“How was Eli to know Mr. Snow would leave town in the middle of the night, taking everyone’s money and leaving his own wife behind?” Without waiting for a response, Esther continued as she paced around the room, the strings of her head cap dangling in a rare show of independence. “Yet, to hear Eli’s brother, Benjamin, and even my own grandfather talk, you’d think Eli was the criminal. And he did nothing more than speak his mind.”
“I’m sure it will blow over soon. It has to.” But even as she put words to the hope she knew Esther needed, Claire knew it wasn’t the case. The Amish took their vows very seriously. To break one carried consequences—lasting consequences to those who refused to repent.
A jingle of bells from the main part of the store propelled Claire from her place against the wall. “I’ll get—”
“Esther? Are you here?”
Claire glanced at her employee in time to see the girl freeze, mid-pace. “Yes. Yes, I am here, Mamm. Just one minute. I will be right there.”
A charge of excitement made Claire reach out, momentarily thwarting Esther’s move toward the main room. “That’s your mother?”
Esther nodded.
“I didn’t know you’d convinced her to come.”
“I did not know either,” Esther whispered.
It was hard not to laugh at the mixture of bewilderment and fear on the young woman’s face—bewilderment and fear Claire understood yet was equally anxious to ease. “It’ll be okay, Esther. You wait and see.”
“You do not know Mamm.”
“That’s about to change.”
Beckoning for Esther to follow, Claire made her way out of the stockroom and into the main shop, the shelves lining the walls showcasing a smattering of Amish crafts, many of which had been made by Esther. As she rounded the corner, Claire couldn’t help but do a double take. For there, in the middle of the room, stood a virtual carbon copy of the young woman at her heels. The hair was the same soft brown shade, the hazel eyes a nearly perfect match, and their height was no more than a centimeter off from one another.
And, like her daughter, Martha King was dressed in typical Amish dress, though, as an older woman, her apron was black and her dress color a bit darker. But the burgundy hue the mother had chosen did little to mute the pretty face that peered back at Claire.
“Mrs. King, I’m Claire Weatherly. I’m honored to finally meet you.” She stuck out her hand, only to pull it back and opt for a smile instead. “Esther has told me so much about you.”
Martha’s gaze moved to a red-faced Esther. “She has?”
Claire rushed to explain, for fear the woman would think her daughter had spoken in a boastful manner. “She tells me you taught her how to quilt and how to make many of the items my customers love so much.” She pointed toward the shelf that only yesterday had been filled with candles of varying sizes and shapes. “Esther’s creations are some of our most popular items.”
“We are grateful for the money you send home with Esther each week. It has made up for some of what Mr. Snow took when . . .” Martha’s words trailed off as she seemed to realize what she was saying. Such matters were not for the women to pay any worry.
“It’s money Esther has rightfully earned.” She flashed a smile in Esther’s direction, hoping some of the tension that seemed to hover around the young woman’s shoulders would dissipate. “In fact, your daughter is quite a businesswoman, if I must say so myself. She comes in with a price in mind and holds firm.”
Martha eyed Esther closely but said nothing. Flushed, Esther toed the wood-planked floor.
“I was hoping that maybe you might consider showcasing some of your own crafts here at Heavenly Treasures as well.”
A peaceful silence blanketed the room as Martha appeared to consider Claire’s request, her eventual response catching both Esther and Claire off guard. “My daughter told me you were interested in speaking to me about this, but I put it off, certain that you would lose interest . . . in this shop and the Amish way. But I have listened to Esther these past few weeks, listened to the things you have told her, and I have changed my mind.”
Esther’s mouth gaped. “You mean you’re going to bring your painted milk cans and wooden spoons here, too, Mamm?”
“If Miss Weatherly will allow, then yes.”
“Yes?” Claire echoed.
“Yes. You can pick up some items on Thursday.”
It took every ounce of strength Claire could muster not to jump up and down, squealing. Suddenly, the shop she’d opened with little more than hope was showing the kind of potential she’d only dared to imagine.
This time, when she reached outward, she didn’t stop, her hand closing over the top of Martha’s in a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Mrs. King. Thank you so much.”
“Esther, it is time to go.”
With barely more than a nod at Claire, Esther’s mother marched toward the front door, stopping midway with a glance over her shoulder. “Miss Weatherly? If we are to work together, you shall call me Martha.”
And just like that, Claire felt the familiar sting in her eyes. For five long years, she’d been Mrs. Peter Ross—the Wall Street wife who existed simply to attend company dinners and sit home alone the rest of the time. But now, thanks to a healthy dose of courage and her aunt Diane’s offer of solace à la Heavenly, Pennsylvania, Claire was making a life of her own. With people who wanted to be friends with her because of who she was, not who she was married to.
Swallowing over the lump that threatened to render her speechless, she eked out the only reply she could. “And I’m Claire.”
“I will have these things ready for you on Thursday.” Taking hold of her daughter’s arm, Martha continued on her path to the door, her black-stocking-clad legs freezing in motion mere inches from their destination.
“Mamm?” Esther nibbled at her lower lip. “Mamm, what’s wrong?”
Martha stepped to the left and leaned toward the large plate-glass window that overlooked Lighted Way—the road that linked Heavenly’s Amish and English communities. Here the two worlds met, as cars shared the roadway with buggies, and sidewalks were traveled by the hatted and unhatted. Slowly, Martha’s finger rose into the air, pressing against the window. “Who is that?”
Claire moved in next to Martha, her gaze following the path indicated. “Oh. I believe that’s the police department’s new detective. I’ve not met him yet, but my aunt says he’s from New York City, like me.” Claire took a moment to study the tall man with the sandy blond hair and broad shoulders she’d seen in the newspaper over breakfast just that morning. More handsome in person, he moved with a sense of quiet authority befitting his new title. “Had I moved to a place like Washington, D.C., or Chicago, I’d have thought nothing of meeting others from New York. Yet here in Heavenly, it always takes me by surprise.”
“Do you know his name?” Martha asked.
She searched her memory for the name she’d seen captioned under his photo, her aunt’s running commentary on the latest happenings in Heavenly helping to fill in at least part of the answer her mind seemed unable to recall on its own. “Jakob. Jakob something or—”
“Fisher,” Martha finished. “Jakob Fisher.”
Esther gasped. “Fisher? Mamm . . . Wasn’t that your last name when you were—”
Grabbing hold of her daughter’s arm once again, Martha’s gaze dropped to the floor, a flash of pain skittering across her face before disappearing behind a façade that could only be described as stoic. “Esther, we must go. Now.”
About the Author
Laura Bradford is the author of the new Amish Mysteries (Berkley Prime Crime/Penguin). The debut title, Hearse and Buggy, is available now.
In addition to this new series, Laura is also the bestselling author of the Southern Sewing Circle Mystery Series (under her pen name, Elizabeth Lynn Casey), and an award-winning romance author for Harlequin American. Her third romance, Miracle Baby, was named RT Magazine’s Reviewer’s Choice Award Winner for Best
Harlequin American of 2010. Kayla’s Daddy—her first romance—was nominated for the same award and has gone on to be translated in both Spain and Germany. Her next romance, Storybook Dad, will be published in October 2012.
A graduate of Xavier University in Cincinnati, Ohio, Laura lives in New York with her family.
For more information, please contact [email protected].
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