“Denke for helping me with the baking Maureen. I’d never have gotten it all done by myself. And with Wilhelm and Grace’s wedding tomorrow, I just couldn’t delay it any longer. Maybe I shouldn’t have committed myself to do so much of the baking,” Emma said. “But, I did want to use my new kitchen.”
“I’m not working today, so I’m pleased to help. In weather like this, I like to stay close to the oven.”
“Jah, I know what you mean. It has been cold.” Emma fetched some more eggs out of the cold-box.
“Their wedding is the last of the season isn’t it?” Maureen asked.
“Jah.” Emma beat some eggs with her whisk. “Wilhelm and Grace seem so young to get married, don’t you think? I can barely remember when I was that young.”
“They’re both nineteen. How old were you when you got married?”
“I was twenty one the first time and I guess that’s old,” Emma gave a little giggle.
“I was nineteen when I married Paul.”
“Well, it just seems young. I thought I was very grown up and mature way before I married Levi, but now when I look back, I realize how very young I was.”
Maureen rolled out her lump of dough, in preparation to make a pastry crust. “When are Wilhelm and Grace moving into your old haus?”
“They’ve already moved some things into it, and they’re taking two weeks to go visiting after they’re married and then they said they were going to move in after that.”
“You okay, about someone else living in the haus that Levi built for you? I know you felt funny about someone living there before.”
“I’m over that now, Maureen. I know Levi would be happy that someone was enjoying the home as much as we had. I’ve moved on from how I felt a few months ago. Did you talk to Bob about his paintings?”
“Jah, I told him what Bailey planned. He said he’d sell them in the art auction. I’ve told Bailey that, and he was pleased and he’s going over to speak to him today.”
“Bob will come into a lot of money when his paintings sell at the auction. What do you think he’d do with it all?”
“I think he might do something useful with it. He’s very kindhearted.”
Emma nodded. “That’s good. How much did you tell him of what’s going on?”
“I told him the truth. Bailey is trying to catch a thief by slipping in a stolen painting with Bob’s real paintings and that Bob’s name won’t be used. Bob did say he did not need to know the rest.” Maureen laughed a little. “It seems he doesn’t like a lot of chatter.”
“Has Bob ever had a girlfriend that you know of?” Emma knew the answer, but that was her way of pointing out to Maureen that no other woman had ever found Bob appealing.
Maureen was quiet for a while before she said, “I don’t think he has.”
“And do you think he likes you?” Emma asked.
“Jah, he does. He likes me, but he doesn’t really know what to do about it. We’ve been on a couple of buggy rides.” Maureen concentrated on rolling her pastry.
Emma stirred in some more flour into the bowl. “You like him?”
“I like him a little, but that’s not really a gut start is it? And I know that you don’t like him; that’s easy to see.”
“It’s not that I don’t like him; it’s just that he’s so quiet, and there just seems something not quite right about him.” Emma did not want Maureen and Bob to court or get married to one another. Emma considered that Bob Pluver was far too quiet and there was something she did not like about him. Maureen was right when she said that Emma did not like him, but Emma did not want to admit that she did not like someone. “See how things go and maybe someone else will show up.”
“It would be nice to have someone to go home to,” Maureen said.
“It’s also peaceful to be on your own.” Emma laughed.
Maureen looked up from her pastry and shook her wooden rolling pin at Emma. “It’s only the married women who say things like that. It’s lonely being on your own and having no one to share things with.”
Emma smiled and knew that it was true. When Levi died leaving Emma alone, there were times when she craved the attention of a man, but there were positives and negatives in every situation. On the one hand, there was the peace and quiet that only solitude can offer and then there were times when you crave the companionship of another.
* * *
Wilhelm and Grace’s wedding was held at Grace’s parents’ haus. Since Bailey was invited, and Marvin’s paints had not arrived, Bailey thought Marvin could use a little Amish education.
Marvin sat on the wooden bench seat next to Bailey. Before the service began he turned to Bailey and whispered, “I bet not many people get to see a real Amish wedding.”
“Well, enjoy it because once your painting gear arrives you’ll be doing nothing but paint. Oh, and by the way, we sit separately and we’ll also be eating at a separate table. We’re ‘Englischers’ and being unbelievers, the Amish aren’t supposed to eat with us at the same table.” Bailey thought it best to explain a few of the rules to him.
Marvin nodded. “We can talk to people though, can’t we?”
Bailey answered, “Yes, but you’re a friend of mine. You can’t tell anyone who you are or why you’re in Lancaster County.”
Marvin rolled his eyes and straightened the tie that he’d borrowed from Bailey. “I figured that much out for meself.”
Bailey turned back to look at him. “Pays to be sure. And another thing, the bishop or one of the ministers is about to deliver a lengthy sermon.”
Marvin scowled. “How long?”
“Hour, hour and a half.” Bailey couldn’t help but smile when he saw the look on Marvin’s face.
“Wish you could’ve told me that. I would’ve stayed behind.”
Bailey shook his head. “Not possible, Peters is having a day off.”
Marvin shrugged his shoulders. “Is that why you invited me? I can be trusted to stay by meself ya know.”
“Can’t risk it.”
Marvin’s mouth turned down into a scowl. When the bride appeared down the stairs moments later, Marvin leaned toward Bailey and whispered, “Is that the bride?”
Bailey nodded.
“She’s just wearing normal everyday clothes,” Marvin said.
“Amish don’t wear white for their weddings or anything fancy. It would’ve been specially made for today. It just looks normal to us, but it’s blue, and it’s only the married women who wear blue dresses.”
Marvin’s eyes swept over the crowd.
After a long sermon, the bishop pronounced Wilhelm and Grace to be mann and fraa.
Bailey leaned toward Marvin and whispered, “They don’t have wedding rings either.”
“How do other people know they’re married then?”
“For one, the married men grow a beard.”
“Ahh.” Marvin’s eyes swept over the crowd once more.
After two hymns were sung, everyone stood and moved out of the way so the trestle tables could be arranged for the wedding feast.
“That was the longest thing I’ve ever sat through. I went to church once when I was a youngster, and I swore I’d never go back again.”
Bailey chuckled.
“So this Silvie girl whose hangin’ ‘round all the time making goo goo eyes at you, you’re sweet on her?”
“You ask too many questions, Marvin. But since it’s a happy day and we’re at a wedding, I can tell you that I will marry that girl one day.”
Marvin smiled and scratched his head. “She’s pretty, but are you going to take ‘er away from her way of life?”
Bailey preferred to keep his personal life and his business life separate; he’d never mixed the two before and he was not going to start now. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Aw, come on. You know everything about me. Or do you think I’m just a criminal because I painted a few paintings to feed my family, to try and give them a better life? Do you think you’re so different from
me? The bishop just said that all have sinned and fallen short.” Without waiting for a reply Marvin walked towards the drink refreshments table.
Bailey’s heart was moved by Marvin’s words, or rather, by God’s words. Marvin was right; Bailey did think he was better than a criminal. Bailey had always stayed on the right side of the law, but did that give him the right to judge others and to feel superior? To Bailey there had always been two groups of people, law-abiding citizens and criminals, but in God’s eyes all people were the same – there were none righteous. Who was he to put himself above another man?
Bailey walked up, got himself a soda and stood close to Marvin and said, “I’m going to quit what I’m doing and I’m going to join the Amish. This is my last job, my job with you and the paintings.”
Marvin faced Bailey, his face beaming. “Well, I’ll drink to that.” He raised his soda in the air and took a mouthful. When he was finished he said, “Thank you for telling me; you seem a decent sort of person for a policeman.”
Bailey chuckled and stopped himself before he corrected him. He was not a policeman; he was an FBI agent, but there was likely no difference to Marvin.
Marvin looked at the crowd. “They’re an agreeable lot of folk from what I’ve seen. Maureen’s got a good heart. I’ve had some talks with her when she brings the meals over, and she’s tried to help me sort myself out.”
Bailey took a mouthful of lemon soda. “They’re all nice. My grandfather was born Amish, and my two aunts are still in this community.” He pointed to Elsa-May and Ettie, who were helping lay out the food on the tables. “Those two old dears over there.”
Marvin looked at the elderly ladies and then looked back at Bailey. “You’re lucky then. You’ve got a ready made family even before you marry that pretty girl of yours.”
“Blessed, not lucky,” Bailey said with a gleam in his eye.
Marvin scoffed. “Each to his own beliefs. Page, my wife, wanted me to go to church with her. I refused, and she didn’t go by herself.”
“Go with her. It just might change your life and the life of your children.”
“I just might,” Marvin said before he took another mouthful of creamy soda. “I don’t want my kids following in my footsteps and getting on the wrong side of the law. I want something better for ‘em.”
Bailey put a hand on Marvin’s shoulder. “You’ve got a second chance now, Marvin, use it.”
Marvin looked into the distance.
Chapter 7.
For whom the Lord loveth he correcteth;
even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.
Proverbs 3:12
Bailey was at the next widows’ meeting when he shared the following information. “They won’t authorize me to put a maid at Richard Starks’ house.”
“Why not?” Elsa-May asked.
“Too much man power and too much money has already been spent, they said.”
Emma could see the disappointment in Bailey’s face. He’d worked so hard for so many years, and now he was so close.
Elsa-May’s jaw dropped. “But, they’ve given that Marvin man a deal for helping you and then they’re not going to carry through with things?”
Bailey blew out a heavy sigh. “Yup, seems so.”
“One of us will have to do it then,” Silvie said looking at the other widows.
“I’ll do it,” Emma said before she properly thought it through.
Bailey shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea that any of you do it.”
“You need someone in there, don’t you?” Emma desperately wanted to help Bailey so he could settle down and be happy with Silvie.
“It would be good if we had someone in there, but I don’t want to put anyone in danger. No, we can do it without someone in there.”
Emma saw the look of concern on Silvie’s face; her smooth forehead was furrowed with worry lines. Emma took a mouthful of hot kaffe and when no one else spoke she said, “Bailey, look at it this way, I’m going to get a job soon and what if I’d applied for a job and went to work for this Mr. Starks not knowing who he was? I could work for anyone not knowing if they were a criminal or not and not knowing what they were involved in.”
Bailey raised his eyebrows.
Ettie said, “Emma’s sensible, she won’t put herself into danger.”
“I don’t know. Are you sure you want to do this, Emma?” Bailey asked.
Emma nodded. She was sure, but she was not too sure how Wil would take the news. She knew that he would not forbid her to do it if she really wanted to, but he might not be happy about it.
“Nee, I should be the one to do it,” Silvie said.
Bailey frowned at Silvie.
“Nee, Silvie,” Emma said. You’ve got your job to go to, and I don’t have a job at the moment. I’m really the obvious choice.”
The widows all murmured in agreement. After all Emma knew she was right; Elsa-May and Ettie were far too old, and both Silvie and Maureen depended on the income they got from their part-time jobs.
Bailey clapped his hands together. “Okay, that’s settled. Thank you, Emma.”
Emma smiled at Bailey, but inside she had butterflies in her tummy at the thought of pretending to be someone who she was not. She had never liked to deceive people, and she was glad that it was only going to be this one time. She did not know how undercover agents could do it on a regular basis. “You’ll have to tell me everything I have to do. I’ve never been a maid before; I need to know how to act and what to do.”
Bailey nodded. “I’ll arrange for the agency to give you a rundown of all that. I’ve already found the employment agency Starks gets his staff through. I’ll arrange for the current maid to be taken out and you, Emma, to be put in.”
Bailey ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “I’ll give you a small camera, which will look like part of your apron. Snap anything that looks suspicious and take photos of all the paintings. Not that I’d expect that he’d have anything stolen on display; he’s not that stupid. Your name will be Tracey Cook. I’ll see that you get a maid’s uniform. You can’t wear your Amish clothes.”
Emma nodded and set about memorizing her new name. Then she took another mouthful of kaffe wondering how to break the news to Wil.
Chapter 8.
Righteous lips are the delight of kings;
and they love him that speaketh right.
Proverbs 16:13
Emma, masquerading as Tracey Cook, walked up the long driveway to the home of Richard Starks after announcing herself at the intercom beside the two large wrought iron gates. She stopped outside and stared up at the mansion. It appeared stark and unwelcoming. Emma shrugged off her impression, after all, how could a house be unwelcoming? It was unlike other houses in the area and was built over a twelve-acre allotment, according to Bailey.
When Emma offered to go undercover as a maid, she never dreamed that she was going to be in such a grand home; no, it was more than a home, it was a mansion. By the size of the home, she knew that it would take more than one full-time worker to keep the place clean. Surely, one person would not be expected to do all that by themselves? Bailey had not mentioned that there would be other maids. She had assumed she would be the only one.
Keeping on top of the cleaning was the least of her worries; she was there to observe goings on and nothing else. Bailey’s voice rang in her ears. Emma wondered how Bailey had kept the previous maid away and how he got the Maid agency to install her. No doubt, when people know that they are dealing with the FBI they do everything they can to cooperate.
Emma wondered if Bailey was right; did Richard Starks really have all those valuable paintings stolen? What if Bailey was on the wrong track again like the time he thought that old Frank and his father had stolen paintings just because their move from Chicago to Pennsylvania was mirrored by stolen paintings, which had surfaced. What if Richard Starks was also innocent? Emma remembered how confident Bailey was that Richard Starks was the man behind the h
uge art theft of 1990.
She waited at the front door assuming that there would be someone to greet her since she already announced herself via the intercom at the front gates. Emma waited for a moment in front of the two large wooden doors. She studied the doors; they must have been twelve foot tall and looked as if they had originally belonged to another building, a much older building. After a moment, Emma noticed there was a buzzer to the side of the ancient looking doors. She pushed the buzzer and waited some more.
Suddenly one of the doors opened and a man dressed in a business suit with a briefcase in his hand looked her up and down. “Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t know, but the servants’ entrance is around the back. It’s about time you showed up. I’ve been waiting for an hour.”
Emma noticed that his voice was as polished as his exterior. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his black leather shoes shone like no other shoes she had ever seen. He was short, clean-shaven, and balding on top, with long strands of hair combed over his bald patch in an attempt to cover it. His skin looked smooth and soft except for deep worry lines etched between fine dark eyebrows.
“I…I’m sorry; this was the time I was told to come here.” Emma cleared her throat when she realized that arguing with her new boss was hardly a good start. “Where do I go?”
“Around the back, but just come in this way for today. It’s alright; you weren’t to know.” A smile appeared on his face, as he looked Emma up and down once more. “You don’t look like a maid.”
Emma opened her mouth to speak, but she had no idea how she should reply. She looked down at what she was wearing. She did not know what a maid was supposed to look like, but Bailey should know, and it was he who had given her the clothes to wear. She looked back up at him and shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter. Come inside.” He stepped aside for Emma to enter. “I do have a butler, Mr. Brighton, but he’s away today. He’ll be back tomorrow, and he can show you what you need to do. The maid I had just left. The agency suggested you. You won’t let me down, will you?”
“Of course not.” Emma looked down at his shiny brown leather briefcase. “Are you off to work?”
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