“Nice to meet all of you. What would you like me to show you?”
Brad spoke first. “We need a part-time pastry chef to help Beth, and Antoine needs a sous chef on occasion. So the right person for us needs to be versatile.”
“Okay.”
“Let us see your knife work,” Antoine said, with a hint of an accent. “Please, dice an onion, filet a fish, and shuck the bowl of oysters.”
He could do those things, but he should have practiced. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Because all he’d be thinking about was the pastry part of the job. He had recipes in a journal, twists on traditional restaurant favorites as well as new concoctions all his own. Those were more valuable to him than his knife set, which he would never have the heart to part with.
Thad placed the knife set on the prep table and opened the case, before stepping to the nearest sink to wash his hands. He’d pulled out each knife in turn last night, sharpening each of them, before sliding them precisely into their individual lined pockets.
He dried his hands on a clean towel, and pulled his favorite knife from its sleeve and turned his attention to the onion in front of him. It was almost like his hands remembered how to maneuver the onion, and he made quick work of dicing it into tiny cubes, then scooping the bits into an empty bowl.
Next, for the fish, a run-of-the-mill trout. Thad slid the filet knife from its spot and something else slid out too. A small keychain, without a key. He paused as he stared at the keychain.
“Is something wrong? Because the onion looks terrific,” Beth said.
“No, not at all. Thank you.” He took his time filleting the fish. They’d probably judge this more strictly than the onion.
Someone had stuck a keychain in his knife case. A keychain with no key. It made no sense. It also meant someone had gone through his stuff, back in Columbus.
The last time he’d looked at those knives, other than last night, was when he left Columbus and packed up his things at Dish and Spoon.
*
Thad zipped along in the stop-and-go traffic all the way back to Pinecraft. His gut told him he’d done a decent job at the interview.
“I’ll give you a call,” Beth had said, sending him off with a grin.
Somehow he’d gotten through the interview with the old feeling coming back, as he answered every question and they drilled him about possible scenarios in the kitchen.
But what if it had been a mistake, and someone had stuck the keychain into his case, thinking it belonged to someone else. He was making a big deal out of likely nothing. Thad decelerated as he turned onto Bahia Vista.
His attention turned back to the job. What would people in the village think if he took a job at an Englisch restaurant? He wasn’t so much concerned with what they thought, but whether their opinion ought to matter to him.
He’d grown tired of doing next to nothing around here, and Henry hadn’t mentioned needing help with any tile work. Maybe after the first of the year. What else could he do, except what go back to what he knew? Part of him wanted to help Betsy in her bakery, but he knew the odds of her business succeeding. Mammi had told him about a television station coming to do a story about the bakery. Good news for Pinecraft Pies and Pastry.
Thad grinned as the Harley growled past the bakery. A WSAS van sat in the lone parking space beside the shop. Thad nearly decided to check in and see how the television filming was going. However, it could wait.
He continued along to the house and found it empty. He headed for the refuge of his room and set his helmet and knife case on the dresser, then opened his small backpack.
Thad took out the keychain again, turning it over with his fingers. The key fob was a dark gunmetal gray rectangle, smaller than a skinny pack of gum. It looked like one end—the end not attached to the chain—came off like a lid or a cap.
He pulled off the end, exposing a USB connector. Computer file storage, on a convenient keychain. He wasn’t totally computer illiterate, and his curiosity made him wonder even more about why the keychain had ended up in his knife set.
Someone had tucked it there, for safekeeping, maybe? Or maybe they’d confused his set with someone else’s at the restaurant. But he couldn’t see that happening. He never left his knives far from his reach.
He set the keychain on the dresser. He’d have to make time to go over to Rochelle Keim’s, yet again, and see if she minded him using her laptop, to see if there was anything on the USB drive.
Then again, maybe it would be better to find another computer to use besides Rochelle’s. The temptation to visit with Betsy would be strong, and he didn’t need it now.
He supposed he could ask Henry if he knew of anyone who would mind him using the computer. Either that, or Imogene. A former Amish woman who was now a shutterbug likely had a computer. He hadn’t seen her lately, either.
Thad figured he’d check with Ms. Keim if he could use her computer. If there was nothing on the USB drive, then nothing. He needn’t spend much time there, especially if Betsy were home.
He called Rochelle’s number and the call went straight to voice mail, so he left a message, asking if he might borrow some time on her computer for a few moments, when it was convenient for her.
Thad ended the call, and the fidgets began. He burned off some of the energy by washing the few dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, then by sweeping and mopping Mammi’s floor. Then he sharpened the few utility knives in the drawer.
Ben Esh came to mind. His old friend had extended an open invitation to stop by the RV park and visit before he and his musical group left Sarasota. Who knew when this chance would come again? More than anything at the moment, besides Rochelle Keim letting him know about using the computer, was having his questions answered about Ben’s life after leaving the Ordnung.
*
Rochelle looked at her calendar. Christmas, so close, less than a month away. And Daniel Troyer, leaving before Christmas. It was just as well she hadn’t let her defenses down with him, not completely. If he was leaving, then so be it. Silas Fry had made his own choice years ago.
She wondered how he’d been dealing with Belinda’s death. She didn’t dare consider asking anyone to find out, save her sister Jolene. But if she enlisted Jolene’s help, then everyone would know why Jolene was asking questions about Silas.
This quick affection for Daniel Troyer was borne out of nothing except sheer loneliness, and Rochelle knew it.
Lord, I don’t want to be with someone because of loneliness alone. I would rather suffer loneliness than be committed for a lifetime to the wrong person.
She tore her focus away from all things Daniel and Silas, then back to the calendar and her laptop. The aroma of supper in the oven made her mouth water.
The front door banged open.
“Aenti Chelle, I’m home. And … you have a visitor.” Emma entered the kitchen with Daniel following her. “Steven was dropping me off, just as Daniel arrived. I have some fish, too.” Emma held up a string of mullet.
“Hello.” Daniel stood in the entryway to the kitchen. He clutched his hat in one hand, and paper sack in the other. “I brought something too, but not fish.”
“Oh?” She didn’t get up from behind the laptop.
“Ice cream from Big Olaf’s. I asked if they could dish up a couple of quarts for me.” The man’s shoulders drooped. He glanced at Emma, who scurried onto the lanai with the fish.
“I see.” Her quiet home had turned into a three-ring circus, with Aenti Sarah napping in her room, Emma traipsing in sunburned after an afternoon of fishing with her friends, and now Daniel looking like a schoolboy in trouble. Now all she needed was Betsy and Winston to show up and the effect would be complete. She begrudged none of it, although her first instinct was to send Daniel home.
“Well,” she found her voice worked, “the least I can do is offer you supper, since you brought dessert.”
“Thank you.”
“You can put the ice cream in the freezer.” Rochel
le gestured with her head in the direction of the refrigerator. “I made slow cooker chicken curry. Have you ever had it before? It’s a bit spicy, but it also has coconut milk and sour cream in it.”
“No, can’t say as I have.” He stepped over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door. “I thought you might be done for the day. It’s nearly five-thirty.”
“I am. Just wrapping up a few accounts.”
A familiar step-click, step-click sounded in the hallway. Aenti Sarah and her walker. Beautiful timing. Rochelle smiled at the older woman. She almost opened her mouth to chide her about asking for help, but Aenti showed she was a stubborn bird. If Rochelle were in her nineties, she expected she would be, too.
“Supper ready yet?” Aenti Sarah sniffed the air, then studied Daniel. “You’re back.”
“He brought Big Olaf’s ice cream, and yes, supper is almost ready.” Rochelle rose from her chair. “I need to check the rice.”
“Huh. What are you making with rice? I was in the mood for some meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”
Rochelle tried not to sigh. “I’ll make some of that tomorrow night. I was busy today, so I put supper in the slow cooker before I left this morning.”
The front door opened again. It would be Betsy, home from the bakery.
“Hello.” Betsy trudged into the kitchen and set her tote bag on the table beside Rochelle’s computer.
“Hello to you, too.” Rochelle scanned Betsy’s face. “How did the television interview go today? Well, I hope?”
“Yes, it went well.” Betsy frowned as she sank onto the nearest chair. She cast a glance at Aenti Sarah continuing her step-click to the front room and a cushioned armchair, then glanced over to Daniel. “They were careful about how they filmed, but now I’m not sure if it’ll even make it to television.”
“Why not? What happened?” Aenti Chelle took the chair across from Betsy. “Daniel, please, sit down.”
“I can come back. This is family business, after all.” The man shifted from one foot to the other.
“No, you don’t have to leave.”
“Yes, it’s okay.” Betsy wanted to cry, but she didn’t. Crying was for little girls and she’d done enough crying over things she had no say about. “Somebody—I don’t know who—called the television station and told them I have someone baking for me who’s not Amish.”
“Well, whatever is wrong with that? For a while, you’ve had Thaddeus Zook helping you prep in the early mornings. But Vera and you do the baking and frying.” Aenti Chelle shook her head. “Of all the nerve, calling and trying to ruin things for you.”
“I know. But the newswoman looked nervous, said she needed to tell me and she’d have to run things by her bosses and let them know. She said the caller said it wasn’t right some people were pretending to be Amish and trying to get other people’s money.”
Daniel Troyer sat up sharply in his chair, so much so that the feet scraped on the tile floor. “Pardon me. My knee had a spasm. From when I fell the other morning.”
Betsy paused. She didn’t like the man. Not at all. Not with his fancy watch—now missing from his wrist—and his Plain-looking hair and beard. She heard Winston scratching at the back door leading to the lanai.
“Oh, I’ll let Winston in. Sorry,” Aenti Chelle said as she stood, “I was so wrapped up in my work when I got home I didn’t let him in.” She headed for the sliding glass door, and Winston skittered onto the tiles.
He slid to a stop when he saw Daniel, and the hair on his back rose. Then he growled.
“Winston, be nice.” Betsy shook her head at the dog, but she found it hard to blame him. “He’s a little protective.”
“It’s a good quality in a dog, even a small one.” Daniel reached down. “Here, boy. C’mon.” Winston didn’t budge.
“So, when will this newswoman let you know?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’m trying not to let it bother me much, but I can’t help it. I know it has to be someone in the village who called her, it must be. And then I don’t want to think about it, because it’s horrible to think someone here would do such a thing.”
Aenti Chelle sighed and headed for the stove. Winston followed, looking over his shoulder. “Winston, it’s just rice. Nothing interesting for a dog.”
At any other time, Betsy would have laughed at Winston. But not now. She wondered what her daed would tell her about this latest development. He’d warned her about Thaddeus Zook.
“Here, let’s eat. Help me with the plates. I know you’re tired, and it’s been a busy day. I know dealing with the camera hasn’t been easy, either.”
Betsy joined Aenti Chelle by the cabinets. No amount of her aenti’s untraditional cooking would soothe the disappointment tonight.
If only Thaddeus were here. The idea of having his listening ear, along with the rest of him around her, helped a little.
24
Thad and Ben Esh chatted the afternoon away under a tree dripping with Spanish moss. He met Ben’s wife, Tisha, a nurse. The couple had attended the same college near Lancaster in central Pennsylvania and married not long after graduation.
He and Ben were on their third cup of coffee after an early supper when the subject of being Amish or not Amish came up, along with the whole shunning thing.
“Don’t you know, if you were never baptized, you technically aren’t shunned? Sure, if you ever went back, you’d have to go through proving. But no, they shouldn’t have shunned you.” Ben Esh shook his head.
“But, your family—they still speak to you and welcome you into their home?” Thad asked.
“Yes, they do. I haven’t left my faith, either.” Ben’s tone grew more serious. “I’m sorry your experience has been far different than mine.”
Thad shrugged. “I can’t change the past. What’s done, is done.”
“God has gifted you with a unique talent, Thad. But whether you’re Plain, or not, you’re the one who has to ‘work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.’ I can’t judge you. As long as you believe Christ’s work on the cross saved us all, well, we have plenty of common ground.”
Thad nodded slowly. He was still trying to get his brain to catch up with the idea of shunning versus not shunning hinging on baptism. It seemed he had run off on Rumspringa, so to speak, and hadn’t returned. As far as what Ben said about Jesus, he already knew all about it. He’d been raised on the story of the cross and condemnation. But salvation and redemption? Those things seemed too hard to worry about.
Thad’s phone buzzed. Rochelle Keim, calling him back.
“Excuse me, Ben. I’ve been waiting for this call.”
“No problem.”
Thad pushed the button on his phone and headed toward the base of the tree, away from the picnic table beside the RV. “Hello, Ms. Keim.”
“I got your message, Thaddeus. If you’d like to come by this evening to use the laptop, you’re more than welcome. I know Betsy will be glad to see you, too.”
“All right, thank you. Thank you so much.” Betsy will be glad to see you, too.
“Come by, anytime. But we generally close up around nine during the evenings around here.”
He glanced at his phone. The time was heading past six-thirty now. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Everything okay?” Ben asked as Thad returned to the table.
“Yes, I need swing by another friend’s house on my way home.” Friends. As reluctant as he’d been when first coming here, yes, he did have friends in Pinecraft.
“I’ve enjoyed catching up with you.” Ben stood, and the two shook hands. “Let’s keep in touch, okay? You’re going to be staying in Sarasota?”
“Yes. I think so, if I get called back on the job in Siesta Key Village.”
“Well, I’ll be praying you find your way.”
“Thanks, Ben.”
As Thad rode off on his motorcycle, it felt as though the future loomed ahead of him, as uncertain as ever. But for now, he could focus on one thing—seei
ng what was on that USB keychain.
He roared up on his Harley to Rochelle Keim’s house, and parked in front. Another vehicle occupied the space in the driveway beside Rochelle’s van.
Betsy answered his knock, along with Winston, who gave Thad a boisterous greeting. “Hello, come in. My aenti said you’d be stopping by.” He’d missed her wide smile lately. Something in her eyes, though, made him pause.
“How did everything go today?”
“It went well, I think. Although Emma left halfway through the day when some of her friends came by, to go fishing.” She made a face like she’d just sucked a lemon slice, then opened the screen door and he followed her into the house. Whatever had been supper smelled terrific. He thought he caught a whiff of curry powder in the air.
“Ah, I see.” He glanced around the kitchen, then heard voices coming from the opening sliding glass door from a covered lanai beyond. “Oh. I saw the car out front. You have company?”
“Daniel Troyer.”
“Huh. I should get a look at this guy.”
Betsy reached out and clutched his arm. “No—they’re talking. If we start introductions, he’ll stay even later. I’m hoping she’s going to send him off soon, anyway. And I can’t keep this from her much longer. I feel like she knows I don’t care for the man. Neither does Winston.”
She kept hold of his arm and he couldn’t resist the chance to gently take her hand between his. “Betsy, if things were different …”
“But they’re not.” She pulled her hand from his grasp.
He nodded. “Uh, about Daniel. I should tell you … I called that company he supposedly works for in Indiana. They told me the Daniel Troyer who worked for them passed away this spring.”
“No. Unless we have the wrong Daniel Troyer?” She shook her head.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I was visiting with Henry the other night, and he promised me he’d ask around, too. I don’t know as many people as he does in the Plain communities. Well, they’d talk to him a little more quickly than me.”
She frowned. “All right. I know he won’t say anything. Maybe I should have asked him first. But…”
A Path Made Plain Page 22
