The heavenly aroma of the progressive dinner’s main course wafted across the lobby from the dining room. A line of open French doors separated the dining room from the lobby. The hotel didn’t have a full Amish restaurant, but it provided an Amish breakfast for the guests each morning and Amish baked goods in the afternoon. Tonight the hotel dining room was where the main course of the progressive dinner would be served. Actors in costume from the play wandered around the lobby in character as they waited for the progressive diners to arrive.
Mitchell turned to face me in front of the tree. The white lights reflected off the silver in his hair, making his unusual aquamarine eyes sparkle—or that sparkle could have been from his amusement at my comments. “I suppose you could call him that.” He nodded to Oliver. “Are you sure he’s allowed in here?”
“Mimi doesn’t mind. He’s been with me all week while Mattie and I have been preparing for the quilt show.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And Martha?”
“Martha too, but we are working independently, for a lack of a better description. I have yet to get a smile out of her, much less a direct conversation. She will speak to Mattie though, so I’m trying just to ignore it.”
“Will she be here tonight?”
“I don’t think so. She’s participating in the quilt show, but I can’t see her having anything to do with a play called An Amish Christmas. That would go against every protest she has ever made about English and Amish relations.”
The front door of the hotel opened again. A gust of arctic air buffeted the tree and blew my wild blond curls into my face. I pushed them away to see the first of the progressive diners step inside the hotel. The noise volume inside the lobby rose as their happy chatter filled the room.
Mitchell squeezed my elbow. “Remember what I said about introducing me to your parents and Ryan,” he called as he melted into the crowd.
I couldn’t be more grateful that Mitchell was giving me the time to tell my parents about us my way, but I also knew that time was limited.
As my father stepped through the door, he waved at me. With a new full beard on his face and belly to match, he looked like a stand-in for Santa, a role he’d played before. I couldn’t help but smile, and a pang of homesickness swept through me. Holmes County was home now, but I would always be Daddy’s little girl.
Ryan’s face brightened as if I had been waving to him. I dropped my hand. Mom scrutinized the chandelier above. Her sleek blond hair fell perfectly to the shoulders of her cranberry red wool coat. Her scarf and gloves matched the coat.
I was happy to see that many of the progressive diners had wandered into the large sitting room where the quilt show was happening. Maybe I would drum up some business from this dinner and play after all. It certainly couldn’t hurt business.
My parents and Ryan wove through the other progressive diners to reach me.
“Angie Bear! There you are.” Dad wrapped his arms around me. “I didn’t get a chance to give you a proper hug back at Running Stitch. You were so busy, but I could see you were in your element.”
It felt so good to be squeezed against his soft tummy. Clearly, my mother had not been successful in making him stick to his diet. Maybe I could give him a talking-to about it. My father had always been big, which wasn’t a problem. I couldn’t imagine him as thin, but he could lose a few pounds. I worried about his health.
He let me go.
“Thanks, Dad.” I hugged my mother. “You too, Mom.”
She was in head-to-toe Chanel and smelled like No. 5. She kissed both of my cheeks. “Angie, couldn’t you have put on a dress for tonight? You are a township trustee, after all.”
I glanced down at my cords and pink snowflake-patterned sweater I thought I was dressed pretty fancy for my life in Rolling Brook. My typical outfit consisted of jeans. It was a far cry from the suits and dresses I had worn to my advertising job in Dallas.
I nodded to Ryan. “Hello, Ryan.”
His face broke into a boyish grin. “Hi, Angie. I was afraid that you were going to pretend I wasn’t here.”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“Angie,” my mother reprimanded.
“I don’t deserve anything more,” he said with the lopsided grin still intact. “I hope we—”
“So, how do y’all like the progressive dinner?” I interrupted him, and noticed that my Texas twang reemerged as I spoke to them.
My father beamed. “It’s been wonderful. I forgot how much I missed good old Amish cooking. I had three helpings of Amish noodles at the yarn shop up the street from your store. The noodles were just like the ones Eleanor used to make.”
My mother folded her thin arms, and a wave of perfume filled the air. “Kent, I don’t know what I am going to do with you. You aren’t even pretending to stick to your diet.”
“Aww, it’s the holidays. Everyone gains weight this time of year. I would hate to be losing weight and making everyone around me feel inferior. I’ll just have to wait until after New Year’s to start my diet. I can’t insult Angie’s Amish friends by turning my nose up at the food that they have to offer me, now can I? That would be rude.” He winked at me.
“What a lovely hotel,” my mother said, changing the subject. “It wouldn’t be fair to compare it to the finer hotels in Dallas, but it’s quite a step up from those I remember when your father and I lived here.”
“How kind of you, Mom,” I said.
The hotel appealed to those looking for Amish sensibilities with its sturdily built and impossibly shiny Amish wood furniture. However, it clearly was not an Amish business. Twenty feet above me in the main lobby was an electric crystal chandelier that shimmered and sparkled. Of course, the Amish wouldn’t use electric lighting, but more than that, they would never have something so extravagant in their homes. It provided so much light that even standing beside the large Christmas tree at the very front of the hotel, I could see the sparkling indoor pool on the other side of the dining room.
The long registration desk was made of polished dark wood. Two receptionists stood behind it, ready to answer questions. The guests stopped there and then moved through the lobby into the dining room. Many of them were chatting with the actors as they went.
I stood there, taking it all in.
Oliver, on the other hand, reached up and put his paws on Ryan’s legs.
Ryan squatted in front of the Frenchie and scratched him between the ears just how Oliver liked it. A pang of memory hit me. Ryan had been with me when I adopted Oliver as a puppy. He’d helped me house-train him. If nothing else, he had always been kind to my dog. To me, that goes a long way.
“Hey, you old rascal,” Ryan said. “Did you miss me?”
Oliver licked his face in reply.
Ryan looked up at me with those chocolate brown eyes, which were as familiar to me as my own. “Did you miss me?” he whispered.
I pretended not to hear the question.
“Angie, who was that man you were talking to when we came in?” my mother asked with a raised eyebrow. “He seemed very interested in what you had to say.”
“Oh, that was the sheriff. He’s attending the dinner tonight too.”
“They must have had some township business to discuss with all the trustees, Daphne. Don’t read so much into everything.”
“Trustees?” Ryan asked.
“Didn’t we tell you, Ryan?” my father asked. “Angie Bear is a township trustee for Rolling Brook. I’d say that was mighty impressive for a gal living here only a few months. I always knew you were destined for politics.”
Yep, the next stop is the White House.
My mother jabbed him with her elbow. “How can you say that you always knew that? You never said that about Angie a day in her life.”
“I thought it.”
I smiled at my parents’ good-natured squab
bling. As much as it drove me crazy when I was a teenager, I missed it now. It remained to be seen if I would still miss it by the end of the week.
“Being a township trustee is impressive,” Ryan said with awe in his voice. “You look like you fit in here.” He frowned. “That came out wrong.”
I gave him a genuine smile. “No, it didn’t. That’s probably the best compliment you’ve ever given me.”
Ryan frowned as he thought about that.
A round woman in Amish dress rang a bell. “Dinner is served in the breakfast room. Please find your place cards as you go in.”
We followed the actors and other diners through the French doors. A long table with a navy cloth over it dominated the room. It was elegantly decorated with pine and holly, white dishes, and polished silverware.
In addition to the actors and progressive diners, there were the sheriff, the other township trustees, and Mimi Ford, the hotel owner. I found myself seated between a young, striking girl in Amish dress and a tall, thin man in a charcoal suit and shiny black shoes. I couldn’t see her place card, but his said WADE BROOKLYN.
I picked up my water glass and asked the girl, “Are you an actress or Amish?”
She rolled a baby carrot across her plate with the back of her fork. “I’m both.”
I started coughing and almost spat water across the table onto Ryan’s plate. Fortunately, I was able to regain control of myself. Remembering my encounter with Nahum, I thought there had already been enough spitting for one night. I felt Mitchell watching me from the farthest end of the table.
“I’m Angie Braddock,” I said. “I’m one of the township trustees.”
She blinked at me. “You don’t look like a trustee.”
“What does a trustee look like?”
“Older. Irritable.”
I laughed and lowered my voice. “We have some of those, but we have some cheerful people on the board too,” I said, thinking of my friend Willow Moon. If the girl thought I didn’t look like a Rolling Brook trustee, then she would never believe Willow was one. Willow was at the end of the table near the sheriff in an animated conversation with a brunette girl in English dress. Her lavender hair was cropped close to her head, and she fingered the purple crystal pendant resting on the front of her signature gauzy blouse.
The girl next to me nodded her head. “I’m happy to hear that. Not everyone would agree with me, but change is good for Rolling Brook. When I came back, I thought everything was exactly as I left it. I’m glad to see I’m wrong.”
I shook her hand. “And you are?” I asked, although I had already guessed.
“I’m Eve Shetler,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “I’m sure you have heard about me.”
I didn’t deny it. I wanted to ask her about her uncle Nahum, but it didn’t seem right to ask the girl about her crazy uncle just before she went onstage for her big opening night. She must know that Nahum was causing problems for the play.
The roast turkey, baked ham, roast beef, boiled potatoes, carrots, and Amish casserole were served, which saved me from making a choice about asking her about her uncle.
“Gracious,” said my mother, who sat on the other side of Eve and typically had water and salad for three meals a day. “How are we ever to eat all of this food?”
“You just have to take it on as a challenge, my dear,” Dad said, with knife and fork at the ready.
I picked up my own knife and fork, ready to dive in. I thought I would follow my father’s lead and worry about my diet after the New Year. Besides, that’s when it’s trendy to worry about your weight anyway.
Eve stared at her plate.
“You aren’t hungry?” I asked.
“Opening-night jitters, I guess.” She smiled. “Usually, I can push my nerves away, but there’s something completely different about acting here, so close to my old community.”
“You have the lead.” I cleared my throat. “I—I saw it in the program.”
She chuckled. “I know the entire county is talking about me. You don’t have to pretend that you didn’t hear the gossip.”
“Okay.” I cut a roasted carrot in half with my knife. “I won’t.”
The man to my left leaned into our conversation. “Eve is the star of our little production.” He held out his hand to me. “I’m Wade Brooklyn, the director. She is magnificent in the play. I’m taking all the credit for discovering her when she becomes a star on Broadway.”
“From your lips to the casting directors’ ear,” Eve said with a smile, and then turned her head to reply to a question that my mother asked her.
Farley, who was also representing the township trustees at the dinner, patted his perpetually greasy hair. “I appreciate you wearing your uniform tonight, Sheriff. We don’t want any trouble from Nahum.”
Beside me, I felt Eve tense, and across the table from me, Ryan’s head snapped in the direction of that conversation.
Mimi pursed her lips. “Farley, I don’t believe there is any reason for concern.”
“Who’s Nahum?” one of the progressive diners asked.
“Just a crazed Amish man,” a handsome man in English dress and a surprising British accent said from across the table.
My mother leaned forward. “What crazed Amish man?”
I’d forgotten that my mother’s love of gossip was rivaled only by that of Sarah Leham, a member of my quilting circle. Sarah knew more about the lives of the Amish in Holmes County than anyone—just as my mother had the same level of information on the socialites in Dallas.
“The man is a menace.” Wade gripped his water glass so tightly, I was afraid it would crack in his hand. “He shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the property. Mimi, you should take out a restraining order.”
Mimi forced a laugh. “Nahum is all bluster. There will be no need for that.”
I watched Eve out of the corner of my eye. She shifted in her seat.
Behind me there was a crash. Everyone turned to look. An Amish girl—I believed this one really was practicing Amish—put a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.” She stood over the remains of a glass coffee carafe.
“Junie, please clean up.” Mimi’s brow furrowed. “And then go back to the kitchen for a fresh pot of coffee.”
The girl dropped to her knees and started to gather up the pieces.
Eve stood up. “I can help her.”
Wade reached across me and stopped her with his hand. “No, Eve, I don’t want my star taking any chances, like getting cut by glass before her big debut.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Junie said barely above a whisper. I wouldn’t have heard her if she hadn’t been directly behind me.
I jumped out of my seat. “I don’t have any reason to fear broken glass.”
As I knelt beside her and put pieces of glass on a plastic tray, she whispered, “Danki.”
“Wilkumm,” I whispered back and smiled as her eyes widened.
Eve turned in her seat and peered down at us. “Junie,” she whispered.
Junie wouldn’t look at the other girl and fled with her tray.
I gave Eve a questioning look, but she faced forward without a word.
Chapter Four
Shortly thereafter, the actors excused themselves to prepare for the performance, and the guests bundled themselves back into their winter coats and scarves to make the short but chilly walk from the hotel to the barn where the play would be held.
I followed the crowd with my parents and Ryan, preoccupied by the encounter I had witnessed between Eve and the Amish waitress. I was thankful the wind was too brisk for much conversation, so Ryan could not attempt to ask me whatever he had wanted to say in the hotel lobby.
Inside the barn, padded folding chairs twenty rows deep were set up for the au
dience. The hand-built stage was at the far end of the barn. Blue velvet curtains had been installed and the stage floor polished. It seemed Mimi had spared no expense on the new business venture.
High above, three ceiling fans turned lazily, pushing the warm air from the central heating back down onto the onlookers. The place was packed. Attendees who weren’t part of the dinner were already seated, but there were two rows in the middle and front that remained open. I knew those were reserved for the progressive diners.
Just inside the barn door, my mother brushed snow off her coat with her gloves. “I forgot how cold it is here. Maybe my blood has thinned since I’ve lived in a warmer climate. I saw a special on one of those science programs on television about that. People who live in extreme heat often can’t stand polar temperatures.”
My father chuckled as he removed his own gloves. “Daphne, you don’t live in extreme heat. Ninety-nine percent of your time is spent in air-conditioning.”
“You never take my ideas seriously.”
My father smiled. “I take all of your ideas seriously.”
Willow pushed her way through the crowd toward me. She was hard to miss because she had styled her supershort hair into tiny spikes for opening night. Despite her looks, everyone in Holmes County accepted Willow, even the Amish. I suspected that they just found her to be eccentric. She was one of the longest-
standing township trustees. I partially had her to blame for my post on the board.
Willow’s gauzy blouse ballooned around her as her blouses always did. “Angie, thank goodness you’re here. One of the ushers called in sick, and I need someone to pass out programs.” She shoved a stack of glossy programs into my hands. “If you run out, there are more of those behind the hay bale there in a cardboard box.” She pointed at the hay bale.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m happy to help.”
My mother gave a tense smile. “My daughter is a township trustee. Isn’t there someone else who can pass out the programs?”
Willow held out her hand to shake my mother’s. “Of course, I know she is. That’s exactly why I asked her. Willow Moon. I’m a trustee too. It’s all hands on deck for such a little township when it comes to events.”
Murder, Served Simply Page 3
