by Sarah Price
ALSO BY SARAH PRICE
An Empty Cup
An Amish Buggy Ride
The Secret Sister: An Amish Christmas Tale
The Plain Fame Series
Plain Fame
Plain Change
Plain Again
Plain Return
Plain Choice
The Amish of Lancaster Series
Fields of Corn
Hills of Wheat
Pastures of Faith
Valley of Hope
The Amish of Ephrata Series
The Tomato Patch
The Quilting Bee
The Hope Chest
The Clothes Line
The Amish Classic Series
First Impressions (Realms)
The Matchmaker (Realms)
Second Chances (Realms)
Sense and Sensibility: An Amish Retelling of Jane Austen’s Classic (Realms)
For a complete listing of books, please visit the author’s website at www.sarahpriceauthor.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Price Publishing, LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Waterfall Press, Grand Haven, MI
www.brilliancepublishing.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Waterfall Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503934832
ISBN-10: 1503934837
Cover design by Eileen Carey
Contents
About the Vocabulary
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Vocabulary
The Amish speak Pennsylvania Dutch (also called Amish German or Amish Dutch). This is a verbal language with variations in spelling among communities throughout the United States. For example, in some regions, a grandfather is grossdaadi, while in other regions he is known as grossdawdi. Some dialects refer to the mother as mamm or maem, and others simply as mother or mammi.
In addition, there are words and expressions, such as mayhaps, or the use of the word then at the end of sentences, and, my favorite, for sure and certain, that are not necessarily from the Pennsylvania Dutch language/dialect but are unique to the Amish.
The use of these words comes from my own experience living among the Amish in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
Chapter One
“Careful with the garland, now!”
Amanda stood in the center of the living room, overseeing the workers decorating the house for Christmas. She tried to hide her impatience. It was taking them far too long, and she had other things to do. They had arrived three hours earlier, and while the rest of the rooms were coming along nicely, the two men in the living room appeared to be struggling. Now, as they stood on metal ladders bookending the fireplace, she could see disaster ready to unfold. The marble wall was presenting them with a problem: they couldn’t figure out how to drape the eighteen-foot garland over the mirror.
Amanda was on the verge of offering her assistance when it happened. The young man wearing clothes too large for his small frame almost dropped his side of the garland, scattering hundreds of needles onto the white floor in front of the fireplace. Then, as the ladder began to wobble, he lost his footing. Amanda caught her breath, knowing exactly what was going to happen but unable to do anything to stop it. The man held on to the garland like a monkey swinging from a vine, his dark eyes large and anxious, before stumbling from the ladder and falling to the ground.
Pine needles went everywhere as ornaments shattered into small shards and spread in every direction.
“Oh help!” Amanda muttered as she rushed forward and knelt beside him. “Are you all right?”
From the way the color drained from his face, she doubted that he was. But it was probably from embarrassment, not from physical injury.
She held his arm as she helped him back to his feet. She peered into his face. To her surprise, she realized that he was just a teenager, perhaps a few years older than her fourteen-year-old adopted stepdaughter, Isadora. And from the looks of his clothing, he was certainly not a regular employee. It appeared that his loose-fitting pants and shirt had been borrowed from a much larger man. Most likely, he was the younger brother of the other worker and had come along to see the inside of the Diaz mansion.
She didn’t need to wonder why; she knew the answer: curiosity.
Amanda wasn’t surprised. After nine years, people were still curious about her.
When she had first met Alejandro, quite by accident in New York City, she hadn’t known who he was or how closely the media—and the public—followed him. As it turned out, he was the man known as Viper, an international music sensation with a reputation for loving and leaving a trail of beautiful women in his wake. But because he always did it with style, his fans adored him for it.
Then the paparazzi discovered his unexpected relationship with Amanda Beiler. Their brief courtship was very much in the public eye, and it led to a quick engagement and tumultuous first year of marriage. She wasn’t prepared for his lifestyle, nor was he for balancing his professional success with married life. And, of course, neither of them had been prepared for the surprise that awaited them in Brazil: Isadora.
Over the years, curiosity about their married life had not dissipated, meaning that security had to be vigilant at vetting workers and checking credentials and identification before letting anyone into the gated community and onto their property. Occasionally, someone slipped in, like the young man standing before her. It wasn’t the first time someone snuck through protocol—and certainly would not be the last, she thought.
“Lo siento,” he said, apologizing with a trembling voice.
“Tranquilo,” Amanda said in response, hoping to reassure him that there was no need to be afraid. Of course, that was easy for her to say. Since he hadn’t responded to her in English, he was most likely not a native-born Miamian. His accent sounded Latin American, but she couldn’t quite place the exact country of origin, despite how often she traveled to Central and South America with Alejandro.
She heard the sharp sound of footsteps approaching from the foyer.
“Whatever is going on here?” The shrill voice of Amanda’s housekeeper echoed from the open doorway.
For a moment, Amanda thought the boy might run. A look of panic crossed his face, and his dark eyes quickly turned toward the other worker, who still stood by the other side of the fireplace. Amanda gave him a reassuring smile, pausing to gently pat his arm. Like most fans, he was harmless. Alejandro had made sure to teach her that when she first met him, though he also made sure to travel with proper security, just in case.
Taking a deep breath, Amanda turned and walked toward the foyer where Teresa stood, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, lea
ving the two workers scrambling to gather the garland and hang it properly while another quickly swept up the mess on the floor.
“Everything is fine, Teresa,” Amanda said, placing her hand under the housekeeper’s arm and guiding her in the other direction. “How are they coming along with the dining room? I want everything just perfecto for when Alejandro gets home tonight.”
They walked through the grand foyer, passing beneath the large crystal chandelier and the staircase that curved along the wall to the second floor. From the moment the real estate agent had opened the double doors and stepped back for Amanda and Alejandro to enter the house, Amanda knew that her husband had fallen in love with it.
Sophisticated in its simplicity, it had satisfied Alejandro’s need for impressing guests who met with him at their home. It was also open and airy, which reminded Amanda of the large open spaces typical of the Amish barns from her youth. In fact, there were parts of the house that were similar to her childhood home: a large family kitchen with an area for the family to gather after meals, and the master bedroom on the first floor. That, however, was where the similarities ended. Other rooms were constant reminders that she was most certainly not living in Lancaster County, such as the large formal dining room reserved for when all of Alejandro’s friends and family came for meals and the soundproof recording studio on the far side of the house.
While she had fallen for the simple and open floor plan, Alejandro loved the ornate grandeur of marble walls, massive windows, and rich woodwork. The majestic columns that adorned the entrances into several of the more formal rooms were awe-inspiring. While it was much more ostentatious than their penthouse, Amanda knew that Alejandro wanted something to show for his hard work and sacrifices over the years. So despite feeling uncomfortable with the extravagance of the house, she had supported the move, especially since the children would have more privacy and a real backyard.
As far as decorating, Amanda had insisted on not crowding the space with too much furniture, so as not to overwhelm the senses. She wanted to create an aura of simplicity. Luxurious simplicity. Alejandro let her deal with all of those decisions, and whenever he returned home from his frequent trips to Los Angeles or New York City, he always appeared interested and pleased with any changes to the house.
For the most part, every room remained a neutral color: cream. The three exceptions were the children’s rooms. Otherwise, the only time Amanda added color to the cream décor was during the holiday season. And that was another reason why she insisted on personally overseeing the hired service that put up the tree and the wreaths, garlands, lights, and bows. After all, she wanted to be a part of the festivities. She couldn’t imagine someone else doing it completely. It simply wasn’t Christmas if she couldn’t decorate her own home, filling it with personal touches and creating a warm, inviting place to celebrate with family and friends.
One of her most cherished childhood memories was of helping her mother with decorating the large kitchen gathering room. Their decorations, however, consisted of only a piece of yarn hanging between two walls. Every day during the holiday season when Anna and Amanda came home from school, they would run to the old gray mailbox to see if any Christmas cards had arrived. There was nothing the two girls enjoyed more than hanging all of the Christmas cards from that yarn.
The Amish simply hadn’t bought into the commercialism of Christmas, preferring to keep the holiday focused on what was truly important: the Christ-child, who was born to take away the sin of the world. It had taken Amanda quite a few years to really get into what the Englische called the spirit of Christmas—and she had learned that the Englische version of Christmas spirit usually meant little battery-operated lights on the windowsills and lots of greenery with bows and fragile figures or ornaments. That was when she started hiring professional decorators for the holidays.
After inspecting the dining room, Amanda and Teresa headed toward the grand salon. It was the main gathering room at the rear of the house. The back wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows. Whenever she and Alejandro entertained, they could slide back the windows opening the room completely to the outside patio that surrounded the pool. Usually, the room contained just a few pieces of furniture—several chairs, two sofas, and a coffee table—set up to present casual sitting areas where Alejandro and Amanda sometimes sat after dinner so that they could catch up with each other. The simplicity of the décor made the room feel rich and sophisticated.
Today, however, it had been transformed into a magnificent winter wonderland.
Amanda gasped, her eyes taking in the large sixteen-foot Christmas tree, decorated with thick white ribbons and an assortment of gold ornaments. Strands of lights had been hidden within its branches, and it seemed as though thousands of them were twinkling among the greenery. And all along the top of the back wall, there were beautiful boughs of evergreens festooned with ornaments and lights. The elegance of the tree and the simplicity of the room were simply breathtaking.
“Alejandro will love this,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else. But she heard Teresa make a noise in the back of her throat that indicated she was in agreement.
He had been traveling for almost ten days, having left for the first of his annual Christmas concerts the day after Thanksgiving. His first stop had been Los Angeles because the tour was starting on the West Coast this year. Even though the Jingle Ball concerts continued for another two weeks, it was fortunate that there were small breaks in his busy concert schedule, including the next few days. Alejandro would fly home from Texas tonight. His manager, Geoffrey, had arranged for a private jet to fly him back to Miami as soon as his set was finished. Amanda suspected it would be the early hours of Sunday morning by the time he walked through those double doors, and she wanted him to feel the peace and joy of the upcoming Christmas holiday.
Christmas was the one holiday that he insisted on spending at home and with family, and she couldn’t agree more. For the past few years, his mother would arrive several days early, her arms laden with bags of food as she marched directly into the kitchen and plopped everything onto the counters. Behind her would trail two of the house staff, toting her suitcases and packages while waiting for instruction on what to do next. No sooner would Alecia have greeted Amanda and the children than she would begin working in the kitchen, directing the staff to fetch her pots and pans, chop vegetables, or do any other task that she felt they were sufficiently qualified to accomplish, with one exception: the actual cooking. She never once delegated that duty to anyone else.
With Alecia in the house, there was constant energy in the kitchen. Alejandro’s mother was always a whirlwind of energy, but she went into overdrive during the month of December. Amanda never complained, though. It was one of the many things she loved about Alecia.
Alejandro’s aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends would begin arriving in the early afternoon on Christmas Eve, long after the caterers got busy roasting the pig, a tradition in Alejandro’s family. It had taken Amanda a few years to get used to the unique foods served by his family over the holidays: rice and beans, pork and chicken, fresh chicharrones, fried plantains, and other Cuban dishes. Rich in flavor and varied in spices, each dish was part of her husband’s heritage—and a far cry from what she, as a youth, had eaten on Christmas Eve dinner back on the farm in Lancaster County.
An hour after the decorators left, thankfully with no further incidents of runaway garlands or dropping pinecones, Amanda slipped outside through the sliding glass doors in her office. Isadora’s orange cat, Katie Cat, that she had adopted almost nine years ago when staying with Amanda’s family in Lancaster County, slept on a chair at the table. Amanda shooed the cat off the chair and, after brushing aside some cat hairs, sat down to relax. She needed to steal a few moments just to sit in the shade on the patio and enjoy the fresh afternoon breeze. Within an hour, she would have to meet Jeremy at his studio, her favorite stylist, who had won her heart and friendship when she began touring with Alejandro so
many years ago.
Jeremy always told her that truly glamorous women wore stunning gowns or classy dresses with perfectly matched shoes and accessories. And, of course, every outfit needed to be adorned with complementary jewelry that accentuated her beauty and declared how much her husband loved her.
Knowing that Amanda never spent money on herself, Jeremy frequently provided Alejandro with a long list of what Amanda “absolutely, positively” needed to have. Amanda knew there was no point in trying to argue with Jeremy. He wouldn’t hear it, waving her off in his typical overdramatic way. Despite their occasional pseudo bickering, Amanda had to admit that her fashion stylist (and, secretly, one of her few trusted friends) had impeccable taste. As did her husband. Every year, Alejandro would find a way to bestow upon her pieces of jewelry that took her breath away, especially when he helped her put them on and stood back to admire her, a loving look of approval in his blue eyes.
She shut her eyes and let her head fall back. There was no denying that she was dreading the evening she was about to face. Charlie, her assistant, would arrive shortly and begin to talk nonstop, directing his team to take notes, make calls, or send e-mails, all the while telling Amanda what she needed to do. Her head would no doubt be swimming with endless details and a headache would be forthcoming, and they’d soon be at Jeremy’s studio, where her stylist would make his grand entrance. Jeremy never entered a room quietly. And then the fireworks would begin. Jeremy had been with Amanda for almost eight years, and it was no secret to anyone that he was not fond of Charlie.
The feeling, apparently, was more than mutual.
When working with them, Amanda often felt as though she were mothering two children instead of working with two adults. Quite often, she compared them to oil and water: necessary for the recipe but difficult to mix together.
“Ma’am?”
At the interruption, Amanda opened her eyes and looked toward the house. A timid woman in a maid’s outfit approached her, holding a small white envelope in her hand.
