuffed Ryan on the back of the head with her free hand. “It does not.”

My heart constricted. My parents were so happy and comfortable when they were with Ryan. Would they ever feel that way about the sheriff? I didn't know. They'd known Ryan for nearly a decade. Mitchell they just met.

Mom beamed at me. “Angie, dear, what do you think? Your father and Ryan have been teasing me all afternoon. But I just love it; don't you? I might use it for my color scheme on my own tree next year. Wouldn't it look amazing in the foyer of the house?”

Dad balanced a plate of Rachel's cookies on his belly and held a huge glass of milk in his other hand. “I could be wrong, but I think one of those sweet Amish girls fainted dead away when she saw it.”

“Stop.” My mother cuffed him on the head this time. “And you shouldn't be eating those cookies, Kent. What would the doctor say?”

He grunted. “I'm taste-testing them for Santa. It's a public service.”

My mother sighed. “Angie, you haven't said anything about the tree yet.”

Because I was struck dumb by it.

“It's pink,” I squeaked.

Ryan barked a laugh. “Great observation.”

O
n Christmas Eve, I smiled as I turned the SUV into the Grabers' long driveway. This was what I had wanted my parents to experience when they came back to Ohio for Christmas, an old-fashioned Amish Christmas. Maybe it would remind them of the Christmases from their childhood, and maybe it would help them understand why I wanted to stay in Ohio for good.

Ryan sat in the backseat of the SUV with my mother and Oliver. Even though he had a rental car, I had stopped at the hotel to pick him up. I didn't trust he would be able to find the Grabers' farm without GPS.

Snow covered the crop fields on either side of the house and covered the roofs of the house, barn, and outbuildings like frosting on a wedding cake. I frowned. Why was wedding cake the first comparison that came to my mind?

“The farm is beautiful,” my mother murmured. “It reminds me so much of Eleanor's farm. . . .” She trailed off.

I turned in my seat to look at her. “Mom, are you okay?”

She waved away my concern. “Of course being here brings back memories of my parents, of my sister.”

Dad squeezed Mom's hand. “I'm so glad we are here.
We can make new memories with Angie and her friends. They all knew Eleanor. Don't you think your sister would like that?”

Mom sniffled. “She would.” She reached into her purse for her mirror to check her makeup. She snapped the mirror shut. “I'm ready.”

The Frenchie sniffed the air and lowered himself to the ground.

“What's wrong with him?” Dad asked. “I don't see any birds around.”

“But he knows they are there. Jonah has a flock of geese. They are in the far barn, so Oliver doesn't like being here. He was chased by them when we first moved here. The poor guy is scarred.”

“I'd be scarred too if I was chased by geese,” Dad said.

“Kent, can you help me into the house?” Mom asked as she teetered back and forth in the snow. She wore tall boots with a three-inch spike heel under a long corduroy skirt. Dad held on to her arm so that she wouldn't fall over.

“Go on,” I said to Ryan. “Jonah can help me bring all this in from the car.”

“Welcome,” Jonah said, walking toward us. “It is so nice to have you here for Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Braddock.”

“We're happy to be here,” Dad said.

Underneath his black wool coat, now free of brambles, Ryan wore a sweater and jeans. I smiled at the outfit. Ryan was more of a suit kind of guy. It was cute that he was trying to fit in. Ryan caught my smile and grinned back at me.

I turned my head away. Great.

The front door of the house opened, and the children—Rachel's three sons and Jonah's twin boys and ten-year-old daughter, Emma—poured out, followed by Mattie. All of them were bundled up to play in the snow. Emma had a book tucked under her arm. I guessed she was going to find a quiet place to read while the boys played.

Ezra and Ethan made a beeline for me. “Angie! Angie! Come play with us. We are going to have a snowball fight.”

I pulled the black stocking cap one of the boys wore down over his eyes. “That sounds like fun, but I should go inside to see if the ladies need any help with the meal.”

Ezra laughed, or maybe it was Ethan. “They will just kick you out of the kitchen.
Grossmammi
never wants any help. She only lets
Mamm
and Rachel in the kitchen with her.”

That I could believe. Anna does everything her way.

Dad grinned over his shoulder. “Go on, Angie Bear. You work too hard. It's time that you had a little fun. If I remember correctly, you had a strong arm when it came to throwing a snowball.”

Dad helped Mom toward the house. Jonah and Ryan remained. “Are you guys going in?”

“No way,” Jonah said. “I want a rematch of our snowball fight from when we were kids. You are going down, Braddock.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Jonah Graber, that is the most un-Amish thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth. What would your mother say?”

Jonah grinned and punched Ryan in the arm. “Be careful. She plays dirty.”

“I know that all too well,” Ryan said.

They'd be sorry.

When I was ten, I was an expert at making snowballs. I hadn't made one in more than twenty years, but as I gathered snow to make my arsenal, the skill came back to me.

I had the twins and two of Rachel's sons on my side. We were up against Jonah, Ryan, and the remaining boy.

I hunched down with the twins. “What's the strategy?”

Ethan—I think; I could never tell them apart—said, “You stay here and make snowballs, defend our supplies. The rest of us will go on the offensive.”

“What are they teaching Amish kids in school nowadays? How do you even know what an offensive is?”

The twins grinned at each other.

I folded my arm. “Are you making me guard the base because I'm a girl?”

“
Nee
, you are the best at making snowballs.”

I decided to take that as a compliment.

A snowball flew into our camp and hit Ezra on the head.

“Let's do this,” the twin said.

The boys piled snowballs into their arms and ran into battle.

I peeked over the embankment. Snowballs flew in a barrage back and forth between the teams. Yips and laughter were heard everywhere. Oliver hunched down beside me. He had no problem with staying back in the safety zone.

The next time I peeked over, I saw Ryan staying just ten feet away. He didn't know I was there. I let the snowball go, and it hit Ryan square in the stomach. He doubled over. I dropped the other snowballs I made and ran over to him. “I'm so sorry. That looked like it hurt. Are you okay?”

Ryan rubbed his stomach and, without warning, he tackled me and we fell into the snow, laughing. “That's a cheap shot,” I cried. “I was helping you.”

I was on my back, and Ryan's face was just inches above mine. I caught my breath. Ryan looked into my eyes, and I swallowed hard. He was going to kiss me. I needed to push him off. Why wasn't I pushing him off me?

“Having fun?” a deep voice asked, and it wasn't Jonah.

I blinked and turned my head to find Mitchell standing over us, holding a deli tray. Jessica, looking hurt, stood beside him.

I pushed Ryan off me and jumped to my feet. “Mitchell! Jessica!” I yelped. “I'm so glad that you came.”

“Are you?” Mitchell's lips pursed together. I had seen him have the same look when he faced a killer.

The Graber and Miller boys stood around us. Some of
them still had snowballs in their hands. It was as if they had stopped their game in midthrow.

Ryan stood and brushed snow off his coat. “Angie and I were just having a bit of fun with the kids. I hope that doesn't bother you.”

Mitchell clenched the tray, and the plastic crackled under the pressure. “Why would it bother me?”

Jessica took the tray from Mitchell's hand. “Why don't I take that into the kitchen?”

I took one step after her. “Jess?”

She kept walking and didn't turn around to look at me. I bit the inside of my cheek. I knew she liked Ryan, but did she like him enough to get so upset? She had to know he was headed back to Texas alone after Christmas, didn't she?

Mattie walked past Jessica and the deli tray coming the opposite way. “Anna says it's time for everyone to come inside and get ready for the meal.” She looked at me covered in snow. “Angie, you are going to catch a chill if you stay out here much longer anyway. Come brush off the snow before it melts and you are soaked through.”

I brushed at my coat, happy for the chance to concentrate on something other than the fact that Ryan and Mitchell were just inches from each other.

“That goes for you too, boys.” Mattie put a hand on one of her nephew's arms. “Inside with the lot of you. We will be eating soon. Has anyone seen Emma?”

I dropped my hands from snow removal. “I'll go tell Emma it's time to go inside,” I said. “I saw her take a
book into the barn.” Before anyone could object, I ran across the yard.

Inside the barn, I leaned against the wall and caught my breath. What had I been thinking? I had almost kissed Ryan in front of all of my family and friends, in front of Mitchell. I hadn't been thinking; that was the problem. I banged the back of my head against the barn wall.

“You are going to give yourself a headache if you keep doing that.” Emma sat a few feet away from me. She was cross-legged on a bale of hay with two wool blankets wrapped around her shoulders and a book on her lap.

Across from her, Maggie wore her burgundy horse blanket and ate out of a feed bag tethered to her stall. The barn was dim. A flickering lantern hung from a chain dangling from the ceiling.

I pushed off the wall. “What are you reading?”

Emma placed a piece of hay in her book to mark where she left off. Now, that was an Amish bookmark. “
Sherlock Holmes
. I picked it up at first because I thought it had something to do with our county, but it doesn't.”

I laughed. “Really? Which story?”

She held up a thick book. “I got this from the library. It has all of the stories. Right now, I'm reading
The
Hound of the Baskervilles
. It's very
gut
and a little scary. Maybe I will be a detective like him someday.”

“Don't let you mother hear that.”

“
Mamm
wouldn't like it,” she agreed.

“How could you be an Amish detective?”

Emma pushed her glasses up her nose with her index
finger. “I would have to leave the Amish to be a detective. That would be really hard.” She frowned.

“You have a long time before you have to make that choice.”

“I'm glad.”

I sat next to her on the hay bale. “Sherlock Holmes is one of my favorites.”

She scooted over. “Why were you banging your head against the wall?”

“Because I almost did something stupid.”

“If everyone hit their head against the wall when they
almost
did something stupid, the whole world would have a concussion.” She hopped off the hay bale and folded the blankets.

I laughed. “Maybe you are right. Then why do I still feel bad about it?”

“Maybe it is a sin of the heart? Like if you didn't actually do it, your heart did.”

I frowned. I didn't like the sound of that.

“But it is most important you stopped yourself, correct?” she asked, wise beyond her years.

“I wasn't the one who stopped me, but I stopped.”

She dropped the folded blankets on the bale of hay. “Then it doesn't matter. You can't be in trouble for something that you almost did.”

If only that were true.