“I’m so happy that you two are doing things together, dear.” Her mamm didn’t even try to hide her enormous smile.
“It’s not like that.”
“Often it’s not...until it is.”
Becca thought of arguing, but she had a feeling that the more she protested, the more she sounded like a teenage girl with a crush on the new boy in town. So instead, she kissed her mamm on the cheek, snagged her coat and hurried outside.
Daniel was speaking to her dat, who was grinning as if Christmas had already come. She arrived in time to hear him ask, “What did the farmer say when he lost one of his cows?”
“Hmm. I can’t imagine.” Daniel looked at her and wriggled his eyebrows.
“He said, What a miss-steak!”
Her dat would have launched right into another joke, if Becca hadn’t intervened. “I guess we better hurry so we make it to town before the stores get too busy.”
Daniel looked skyward, as if he expected help from that direction. At least he didn’t argue with her in front of her dat.
“So they don’t know?” he asked in a low voice.
“Of course they don’t know.”
“Don’t you feel guilty about that?”
“Did you tell your parents everything when you were twenty-four?”
Daniel scrubbed his hand across his face. “Nein. I didn’t, but this isn’t about me.”
It was a beautiful day, but Becca could hardly appreciate it with butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. She told herself that it was about the interview, but it was also about the man sitting next to her. When had she begun to think of Daniel in that way? She shook off the thoughts and suggested he drop her off at the mercantile’s front door.
“I thought we’d walk in together.”
“And I thought it would be better if it didn’t look like we were a couple.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
The scowl on his face was almost comical, but he didn’t argue with her. She didn’t bother looking back as she slammed the buggy door shut. She could do this. She could be an independent woman, and she could show Daniel Glick that she knew how to take advantage of a good business opportunity when she saw one.
She hurried into the mercantile, past JoJo’s Pretzels and into the coffee shop. The place smelled like baked goods and freshly ground coffee, and the shelves were covered with packaged teas, coffee and mugs. A mere eight tables were scattered throughout the space, so it was pretty easy to spot the man who had given her the flyer when she was last in town.
“Hi, I’m Becca.”
“And I’m Sean Wilson. Would you like a coffee?”
“Ya. Danki.” She told him how she liked her coffee and tried not to crinkle her nose at the smell of his too-strong cologne. Sean Wilson used a little too much hair gel, too. In fact, without his baseball cap on, he seemed older than she’d first thought. Why would anyone comb their hair over and plaster it down? The look was somewhat ridiculous, but then she supposed Englisch had different styles than Amish. She knew the women did, so perhaps the men did, as well.
She settled into the table he’d been waiting for her at, while he went to purchase her drink. There was a stack of flyers on the table, or perhaps they were simply full-size photographs. The first was the one she had seen, where the Amish woman and two children were walking away.
Becca glanced up, confirmed that Sean Wilson’s attention was with the barista, and scanned through the pictures. Only the top three were similar in nature. As she quickly glanced through the others, she was alarmed to see that they were women looking directly at the camera, some in Amish clothes, some not in Amish clothes, and some in poses that struck her as quite flirtatious.
Her mouth went suddenly dry, and she could feel her heartbeat pulsing in her temples.
It was really none of her business what types of photographs Sean’s company used in their advertisements. Didn’t she see the same thing on every Englisch magazine at the store? She would never pose in such a way, and she would make that quite clear.
As Sean walked back toward the table with her coffee, he passed Daniel. Daniel turned, gave her a thumbs-up, then ordered his own coffee. By the time Becca was able to direct the conversation to any possible work, Daniel was seated two tables behind them facing her. Close enough in case she needed him, but far enough away to give them some semblance of privacy.
“I’m glad you responded to our ad.” Sean restacked the photographs. If he noticed she’d looked through them, he didn’t remark on it. “How long have you wanted to be a model?”
Becca nearly spilled her coffee. “Oh, I have no desire to be a model.”
“No?”
“Nein. I mean, no. I’m willing to have a tasteful photograph taken, like this one on top.” She tapped the stack of photographs. Best to get this out in the open now. “But I’d never pose like some of those beneath—where the woman is looking right at the camera or where she has her shirt off her shoulder.”
“You’re shy.”
“I’m not shy in the least, but I wouldn’t go against our Ordnung.”
“I see.” He sipped his coffee and studied her. “You have beautiful features.”
Becca didn’t know how to answer that, so she didn’t. Then she remembered something her dat had said recently. Straight ahead is shorter than round about. Best to plunge in and get this over with.
“Mr. Wilson—”
“Sean.”
She nodded, but she didn’t use his first name. It seemed too personal—as if they were friends, and she wasn’t at all sure about that.
“The question isn’t about my features, not really, since any pictures I would do for you would be facing away from the camera. The question is simply where, when and how much you’re paying.”
“I like a gal who gets straight to the point.”
Gal? Did he just call her a gal? Something about this meeting wasn’t going as planned. The butterflies in her stomach had switched to the feeling of a lump—something in between having eaten too much and having a stomach bug.
“I rather like straight answers.”
“All right.” He again straightened the stack of photographs, then met her gaze head-on. “The truth is that I have plenty of women who are willing to put on a bonnet—”
“It’s a kapp.”
“Plenty of gals who will wear a badly designed dress and walk away from the camera. I can get that any day of the week. Would we pay you for it? Probably not, but you’d at least be gaining some experience and photo shoots that you could add to your portfolio.”
“I don’t need experience, and I don’t have a portfolio.”
Sean continued, as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “What pays better—you’d be surprised how much—is for you to let us give you some fashionable clothes, let your hair down, literally, and then allow some private viewings of your photography shoot.”
Becca stood up so quickly that she jostled the coffee out of both of their cups, right onto the stack of photographs. She didn’t care. In fact, she had the irrational thought that she’d like to pick up his stupid stack of pictures and toss them on the floor.
Some part of her mind recognized that Daniel had stood and was moving toward them. She didn’t pause. She wasn’t waiting for her knight in shining armor to arrive and save her from the bad man. She was ready to give the bad man a piece of her mind.
“This is not what you advertised, and it is not what I agreed to.”
Oh, if only she could wipe the smirk off his face.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Wilson. If that’s even your real name. You can be sure that my bishop will be hearing about this—”
“And the police.” Daniel’s steady presence beside her calmed her quaking nerves.
“Yes, and the police.”
&n
bsp; Sean Wilson laughed. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
“Nein. I don’t. What I do think is that some of the girls in these pictures were underage, and I’m wondering if you had their parents’ permission to photograph them.”
A cold and hostile expression passed over Sean’s face. “Don’t even think about messing with me, lady. Just because you think you’re too good...”
“She is too good.” Daniel was now standing shoulder to shoulder with Becca. “And we both think it would be best if you leave now. Or would you like me to call the owner over? We’d be happy to tell her that you’re running a business—very likely an illegal business—in her coffee shop.”
Sean Wilson was already gathering up his things. Without another word, he stormed out the door. Becca walked to the window while Daniel went to speak with the shop owner. When he returned, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Ya.”
“What’s that?” He nodded toward the folded sheet of paper in her hands. It was the flyer that Sean had given her when she’d first met him, and on the back, she’d written the type of car he was driving, as well as his license plate number.
“I think we need to go to the police again.”
Chapter Nine
Daniel directed Constance toward the police station. Once there, they told the receptionist that they’d like to speak to an officer, and then sat down in the waiting area. Just like before.
Becca had been completely silent on the way over. Now she looked at him, misery etched on her face, and admitted, “I feel like a fool.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t take someone else’s poor actions and blame yourself for them.”
The worry lines between her eyes eased. She didn’t quite smile, but neither was she staring blankly at her hands. It was an improvement.
“Is that something written in your book?”
“Nein.”
“Maybe it should be.”
Before she could tease him more about his notebook, Officer Raquel Sanchez appeared in the doorway. “You two again.”
Becca and Daniel stood.
“More CBD plants?”
“Nein.” Becca stepped forward, and Daniel was relieved to see that some of the color had returned to her face. “But I think we need to report a crime.”
Sanchez tilted her head, then said, “Better come on back.”
Daniel noticed the other desks in the large room were still a mess, and Sanchez’s was still a beacon of cleanliness and order.
There was one chair sitting next to Sanchez’s desk, and she moved over another. She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, then said, “Okay. Tell it to me from the beginning.”
Becca did, and Daniel didn’t interrupt. Sanchez wrote down a few notes, then asked, “Did you feel threatened in any way?”
“He seemed threatening to me.” Daniel glanced at Becca who nodded once. “Especially after Becca told him he had misrepresented himself on the advertising sheet.”
“And are you sure the photographs were of underage girls?”
“They seemed awfully young to me, but here’s the thing...” Becca glanced nervously to her right and left, then lowered her voice, though they were the only ones in the room. “I think I recognized a couple of the girls. I think they’re Amish girls, from our community. At least I’m pretty sure one is, and I know she’s only twelve—same age as my schweschder.”
“Okay.” Officer Sanchez sat back in her chair, causing it to creak. “It’s not illegal for teenage girls to have modeling gigs. On the other hand, it is illegal to misrepresent yourself, to coerce girls into modeling that they’re not comfortable with, and you definitely need parental permission if the girl is a minor.” She sat forward, elbows on her desk, fingers steepled. “Are you willing to give me the name of the girl you saw?”
“I wouldn’t want to get her in trouble with her parents.”
“I understand.” Sanchez waited a moment, then picked up a pen and tapped the sheet where she’d written the information regarding Wilson’s car. “On the other hand, you might be protecting her.”
“Protecting her in what way?”
“Are you familiar with human trafficking?”
“I’ve read a few articles about it.”
Daniel shifted in his seat. “Our community in Pennsylvania was briefed on it by local law enforcement. They were afraid Plain girls might be an easy target.”
Sanchez sat back, causing her chair to squeak. “We’ve had chatter lately about a human trafficking ring that has set up along the I-90 corridor. Those girls sometimes get lured in thinking that they’ve signed up for a modeling job, only to find that much more is expected of them.”
“That’s terrible.”
“If we could talk to this girl, see what she has to say...then possibly we’d have enough to put an All Points Bulletin out for Sean Wilson.”
Becca glanced at Daniel.
“Think if it was Francine,” he said, which he knew would push her toward doing the right thing.
Becca gave Sanchez the girl’s name and directions to her house.
“Can you give me some idea how her parents will react to this?”
“Her dat’s pretty strict, and her mamm is... I guess you could say she’s a bit timid.”
“Okay. This is in your church district?”
“Ya.”
“And Saul Lapp is your bishop?”
“He is.”
“Then I’ll swing by and speak with Bishop Saul first, see if he’d like to go with me. In these instances, it can help to keep everyone calm and reasonable if we have a clergyman along.”
“Is there anything else we can do?” Becca stood, pulled her purse strap tight over her shoulder and stepped closer to Daniel. He liked that—that she would find some comfort from his presence.
“Nothing I can think of at the moment, but I appreciate your coming in. A lot of people wouldn’t. They’d just think they misread the situation or that they were overeager to make a buck. The fact that you were willing to come forward and talk to us—it shows a real level of maturity. It shows how much you care for your community.” Sanchez walked them out of the office and thanked them again. She promised to let them know if there were any developments in the case.
When they stepped outside, Becca stood there on the steps, her face turned up to the November sunshine.
“Are you okay?”
She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before answering. “Feels like this day has already lasted forever.”
“Nope. Only—” he checked his watch “—ninety minutes.”
“Unbelievable.”
“We still have time to go shopping for the things on your mamm’s list. Only two days until Thanksgiving. I imagine she’s going to be pretty busy cooking the next few days.”
“Thanksgiving.” Becca hooked her arm through his and they walked toward the buggy together. “I have a lot to be thankful for this year.”
“Even though the job didn’t work out?”
“Even though.” She turned to him as he opened the buggy’s door. “Danki, Daniel. It was gut having you there with me. I like to think of myself as an independent woman—”
“You are an independent woman.”
“But even so, having a friend along is a gut thing. Danki for being there for me today.”
He felt his face flush, thought of kissing her, then wondered if he’d gone a little crazy to consider doing such a thing in public in broad daylight. “Just being a gut neighbor.”
She hopped up into the buggy. He untethered Constance, then climbed into the driver’s seat. They were nearly to the store when Becca said, “I owe you.”
“You do not.”
“And I mean to pay you back. You’ve helpe
d me out of a tight spot twice now.”
“Nothing to pay back.” He could tell that her mood had shifted, though, and that the spunky, playful Becca was nearly back. “But if you did, um, pay me back...what did you have in mind?”
She rubbed her hands up and down her cheeks, patting them slightly. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe some turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce...”
“Homemade?”
“Of course it’s homemade. Then there will be the vegetable casseroles, fresh bread, cakes and pies.”
“Stop,” he groaned. “I haven’t had your mamm’s cooking for almost two weeks.”
“Still having canned soup at your place?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“So you wouldn’t be averse to accepting a dinner invitation?”
“I wouldn’t.”
Becca laughed. “We were going to ask you anyway. Mamm reminded me before you showed up this morning.”
“Is that so?”
“Ya. You’re like an honorary family member, Daniel.”
For reasons he didn’t want to examine, a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed past it and tried to focus on the road. Becca was headstrong and somewhat naive in certain situations, especially those outside a Plain community. She was also kind, free-spirited, and passionate about life.
He couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be on Thanksgiving, anywhere better than with the young woman sitting beside him and her family.
* * *
Becca pulled out the shopping list her mamm had given her. They might live on one of the worst farms in Shipshe, but on Thursday they would thank the Lord for the things they had. They’d pray and eat and laugh and be together. And that wasn’t a bad way to spend Thanksgiving. In fact, looking at Daniel, who was suddenly grinning like a child on his birthday, she realized that she was actually looking forward to the holiday.
The next hour passed pleasantly enough as she and Daniel filled the cart with items for the Thanksgiving meal.
“I’d like to help pay for this.”
“Oh, no, you won’t.”
“But...”
“Uh-uh. Not going to happen. We don’t ask guests to dinner and then have them pay their way.” She pulled out the bills her mamm had given her and paid the cashier.
The Amish Christmas Secret Page 12
