The Innkeeper's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  I’ve changed, remember? I’m not that same person. I am responsible. She looked at Levi and said, “Piece of cake.”

  * * *

  Cevilla spent most of the day fretting, and she was unhappy about that. Cevilla Schlabach didn’t fret. But she hadn’t seen Richard all day. She’d half expected him to come back and apologize for leaving so suddenly without telling her where he was going. What if something happened to him? He wasn’t a spring chicken. She’d even peeked outside her bedroom window, which had a view to his driveway. His car had been there all day. What was he doing cooped up in that house? Of course, she could go over there and find out, but she didn’t. She wasn’t the one who left. Even if it was mei fault he did.

  She’d also been arguing with herself about going to see Freemont. This morning the idea of talking to the bishop about Richard had seemed like a good one. Now she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t want to involve someone else in her problems, especially Freemont. He had enough responsibility with his bishop duties—not to mention rebuilding his farm, which had burned down last year. It was winter, but there was still much to be done, and she didn’t want to infringe on that.

  But he was also a married man, and he might have some insight into Richard’s reluctance to talk about his daughter as well as his future. She needed a male perspective, and Noah was too young. Freemont wasn’t exactly elderly, but he was in his early fifties, and that made him experienced enough for her.

  Suppertime came and went, without Richard. It was too dark outside to spy on his driveway again. “That’s it,” she said, getting up from her chair. She would go talk to Freemont tomorrow. She’d always been a woman of action—and waiting around for Richard to realize how foolish he was being irritated her.

  She heard a knock on the door, and her heart leapt. He’d come over after all. She shuffled to the door, her cane thumping on the wood floor. “You’ve finally come to your senses,” she said as she opened the door, a blast of frigid air nearly knocking her off her feet. “Delilah?”

  “Goodness, it’s freezing.” Without waiting to be invited in, Delilah bustled past Cevilla. “Not fit for man or beast out there.”

  Cevilla shut the door. “What are you doing here?”

  Delilah spun around, already taking off her bonnet. “I’ve made another mistake,” she said, her eyes lighting up behind her glasses, which were a little foggy around the edges of the lenses.

  “You don’t look too upset about it.” Cevilla hobbled to her rocking chair and sat down.

  “I’m positive now that Levi and Selah do like each other.” She dashed to sit down on the couch. “One hundred percent positive.”

  “That’s great.” She could barely muster any enthusiasm, but not because she didn’t care about Selah and Levi. She rubbed her throbbing temples. “Now really isn’t a gut time—”

  “You have to help me get them together. Levi’s already put down his foot, so whatever we come up with has to be clever.”

  “Delilah, what about letting God handle this, like you agreed to?”

  “God needs a nudge every once in a while.” She peered over her glasses.

  Cevilla glanced at the front door again, wishing Richard would walk in. Surely one argument couldn’t end an entire relationship—could it?

  “You’re not listening to me, Cevilla.” Delilah huffed. “You’re being a little rude.”

  “Rude?” Cevilla snapped. “You come over here—uninvited, by the way—and start making demands for me to help you with Levi and Selah, who just yesterday you were saying didn’t like each other, and I’m rude?” She gripped the handle of her cane. “You aren’t the only one with problems, Delilah.”

  “Oh.” Delilah’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I see.”

  Cevilla sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.” When Delilah rose from her seat, she said, “You don’t have to leave. We can figure out something for Levi and Selah.”

  “Peppermint,” Delilah said.

  “What?”

  “Peppermint tea. That’s what you like, ya?”

  She nodded. “Ya.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Cevilla sighed as Delilah dashed off to the kitchen. She’d been here enough times to know where everything was to make tea. She had to admit her little outburst had helped her feel better. She wasn’t angry with Delilah, but she had pent up her emotions all day, and it was exhausting. She was too old for all these topsy-turvy emotions.

  Delilah came back with one cup of tea and handed it to Cevilla. “Now,” she said, settling herself on the couch, “tell me what’s wrong.”

  Cevilla took a sip of the tea and then set the cup on the side table beside her chair. “I don’t know what to do about Richard.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  She heaved another sigh. “He hasn’t asked me to marry him yet.”

  “Ah.”

  “I’m at mei wits’ end.” She turned and looked toward the window, growing silent, which she almost never was except during church.

  “Are you expecting him to propose?” Delilah asked.

  “Ya. I suppose. Oh, I don’t know what I’m expecting. I just know I’m tired of waiting for him to make a decision. Time’s short, you know.”

  “I certainly do.” She glanced down at her lap. “It seems to pass faster with each day, doesn’t it?” She looked at Cevilla. “Maybe that’s why you and I are both in a hurry. You to get married, me to marry off mei grosskinner. We know how fleeting life is.”

  “Sometimes I just want to lasso Richard, take him to Freemont, and tell him to baptize him.”

  “I wouldn’t put that past you. I wouldn’t put it past me if I were in yer situation.” She laughed. “I know how hard it is for you to be patient, Cevilla. But the reality is you can’t control Richard’s decision about joining the church. That’s between God and him.”

  “I’m not used to feeling helpless,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically weak and soft. “I’ve been giving mei need to control over to God, but the more this drags on, the harder it is to do that.” She shook her head. “How many times have I given others that same advice? God is in control. I know that here.” She put her hand over her heart. “It’s mei head that’s not getting the memo.”

  “Maybe yer heart too.”

  She fidgeted with the cuff of her sleeve. “I found love after seventy years. And I can’t do anything about it.”

  “But isn’t that the definition of faith?” Delilah said. “Giving everything over to the Lord, even during the hardest times? The uncertain times? When there’s nix you can do, all you have is faith.”

  “You’re right.” Delilah wasn’t telling her anything new. Yet it was so hard to put into practice right now. “Let’s forget about Richard and talk about Levi and Selah.”

  Delilah shook her head. “I’ve changed mei mind.”

  “Again?”

  “For sure this time. I need to practice what I just preached. I can’t, and shouldn’t, do anything about those two. If they’re meant to be together, God will put them together.”

  “Without our interference?”

  She smiled. “Ya. As much as it pains me to say it, without our interference.” She rose from the couch. “I’m sorry I barged in on you again.”

  “No apologies needed.” It took a moment, but Cevilla got to her feet. “You can come over anytime, Delilah. You just saw me in a sour mood, that’s all.” After she walked Delilah to the door, she said, “Danki. You really helped me.”

  Delilah took her hand and squeezed it. “That’s what friends are for.”

  Chapter 8

  On Friday afternoon, Jackson pulled his car into the gravel driveway in front of the Stoll Inn. His father might drive a brand-new BMW, but Jackson was content with his used sedan. He didn’t have any car payments, the insurance was cheaper, and it wasn’t like his father had ever offered to buy him a new one. If he did, Jackson would refuse. When it came to Dad, strings were alw
ays attached. He looked at the inn in front of him. Case in point.

  To the left was a small, empty gravel lot for parking. He had his pick of spots, so he chose one before turning off the engine. But he didn’t get out. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this. He’d thought about backing out, but better him doing the dirty work than his father. His dad was out to destroy. Jackson would give him only enough information to shut him up.

  Resigned, he grabbed his duffel bag off the passenger seat and then got out of the car and faced the inn. The air was freezing, much colder than it had been yesterday. A light dusting of snow covered the ground, the surrounding trees, and the roof, creating an idyllic scene. He clicked a button on his key fob and the car beeped, locking the doors. That probably wasn’t necessary out in the middle of nowhere, but it was a habit.

  When he entered the inn, he noticed a welcoming scent of cinnamon spice and something baking. Banana bread, maybe. Or some kind of cake. Hard to tell, but it smelled good. He surveyed the lobby, which was half the size of the lobby in his father’s hotel yet didn’t feel confining. Cozy was a better term, which also applied to the fire in the dark-blue woodstove. Split logs were stacked in a leather and iron holder on the hearth, and a picture of nine painted quilt blocks in red, white, and blue had been hung above the stone firebox. Christmas decorations abounded, but they weren’t overdone or overly complicated. They were plain, especially compared to the excessive sparkly and tacky decorations Ashley had insisted his father use in the hotel lobby. The lobby also held several small tables with chairs, he assumed for the breakfast they served.

  He turned and rang the small silver bell on the counter. A carousel with postcards sat next to it, and an organizer with information brochures was attached to the wall near the door. He recognized the brochures advertising attractions, restaurants, and craft shops in the greater Holmes County and Akron area. They had many of the same ones at the hotel.

  A guy about his age appeared from a small room behind the counter. He had silver metal-rimmed glasses and a blond bowl-cut hairstyle, and he wore a blue pullover sweater. An Amish woman who looked similar in age followed and then stood slightly behind him. She wore a light-purple dress and the white bonnet-looking hat Jackson had noticed all Amish women wore. They both looked like something out of the 1800s.

  The man held out his hand to Jackson, his expression friendly and bright. “Levi Stoll. You must be Mr. Talbot.”

  He shook Levi’s hand, a little surprised he was recognized right away. “I am. But call me Jackson. I have a reservation for the weekend.”

  “Got you right here.” Levi tapped an open guest book with his index finger. Not a computer in sight, although Jackson did see a solar-operated calculator.

  Levi turned to the woman behind him and motioned her forward. “This is Selah. She’s our hostess.”

  “In training.” She gave Levi a brief glance and then smiled at Jackson and handed him two pieces of paper. “Could you fill out these forms, please?”

  He took the papers and nodded. He didn’t really have to look at them, knowing they were probably similar to the check-in forms they had at the hotel.

  “We’re glad you’re here,” Levi continued, “although we thought you might cancel since they’re calling for a lot of snow this weekend.”

  “I had no idea.” Maybe he should have checked the weather forecast before he left Barton.

  “Five inches, at least. Good sledding weather, if you like that sort of thing. We have a few sleds available.”

  Jackson hadn’t been sledding since he was a kid. He looked at Levi, trying to judge if the guy was serious. Both he and Selah seemed to be. “Um, we’ll see.” Jackson filled out the forms and then signed them before handing them back to Selah.

  “Will you be paying with a credit card?” Levi asked.

  He glanced at their ancient, manual, sliding credit card machine. “Cash.” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket. At least his father had paid for this charade. He couldn’t wait to stop living off Dad’s dime.

  After Jackson took care of the bill, Levi turned to Selah and handed her a ring of keys. “Show Mr. Talbot his room, please—room three, the one with the nicest view.”

  She paused, seeming a bit uncertain. Then she nodded. “Of course. Follow me, please.”

  He followed her up the staircase to the first room on the right. She opened the door and stepped aside for him to enter. “Um, here’s the room.”

  Jackson walked inside and looked around. He could tell the gas heater on the wall was brand-new, but it was designed to look old-fashioned. A queen-sized bed covered with a blue-and-white quilt that matched the wall paint was in the center of the room, pushed up against the wall. From the lamp light already turned on, he assumed they had electricity. He turned to Selah. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”

  Her brow lifted, and then she shook her head. “No. No TV, either. Just electricity. There’s plenty of reading material, though.” She pointed to a small bookcase lined with books. “We also have some games, puzzles, and magazines in the lobby near the breakfast tables.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, speaking of breakfast, we serve hot food from 6:30 to 10:00 Monday through Friday. On Sundays we have coffee, tea, and pastries.”

  He nodded. “Sounds good.”

  “It is. Delilah’s an excellent cook. I should show you the bathroom.” She rushed to the door and opened it. “You should have everything you need in here,” she said, her smile a little off-kilter. “If you need anything else, let us know.”

  “I will.” When she started to leave, he said, “Can I have a key?”

  “Oh. Right. The key.” She took one off the key ring and handed it to him. “Sorry. Like I said, I’m in training.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, taking the key. He almost told her about Lois, who even after so many years in the hotel business had forgotten to give guests their keys, but he caught himself before blowing his cover. He’d make a terrible spy.

  She opened the door, then started to close it, then opened it again and poked her head inside the room. “Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thanks.” After she left, this time for good, he set his duffel on the luggage rack on the other side of the room. He checked out the bathroom, and as Selah had said, everything he needed was there, from fluffy white towels to travel-sized toiletries. He went back to the bedroom area and looked around. Amazingly he was already feeling less stressed, probably because there wasn’t construction buzzing around him or his father making him miserable.

  Jackson pulled out his laptop and sat down on the comfortable light-green tufted chair in the corner of the room next to the bookcase. He could think of a million things he’d rather do this weekend than spend it here. Not that he had anything against the Amish. And from what little he knew about their lifestyle, he thought they couldn’t be that much different from him. Sure, he was all about computers and tinkering with cars, and he felt naked without his cell phone. They didn’t use computers or drive cars and . . . Well, he didn’t know what they used for phones, if they used phones at all. At least he’d brought his computer and an extra battery with him, and he’d use his cell as a hotspot since they didn’t have Wi-Fi.

  Despite all that, he had a favorable first impression of the place, which would infuriate his father. He grinned. The weekend might not be so bad after all.

  * * *

  Selah cringed as she paused at the top of the stairs. Could she have been any more awkward? Soon after Christian had dropped her off this morning, refusing to let her walk in the frigid cold and telling her he would pick her up after work, Levi explained that she would assist him when their guest arrived. She had spent last evening memorizing the list Delilah gave her, but she hadn’t been prepared to show Mr. Talbot—Jackson—his room by herself. Everything she’d memorized had flown out of her head.

  Then there was the fact that he was English. His sandy-blond hair was longer than most English young men she’d met wore theirs, but at least it wasn’t strin
gy or messy. He wore a red-and-black-checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a white, long-sleeved T-shirt underneath, and faded jeans and hiking boots. She didn’t have the best track record with English men. Specifically one English man. Fortunately Jackson seemed like a nice guy. Not all English men were like—

  She sucked in a breath and pushed Oliver out of her mind. She’d finally come to the point when she thought about him less and less, but Jackson had tripped her memories. That had sometimes led to problems with her emotions, something she couldn’t afford to deal with right now. Gathering herself, she went downstairs. Levi was still standing behind the counter, looking at a hospitality magazine. He’d seemed even more relaxed than usual since the inspection the previous afternoon had been a complete success.

  He glanced up at her. “How did it geh?”

  Should she tell him she messed up? Then again, she didn’t want him to worry that she had made a bad impression. “Fine,” she said, her voice sounding tight. “Just fine.”

  “Did you remember everything?”

  She stopped in front of the counter. “Most of it,” she squeaked out.

  “Gut enough for me.” He closed the magazine. “Don’t be so tense, Selah. We’re all going to make mistakes because we’re all learning. If we forget something or say the wrong thing . . .” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the important thing is to do the best we can. Nee one is perfect.”

  His words calmed her a little. “You’re right.”

  “I’ve got another job for you.” He went into the office and then came out with a box of brochures. “Daed ordered these last week, and they need to be folded. He thought it would be a gut idea to distribute them around the businesses in Barton—as long as we get permission from them.”

  “That’s a job I can do.” She smiled at him, and of course he smiled back. Something about Levi Stoll’s smile was irresistible. He could charm anyone—well, except for Marge the taxi driver, and Selah doubted that woman had smiled more than once in the past year. She’d seen how easily he talked to Jackson and welcomed him. Levi might think he had a lot to learn, but when it came to working with guests, he was a natural.