Trina got ready for bed by the light of the powerful flashlight and shook her head at her bad fortune. Going across the hall to the small bathroom, she took the flashlight with her to brush her teeth and comb through her hair.
She remembered just then to contact her sister, but that, too, would have to wait. Gail would also want to hear from her by phone tomorrow, eager to know where she ended up. The dear woman had taken some pleasure in Trina’s adventuresome spirit. “A mystery trip sounds splendid!” she’d said, patting her hand after their temporary good-bye, Trina assuring her that she would not be forgotten.
In bed, she ran her foot across the cool sheets, feeling the stiff texture—not smooth and silky like at home. The quilts weighed her down, yet she was too chilly to sleep, so she got up and shone the flashlight into her suitcase and found her white hoodie and a pair of clean socks to put on.
Where have you brought me, Lord? she prayed, her teeth chattering as she headed back to the bed.
Then she remembered what the driver had said before he left: “There must be some reason you’re here.”
Maybe, maybe not, Trina thought.
Chapter
19
The next morning Trina woke with a jolt. Someone’s chicken was carrying on. Or was she merely dreaming?
Stretching, she looked around the stark room, marginally furnished with a small dresser and scant mirror over it, plus a single chair. She remembered where she was and groaned. Oh yeah . . . the mystery vacation without the white sand and palm trees. She laughed at the absurdity of ending up here. She never, ever would have paid money to come to a backwoodsy place like this!
Trina pushed away the blankets and realized the room was much more pleasant in temperature than it had been last night. Nevertheless, she recalled the online mystery trip questionnaire and wondered how the travel company could have messed up like this. For the life of her, she couldn’t fathom which of the answers she’d given had pointed to an Amish farmstead in the middle of barren cornfields and meadows.
The clip-clop-clip of a horse’s hooves drew her attention, and she scooted to the edge of the warm nest of a bed and stepped onto the rag rug beneath her stockinged feet. Moving to the frosted window, she rubbed a circle with her fist, then peeked through at a landscape so white with snow she could scarcely make out the shapes of things. “Oh,” she groaned. Not snowed in!
“Please, Lord, get me out of here,” she whispered before heading over to the shared bathroom to take a shower.
———
Mandy had something of an undeclared competition going with the rooster, and though she would have liked to doze a few minutes longer, she had gotten out of bed before the annoying crowing began that morning. She’d gotten the coal stove going again last night, so this side of the house was warmer this morning, and there was no reason for the unexpected guest—Trina Sutton—to complain about that. Then Mandy built a roaring fire in the hearth, on this, the coldest day since her return.
Having had five hours of sleep—more than most nights lately—she felt somewhat renewed and resumed her mundane yet hectic ritual, wondering how any of the guests would manage to get out of the lane and on their way. She also wondered if Jerome or Karl might come to shovel them out, not wanting to ask any of the male guests to assist. Mandy estimated a good foot or more had piled up against the stable.
There’ll be no buggy rides today, she thought with relief. And when she looked out the kitchen window later, she could see heavy, fast-falling flakes.
Miss Sutton might just be stuck here, Mandy thought grimly.
———
Mandy ventured out of her comfort zone and decided to make Mamma’s baked egg dish, the same one Sadie had made on Mandy’s first morning as the innkeeper. She felt sure that she had practiced enough to attempt it for the guests, so she placed the egg casserole in the oven and almost prayed that all would go well.
While pouring apple juice into all the small glasses, she remembered her father coming through the back door on such a cold and snowy day years ago. He’d picked her up in his strong arms and carried her to the window to show her the long, pointy icicles hanging off the porch roof. The lovely memory made the ache of his and Mamma’s absence from her childhood home more tolerable today.
Going to the sink, Mandy looked out that same window, and there, near the stable, stood Josiah Lantz with his big snow blower. Karl was there, too, both of them bundled up in scarves and knit hats, talking, their breath making thin white columns in the air. After a few minutes, they started up the noisy snow removers and set to work.
Mandy slipped away from the window, curious if the two men had become friends. Then again, Betsy had mentioned that Karl was related to some of the Lantzes here locally. Could it be Josiah was a cousin?
———
When Gavin O’Connor poked his head into the kitchen to say good morning, Mandy went right over to him, wanting to make up for her halfhearted greeting yesterday. “I hope ya slept all right,” she said, offering a smile.
Gavin waved it away. “Oh, that’s never a problem here—it feels like a second home to me.”
This surprised her, coming from an Englischer, although perhaps it shouldn’t have, considering how many years he’d been staying at Butterfly Meadows.
“I especially enjoy how quiet it is around here at night,” Gavin added.
But surely not the noisy rooster in the early morning hours, she thought, motioning around the corner. “The coffee’s gut and hot,” she said, going into the breakfast room with him to check on the table. She added an eighth place setting for Trina, just in case she showed up for breakfast.
Gavin glanced out the windows, where the sun was trying to peek out of heavy clouds. “It’s the perfect sort of day,” he commented.
“Oh?”
“A wintry day like this works best for writing—seems to encourage the muse in me. And I need all the creativity I can muster considering the article I’m writing.” He chuckled, and just then, Trina appeared in gray yoga pants and an oversized pink sweater, heading straight for the coffeepot, her eyes bleary.
“Guder Mariye, Trina,” said Mandy, hoping she might be more pleasant, at least around Gavin, who’d spied her and was walking over to the sideboard.
“English?” Trina shot back.
Gavin spoke up. “That’s good morning in Amish . . . well, Deitsch.” He introduced himself and smiled warmly. “You must be new here. I hope you enjoy this place as much as I do.”
Trina glanced Mandy’s way and grimaced in an approximation of a smile. “Nice to meet you, Gavin. I’m Trina Sutton from . . . well, civilization,” she said with a straight face.
Mandy cringed and held her breath.
“Sounds like you’ve found the ideal place to get away,” Gavin said, smiling over at Mandy now. “The peace here gives you a chance to focus on what’s most important. Get grounded in nature, if you will. Or whatever you enjoy doing.”
Trina merely went to stand with her back to the fireplace, her hands encircling the coffee mug. “I’m always chilly first thing in the morning,” she said. “Especially when snowbound.”
Gavin looked puzzled. “You can adjust the thermostat if your room’s too cold.”
“Some people can, true,” Trina said, raising an eyebrow at Mandy.
“Well, it’s a long story—and entirely my fault,” Mandy said, giving Trina the opportunity to fill Gavin in on the unfortunate trip—and double-booking—that had landed her in Arie’s room. “Excuse me while I see about breakfast,” Mandy said and slipped out to the kitchen.
———
Though Mandy wished it were otherwise, there were no enthusiastic remarks about the egg dish, except that Gavin and another man did have seconds of the angel biscuits Mandy had made late last night and refrigerated, then baked this morning. No rising required.
Thankfully, there were no outright complaints today, either, though Mandy honestly wondered if she would ever reach Mamma’s lev
el of proficiency in the kitchen.
After a few of the guests had gone upstairs, others lingered in the nearby sitting room to plan their day. Mandy noticed that Karl and Josiah were nearly finished clearing the walkways and the lane out to Old Leacock Road. Grateful for the help, she was relieved that her next batch of guests could easily get their cars in and parked later that afternoon, and those scheduled to leave after breakfast would have no trouble—assuming the main roads were plowed. Two of the couples were staying for another night, and thus far, there had been no cancelations, so even if Trina did decide to stay around, she was stuck in Arie Mae’s room.
Going in to clear the breakfast table, she found Gavin and Trina sitting there talking quietly. But then Trina frowned as Gavin removed a small tablet from his shirt pocket and began to write. He glanced out the windows as if attempting to ignore her.
Meanwhile, Trina turned to ask if Mandy needed some help, which took Mandy off guard, as she’d never had a guest offer, least of all someone as prickly as Trina.
Mandy almost said, “I thought you were leaving,” but then scolded herself for even considering mimicking the young woman’s rudeness. “If you’d like to help out, sure,” she surprised herself by saying. “That’s kind of you, but I should be doin’ more for you, considering your plight.”
Trina shook her head. “It won’t take long to get things straightened out with my travel company and find out where they really planned for me to be.”
“You should stay around,” Gavin spoke up. “Give it more time here.”
“I’d really like to enjoy my vacation,” she retorted. Then, grinning at him, she added, “And, to be clear, in my opinion, free verse is not poetry. It is merely prose.”
“Merely . . . is that right?” Gavin said, eyebrow raised before he returned his attention to his little notebook.
Trina turned away, shaking her head as if she’d just dealt with a difficult child.
In the kitchen, as Trina set down the stack of plates near the sink, she said quietly, “I’m not sure how to take him.”
“Who?” Mandy said, blinking her eyes.
Trina huffed. “That guy in there from Baltimore.”
“What about him?”
Trina huffed a bit more. “He’s way too serious . . . thinks the free verse he’s writing is poetry, but anyone knows the difference between what rhymes and has a meter . . . and, well, prose.”
Mandy would not stand for this tone, nor this ridiculous hairsplitting over poetry. “Gavin O’Connor was one of my mother’s favorite guests. And she was a very gut judge of character,” Mandy said, attempting to set Trina straight. “Not to mention fond of his beautiful poetry.”
“Was? You said she was a good judge of character.” Trina’s eyes softened as she stared at Mandy. “Did something happen to your mom?”
Mandy paused for a moment, reluctant to say much about her family to this woman, of all people. “She died suddenly . . . quite recently, in fact.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Trina took a step backward. “So is that why you do all this? In memory of her?”
Mandy wanted to shoo her out of the kitchen with a tea towel. “Nee, that’s not the reason,” Mandy said, motioning her out of the room with her hands. “Maybe you’d be happier if you were just on your way.”
“Well, first where can I plug in my phone charger?” Trina asked, ignoring her comment. “I can’t go anywhere without a ride. I need to straighten out this mess first.”
“Ach, I’ll show ya.”
———
While Trina waited for her phone to charge, she returned to the breakfast room, where Gavin still sat writing in his notepad near the windows. Taking a seat herself, she stared at the fireplace, surprised that any guy would want to spend his annual vacation at an Amish inn. What sort of person does that?
She absorbed the warmth from the fire and considered where her life might have been at this moment. If Shawn hadn’t died, she would be married to him, traveling with him to some warm and romantic getaway, maybe even expecting their first child. I would have been an amazing wife . . . and mom! she thought, convinced of it. Above all, I would have been needed. . . .
Thinking of Gail Anderson just then, Trina reminded herself to call the woman as soon as things with the incompetent travel company were straightened out. She knew one thing for sure: She had better get rerouted to another location. And soon!
“Is that steam coming out your ears?” Gavin said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Very funny.” She glanced at his little notepad, smiled, and left the room to pack her suitcase.
Chapter
20
Mandy dry mopped the vacant sitting area, then moved around the corner to the breakfast room, where she noticed Gavin O’Connor chuckling to himself as he rose and made his way toward the stairs. At least someone’s in fine humor today, she thought, working quickly.
There were groceries to purchase and a long list of things to do. Coupled with all of that, she was on edge not knowing when Trina Sutton was going to be leaving the house. Truth be known, the young woman had thoroughly frazzled her nerves. So direct!
The door chimes rang, and Mandy found the postman there with the mail, as well as an envelope too large for the mailbox. “It’s real nippy out here, Miss Dienner. Stay warm.”
“Denki,” she said, quickly closing the door and carrying the mail into the kitchen, where she dropped it on the table and returned to her mopping.
Only after she’d hung the second batch of washing in the basement did she take a breather and sit to investigate the mail. One envelope had come from her mother’s cousins in Dover, Delaware—to Mandy’s surprise, they hadn’t heard about Mamma’s passing. The other piece of mail was from the Bradleys in Scott City.
But the large envelope had Mystery Trips Travel Company as its return address, so she started with that. Inside, Mandy found the reservation confirmation along with a list of planned events and tickets with accompanying brochures. Looks like fun. There was also a check on behalf of Trina Sutton of Rochester, Minnesota, paying in full for two weeks at the Butterfly Meadows Amish Bed-and-Breakfast. Everything Trina needs for her trip. . . . She searched for a phone number and jotted it down.
Mandy sighed, contemplating the unpleasant future. What if Trina decides to stay? Ultimately, this meant that the young woman needed accommodations for thirteen more nights—accommodations the inn simply didn’t have. Arie’s sparsely furnished room was hardly worth the same price as a full-price guest room. If it came to it, Mandy supposed she should offer Trina a discount for staying there and not in a bona fide guest room. Then again, Mandy had no idea what to expect from the testy young woman.
Later, when she saw Trina heading into the kitchen, Mandy showed her the package of information from Mystery Trips Travel. “Looks like this is, in fact, where they chose for you to be,” she said as politely as she could manage.
Trina puffed out her cheeks like a chipmunk and blew the air out hard. “Please tell me you’re joking,” she said, but when Mandy didn’t respond, she added, “I’d better not say what I’m thinking.”
Wise, jah, Mandy thought, pressing her lips together. For both of us.
Trina flipped through the planned excursions and tickets, giving them only a cursory glance before tossing them on the counter. “So what do your usual guests do when they stay here?”
“Well, it looks like you’ve already paid for some real nice events,” Mandy said, showing her the tickets for the Sight and Sound Millennium Theatre and American Music Theatre, as well as the site brochures. “I’ll be glad to give you additional recommendations, if that’d suit ya more.”
“Nothing here suits me.” Trina sighed and went over to the stairs. “And I sure won’t be sitting around here writing poetry, or whatever you want to call it all day, either.” She said this quite loudly, which struck Mandy as odd.
“What do you usually like to do on vacation?” Mandy asked, thinking that mig
ht be a good starting point.
“Walk along the beach, go swimming in a lagoon . . . eat at outdoor cafés while roving musicians serenade me and the other tourists. You get the picture.”
Befuddled, Mandy led her to the brochure rack. “Well, swimming obviously isn’t an option this time of year, but there’s somethin’ for everyone in Lancaster County. The Mennonite Information Center would be a gut place to start.” She pointed out several brochures for tourist attractions that other guests had enjoyed. “I’ll let you decide.”
Trina shivered. “And I’m stuck in that bedroom again tonight . . . that is, if I decide to stay.”
“Jah, and till I have an opening—which, to tell the truth, is unlikely,” Mandy sputtered. “I’m real sorry about that. It’s all my fault that this happened, and I’d be more than happy to charge one-fourth of what I usually get for a real guest room. And you can eat your noon meal and supper with me, if you’d like,” Mandy quickly added before she could regret it.
“What a nightmare,” Trina murmured, seemingly mulling over her options.
“I can see you’re unhappy. . . . If you’d be more comfortable with a free stay, that’s fine, too.”
Trina turned and stared into the breakfast room. “I didn’t mean that I wanted a free vacation.”
“Just let me know what you want to do,” Mandy said. “In the meantime, I can call for a driver if you’d like to go sightseeing. You could even take an Amish sleigh ride up to Bird-in-Hand.”
“Thanks, but never mind. I can always call a cab.”
Thank heavens! Mandy thought. With all she had to get done today, she couldn’t spare more time to discern what, if anything, might appeal to Trina Sutton.
———
It took only minutes for Trina to file her online complaint to the worst travel company on the planet. Since no one was answering her call, she assumed they were avoiding her—perhaps based on her earlier voice mail.
The Proving Page 12
