“Only a little while your schweschder napped.” Eunice turned back to Amber. “Do you quilt?”
“No. I don’t. But I’d love to watch for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”
“We don’t mind at all.”
Hannah wondered if that was true. She’d been looking forward to a quiet afternoon at home, sewing and relaxing. Could she do that with her boss watching over her shoulder? But she soon found that Amber wasn’t a distraction at all. As her mother and Amber talked, Hannah forgot about any worries at the Village and did what she loved to do—rocking the needle through the layers of the quilt, laying down a neat, tight row of stitches.
“You make that look so easy.” Amber leaned forward. “How long have you been quilting?”
“Since I was small. Would you like to try?”
“No! I wouldn’t dare. I might make a terrible mess of your quilt.”
“You’ll only learn by trying,” Eunice said. “But if you don’t want to work on the quilt, we have some extra pieces of material you could practice on.”
Hannah fetched the sample square they’d made before the work on the quilt had begun. “Use this. It was for practice and we never quilted it, only pieced it together.”
The next hour was spent making progress on the Lone Star quilt and laughing at Amber’s attempts to hand quilt. It had taken her a good ten minutes to thread the needle, then she’d proceeded to stick her finger repeatedly. Each time she yelped, Mattie ran to her side to be sure she was all right. Her stitches were uneven, too large, and in a rather wavy line, but she was a good sport about it. “My sister would be proud I’m even making an attempt.”
Hannah had never thought of her having a sister. She’d always been Amber, her boss. She was learning that even bosses had family and doubts and fears. Amber shared some of those as they walked out to her little car an hour later.
“I’m afraid I’m avoiding work because I’m a little overwhelmed at the moment. I feel as if I should be doing something about Ethan, but I don’t know what. I was hoping an hour away might clear my mind.”
“Today was his funeral. I’m surprised you didn’t go.”
Amber shrugged. “I attended the viewing last night.”
“And?”
“And I only came away with more questions.”
Amber stared at Hannah, wondering how much she should share. She had already taken a ninety-minute lunch, and she should be getting back. But something told her that Hannah was a person she could trust. The girl was much older, much more mature, than her years.
“To begin with, Margaret, Ethan’s wife, was quite hostile.”
“Toward you?”
“Yes.”
Hannah didn’t answer immediately, instead she walked over to a maple tree that was resplendent in new leaves.
“Perhaps she doesn’t know what to do with her sorrow, with her loss, so she struck out at you.”
“That’s possible, but it felt . . . more personal.”
“It’s hard to not take such things personally.”
“Then there was his sister, Patricia.” Amber folded her arms, again hugging herself. It wasn’t cold outside, but she suddenly felt as if all the warmth had fled the April afternoon. “Something’s not right about Patricia. She’s what we used to call . . . special.”
Hannah ran her fingers down the strings of her kapp. “Special in what way?”
“I wouldn’t say that she is learning disabled, but perhaps emotionally disabled. Something’s off. There was a real scene at the viewing last night as I tried to speak with Margaret and offer my condolences. I suppose it left me out of sorts.”
“Funerals can be difficult—even Amish funerals. We’re supposed to accept everything as Gotte’s wille, and we try to do that.” Hannah pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There are times though when that isn’t so easy. At those moments, people sometimes say and do things they regret.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe Ethan’s family has regrets they don’t know how to deal with. I suppose every family does.”
As they walked to Amber’s car and she opened the door, they talked again about the recent vandalism at the Village.
“Do you think it could be someone who is Amish?” Amber asked the question gently. “It’s not something I can imagine, but you know your community better than I do.”
“I don’t know. Ethan certainly had trouble with some of the teenage boys, both Amish and Englisch, but I can’t think of any Amish I know who are angry enough to do such a thing.”
“If the culprit isn’t Amish, then they’re Englisch. I suppose we’ll have to depend on Officer Avery to catch them.”
“Do you trust him? Officer Avery?”
“Of course. I mean, he seems efficient and he’s a good person.” For some reason Amber felt the need to defend him—whether to Hannah or to herself, she wasn’t sure.
“We try to limit involvement with the authorities.”
“Why?”
“My parents say it’s best to solve things ourselves, that we know each other, what everyone is capable of, and how to handle it better than any outsider.”
“I suppose. I don’t know that Gordon Avery is an outsider, though he’s never really synced with the community here in Middlebury either. Maybe it’s because he’s an officer. Perhaps he can do his job better if he maintains a certain distance.”
Hannah stood near the porch, waving at Amber as she backed down the lane.
As she made her way toward the Village, she realized that Hannah was someone she could be friends with. She was certainly a good person to bounce questions off of, and she had a mature perspective on both the Amish and Englisch sides of the community. The question was whether or not—together—they could bring anything to the investigation. Could they help Gordon Avery in any way? Or should they sit back and allow the law to do its work?
All were questions that circled in Amber’s mind as she found her way back to the Village, hoping and praying they’d seen their last instance of vandalism.
Fifteen
Hannah was grateful it was Friday. She’d finally found a rhythm in her new job, but the work was more exhausting than she would have expected. Her days off were scheduled for Sunday and Monday. Make it through today, show up early tomorrow, and she’d have two days to rest.
All of the shops were closed on Sunday—everything except the inn and the restaurant. Even the conference center was rarely used on Sundays.
Ethan had kept the shop open on Mondays, though he didn’t clock in the hours, and he left earlier than on other days. He had an agreement with Amber in that he shared in a percentage of the profits from his shop. Profits! The idea was something Hannah had never actually considered. She was managing A Simple Blend on a trial basis. If things went well, Amber had said she’d be offered the job permanently. At that point, she, too, would receive a percentage of what the shop earned.
Hannah tried not to focus on that. She knew the extra income would help her family, but she didn’t want to count on what was not certain. Best to be grateful for what she had at the moment.
And she had a very good job with two days off a week. Amber never asked Amish employees to work on Sunday. They would have declined, but Hannah knew it was one of the things everyone respected about their manager. She understood and respected their practice of never working on the Sabbath. And Amber had explained to Hannah that Ethan’s sales were relatively low on Monday, and there was no need for her to work the extra day. Perhaps after they had adequately trained Seth, he could work on Monday when Hannah was off.
Hannah had taken her lunch bag to a bench on the other side of the pond and enjoyed a snack as she watched the guests amble about. For a moment, she had let all of her worries fall away. Now she strolled back toward the shop, basking in the sunshine of the spring morning, and murmured a prayer that Seth had managed to stay out of trouble.
Then she opened the door to the shop.
Seth stood behind
the counter. The gray wool cap he always wore, identical to the type all the Amish boys wore, was tilted at an odd angle. His smock, which he’d had on no more than twenty minutes, was stained with coffee and whipped cream. An Englisch customer, a young mother, was waiting on her order. She held on to a little girl’s hand. Both the mother and little girl watched Hannah as she hurried to the register.
Hannah noticed coffee beans had spewed from the grinder and were covering the counter.
“How did you make this big of a mess in such a short time?” She kept her voice lowered, but the customer heard her.
“He had an accident with the whipped cream.”
“I did.” Seth slowly moved his gaze up to the ceiling.
Hannah willed herself not to look, but her eyes crept upward. Whipped cream dotted the ceiling tiles.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I was shaking the can and I guess my finger hit the trigger by mistake.”
Closing her eyes, Hannah counted slowly to three. Then she directed her attention to the customer.
“You’re waiting on your order?”
“Yes, I saw your ‘New & Tasty’ sign outside and thought a raspberry latte sounded wonderful.”
“I’ll have that right up for you.” Hannah turned to retrieve the raspberry syrup from the counter behind them. “Start cleaning,” she hissed to Seth.
“Only half the espresso, please.” The customer smiled broadly when Hannah turned back toward her. “I’m trying to cut down on my caffeine consumption.”
“Ya. Lots of people are.” Hannah pulled the single shot of espresso and combined it with one ounce of raspberry. “Did you want to drink this here or—”
“To go. I thought I’d take Belinda outside and let her play.”
“The weather is perfect,” Hannah agreed. She poured the shot and syrup into one of their to-go cups and then filled the rest of the cup with steamed milk, topping it off with a half inch of foam. She covered the entire thing with a light dusting of red sugar to give it a raspberry look.
After she accepted the woman’s money, she reached into the bakery display and pulled out a sugar cookie with bright sprinkles. “I appreciate your waiting for your order, and I’d like to give this to your daughter.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“But I’d like to, if you don’t mind.”
“Belinda loves cookies.”
The little girl with long red hair looked to her mother, waiting for permission.
“I’m sure one won’t ruin her appetite for lunch.”
When her mother nodded, the girl clapped her hands and grinned as she accepted the cookie. She was probably a year older than Hannah’s sister, Mattie.
The woman walked slowly as the little girl toddled beside her, out of the shop and around the walkway that circled the pond. Hannah wanted to stand and watch the pleasant spring scene. She wanted to follow the woman back outside! Instead she crossed her arms and turned to Seth.
“What were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry, Hannah.” Seth held up both hands, palms out.
“I told you no specialty drinks. You’re to tell the customers to come back.”
“Ya, but she sounded so pleased when she read about today’s special.”
“Look at our ceiling.”
“I’ll grab the ladder I saw in the storeroom.” Seth smiled at her impishly.
As much as she wanted to be angry with him, it was difficult. He had arrived on time each day and always worked with such a pleasant attitude, even if he was a walking disaster.
“Hurry. Before it dries.” She turned her attention to cleaning up the espresso beans. Had he forgotten to put the lid on the machine again? Shaking her head in wonder, she ran a clean dish towel along the counter, scooping the mess into the trash can.
Seth returned, climbed the ladder, and began wiping the goo from the ceiling. It was good he was so tall, nearly six feet, if Hannah guessed correctly. She never would have been able to reach the mess on the ceiling, but Seth was having no problem.
Another customer came in, this one requesting hot tea. Their tea selection was woefully slim, but she recited what they offered and then began to fill the older woman’s order. After the woman had paid, Hannah jotted a quick note on the pad she kept by the register. She’d seen a nice selection of variety teas in the catalog. Ethan had never ordered any of them, but she was in charge now. The thought cheered her even more, helping to ease the stress of Seth’s mishap.
Seth returned the ladder to the back room and proceeded to sign out on the time sheet she kept on the wall beside the register. As he took a pen out of the cup near the register, his elbow bumped the stack of Village fliers and sent them cascading across the floor.
“I’ve got that. Sorry. I’ll put them back exactly like you had them.”
Hannah pressed a hand against the counter and stared at him. She’d never met someone who was so clumsy.
“Seth.”
“Nearly done—” He was kneeling on the floor, gathering the fliers into a stack.
“Listen to me.”
“Sure, Hannah. I always listen. You’re a gut boss, and I want to learn from you.”
“Seth.”
Finally he was finished restacking the fliers. “Yes?”
“Sit down. I need to talk to you.”
His customary smile dropped and his eyes widened. “You’re not firing me, are you? Because I need this job.”
“Let’s sit at the table by the window. Perhaps we’ll have an uninterrupted moment.”
Seth ducked his head and followed her to the table. He looked for all the world like one of her brother Noah’s pups after he’d been caught making a mess of something.
Hannah allowed the peace and the calm of the shop to settle around them. A hymn played softly over the speakers. Sunshine splashed through the window. The air was rich with the smell of coffee. She prayed for wisdom and then began to question Seth.
“Are you always this clumsy?”
“Yes.”
“Have you tried to change?”
“I’m real sorry, Hannah—”
“That’s not what I asked you. Have you tried to be less of a disaster?” The words sounded harsh even to her ears, but she knew it was time someone had a talk with Seth. Better her than Amber. The boy didn’t look as if he was used to straight talk, especially from a woman.
“Um, what do you mean?”
Hannah tapped her fingers against the tabletop. “Seth, you need to move slower. Before you do something, like shake whipped cream, stop and think what could happen. Point it in the sink if you think it might explode.”
“Ya, that’s a gut idea.” His words were mumbled to the tabletop.
“Look at me, Seth.”
“Are you going to fire me?”
This time she saw real fear in his eyes, and something in her heart twisted.
“I need this job. I’m the oldest. My mamm—she is worn completely out with my little schweschders.”
“You have six?”
“Ya. They’re smart little girls too.”
“What of your dat?” Hannah saw the Kauffman family at church. The mother always seemed exhausted, and the father struck her as a bit grim.
“Dat’s doing his best. He tried to get on at the factory during the winter, but they weren’t hiring. And his crops, they didn’t bring in enough last year. He works hard though, and we’ll be fine. It’s only that I need to help as much as I can.”
“So there’s a lot of pressure on you.”
“Nein. I like to work.” Seth’s smile returned, then vanished. “You’re not firing me, are you, Hannah?”
“No, I am not.” When Seth nearly bounded out of his chair, she raised a hand to stop him. “However, I’m going to give you an assignment.”
“Assignment? Like at school?”
“Sort of like that.” Hannah couldn’t help smiling at the look of dismay on his face.
“School wasn’t my favorite place,” S
eth admitted.
“Here’s what I want. Every time you have an accident here in the shop or even outside the shop—any accident that is related to your work—I want you to write out one page explaining what happened before, during, and after.”
“Write it?”
“I think this will help you to see what’s causing the disasters.”
“It’s not like it happens every day,” Seth argued.
“The bakery?”
“Yes, but—”
“Remember when you dumped packets of sugar all over the floor?”
“I cleaned them up.”
“You also filled the milk canister with chocolate syrup.”
“An honest mistake.”
“And today . . .” Hannah waved at the serving area. No need to rehash what had happened today.
“Do I have to write about all those things?”
“Let’s stick with what happened today.”
Seth sighed, and his familiar smile returned. “Sure, Hannah. If you think it will help.”
“It can’t hurt.”
Seth stood and walked back behind the counter. He slowly and methodically removed his apron, then hung it on the hook behind the counter. He moved as if he suddenly suspected mishaps were stalking him and might appear at any moment.
“Hannah, do you think Ethan also had accidents? Do you think that’s why he kept the box of carpenter supplies?”
“Carpenter supplies?”
“Ya. I saw them in the back room when I returned the ladder.”
“What are you talking about, Seth? Ethan never did any carpentry work that I know of. He swept the walk out front, but that was about it.”
“There are brushes, a smock, a can of paint—”
Hannah’s pulse jumped, and she heard a strange ringing in her ears. “Seth, is this something you saw?”
“I just said that.” Now he was staring at her oddly. “I saw them in the back corner of the supply room. I nearly tripped over the box when I was returning the ladder. Maybe I should write about tripping, even though I didn’t. That could have been a disaster, especially if—”
But Hannah wasn’t listening. She was already halfway to the supply room as Seth continued talking. If Seth was describing what she feared he was describing, she needed to tell Amber. But first she should check it out. First she should be sure.
Murder Simply Brewed Page 13
