A Churn for the Worse (11 page)

One glance at the line snaking its way up to the counter and Claire knew her chances of reaching the register and the hot chocolate she'd been craving since her feet hit the ground were slim. Still, she had to try.

Taking her place behind fellow shopkeeper Drew Styles, she allowed herself a moment to inhale the aroma wafting from the mugs of those customers who'd planned their morning better than she had.

“Ahhh, yes, the pitfalls of hitting that snooze button one too many times.”

She opened her eyes to find Drew studying her with the same amusement she'd heard in his voice. “You say that as if you've done it yourself a time or two.”

“I'm only one person in front of you, aren't I?” Drew joked. He let his eyes drift back to the front of the line long enough to shake his head in disgust at himself. “And
Sunday morning is not the time to gamble with the caffeine boost.”

And he was right. Just as Claire employed Annie to help at Heavenly Treasures, Drew's second pair of hands around Glorious Books belonged to an Amish teenager as well—an Amish teenager who joined the rest of her Amish brethren in a day of worship or rest each and every Sunday.

“I tried to get up,” she said. “I really did. But my bed seemed more comfortable than normal this morning.”

“They always do on Sunday mornings, don't they, Al?”

At the mention of her landlord's name, Claire turned to see the owner of Gussman General Store ambling toward them, his still-tired eyes following the line up to the counter and back before settling on his wristwatch. “Ohhh . . . this isn't looking good.”

“Good morning, Al,” she said. “One too many snooze buttons for you, too?”

He flashed a quick smile at Claire just before it morphed into a yawn and disappeared behind his hand. “Oh. Wow. Excuse me. I didn't get much sleep last night. Too worried about the recommendations this Jim Naber is making to the council.”

Drew stepped forward with the line and then turned back to Claire and Al. “I'm not familiar with that name.”

“Jim Naber. He's the consultant the mayor was telling us about at the last business owners' meeting, remember?” Al replied. “The one who was hired to come up with ways to help increase the town's tourism revenue . . .”

“He's staying at the inn,” Claire added, as much for Al as for Drew. “Nice enough man.”

“You mean misguided—
grossly
misguided, to be even
more accurate.” Al surveyed the dining area to their left and right and then stepped closer to the pair, dropping his voice to a near whisper as he did. “This guy thinks we need to attract someone who is looking to set up a bar in that vacant storefront next to the police station.”

Drew stepped back as if he'd been slapped. “A bar?”

Again, Al moved forward. “Keep your voice down. I, for one, don't want any of the tourists in here getting wind of the fact Heavenly is even thinking of going that route. That gets out prematurely, and we'll disappear from every senior citizen travel blog out there.”

“But a bar? On Lighted Way? Is this—this Naber guy
blind
or something?”

Claire motioned for Drew to move forward as a second barista opened another register and the line magically, mercifully, split. “He was hired to make recommendations. One of his recommendations is to target a younger demographic—a demographic who will want and need the kind of nightlife options we don't have in Heavenly at the present time.”

“You think this is a good idea?” Drew asked.

“No. Of course not. But he's doing what he was hired to do.”

“I would imagine Diane has argued the ludicrousness of this idea with this man, yes?” Al claimed the left line as Drew and Claire took the right.

“She's expressed her opinion, sure. But this man
is
her guest, too. She'll save her stronger protest for the mayor.”

Al rubbed at his stubbled chin and then folded his arms across his broad chest. “Maybe what we need to do is sit
down with the mayor as a group. Let him know that we think this idea is detrimental to everything that has made this town the draw that it is.”

“Count me in,” Drew said.

Claire nodded. “Me, too.”

“My son is coming in to help at the store today. Maybe, if there's a lull in traffic at any point, I'll start making the rounds of everyone. To make sure they're all on board with this and to find a time that everyone can descend on the mayor's office this coming week—the sooner the better, if you ask me.”

A quick jingle was followed by another as Howard Glick and Jakob entered the coffee shop within seconds of each other.

“
Howard
.” Al nodded. “
Detective
.”

The plump and bald proprietor of Glick's Tools 'n More veered toward Claire's line but changed course at the last minute and waved Jakob into that spot instead. “I imagine you'd like to stand with your girl, Detective.”

“I would indeed. Thank you, Howard.” Jakob slid his arm around Claire's back and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “I swung by the shop just now. When I didn't see you inside, I figured maybe you'd be here.”

She nestled her face against his shoulder and used the strength and warmth she found there as the boost she needed. “For a while there, it was looking as if a morning jolt wasn't in any of our futures,” she said, gesturing toward Drew in front of her and Al beside her. “But then they put another girl at the registers.”

A flurry of movement in front of Drew put Claire and
Jakob second in line for their drinks. While Drew placed his order, Howard rocked back on his heels. “So who's ready to work like a dog today?”

“The day-trip bus is expected to arrive at noon,” Al said. “My son is coming in at eleven thirty. So I'll be more than ready.”

“Rub it in, why don't you?” Howard's laugh reached beyond the confines of their respective lines and earned him a few returning smiles from around the dining room. If he saw the smiles, he didn't let on, his focus still on the conversation at hand. “Every once in a while I think about hiring non-Amish, but then I remember how hard they work and I don't.”

“You could always hire a Sunday-only employee,” Claire suggested.

Howard followed behind Al as their line lurched forward. “My wife says that every Saturday evening when I'm moaning about the next day's workload. One of these days I probably should listen to the woman.” He leaned across the gap between lines and pointed from Jakob to Claire and back again. “Here's some free advice for you, son. Don't wait so long to listen to this pretty lady right here. Otherwise you'll be old like me and knowin' you should listen, but too set in your ways to actually do it.”

Jakob's laugh rumbled against her ear. “I'll keep that in mind, Howard, thank you.”

“So who's hosting church this morning?” Al glanced up at the menu behind the counter as the person directly in front of him placed her order. “Anyone know?”

“The bishop is in his other district today.” Jakob dropped his hand from Claire's shoulder to the small of her back and
guided her into the spot Drew had just vacated. To the petite barista behind the register he said, “We'll take one large hot chocolate and one large coffee. Black.”

Claire looked up at Jakob, her internal antennae instantly raised. “
Black?
Is everything okay?”

When the girl left to fill their order, he raked a hand through his hair and shrugged. “I talked to Luke last night.”

“Luke?”

“Gingerich. Rebecca's father.” Jakob reached into his back pocket, extracted his wallet, and handed the returning barista a ten-dollar bill. She gave him his change and the cups, and then turned her attention to Howard, who'd slipped into the empty spot behind them.

“So you were right on the family she belonged to?”

“I was.”

“Well, good. I'm glad her father talked to you.”

“Thanks to Ben, anyway.” He motioned toward the front door and the workday that was now just minutes away from starting.

“Ben went with you?”

“Not at first, he didn't. But when Luke refused to talk to me, I went and got Ben. With Ben's help, Luke was finally willing to listen.”

She bit back the frustration that always accompanied news of the cold shoulder imparted on Jakob by his former community and instead focused on the topic at hand. “Did he confirm money was missing? Did he see the man that Rebecca mentioned? Did he let Rebecca talk to you? Is she going to sit down with the sketch artist the way Henry did?”

They stepped onto the sidewalk outside the coffee shop and turned left into the path of the sun. “Yes. No. Yes. No.”

She lowered her to-go cup and ducked her head. “Okay. That was a lot of questions at one time. Sorry about that.”

“No worries. I followed them.”

“I kind of forgot the order in which I asked them . . .”

He laughed. “Okay. Luke did, in fact, confirm that money was missing from the home. He was out in the fields at the time this man stopped by, so he didn't see anyone. He permitted Rebecca to speak to me. And no, she's not going to sit with a sketch artist.”

When they reached the alley between Heavenly Treasures and Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe, she turned left. “But why not? I mean, if it helps you do your job, how can she not?” She reached her free hand into her purse and pulled out her key ring, her fingers instinctively finding the correct key and unlocking the back door.

Once inside, they parted ways—Claire toward the front door and Jakob to the main room's light switch. “I showed her the picture that was done with Henry.”

“But it was lacking any real detail, wasn't it?” She flipped the window sign to its open designation and unlocked the front door.

“I was hoping she could add some, maybe dispute others.”

“And?” she asked as she met him in the middle of the store.

“She took one look at the dark-haired Englisher and said, ‘That's him.'” Jakob lifted his cup as if readying for a sip, but didn't take it. “I suggested she sit with the same person who drew Henry's picture and see if she could add
anything. At first she didn't seem to understand, so I mentioned things like freckles, or bushy eyebrows, or a narrow jaw. When I finished, she just looked at the picture and said there was nothing else.”

“How frustrating!”

“Tell me about it.” He took a long pull of his coffee and then peeked over her shoulder toward the front window. “Think I could get another kiss before this place starts filling up with customers?”

She grinned and obliged. After a few moments, they reluctantly parted ways. “So what are your plans for the day?” she asked, wishing with everything she had that they could spend the day together.

“Well, I'm hoping that invitation to dinner at your place is still on. I've been dreaming about your aunt's shepherd pie all weekend . . .”

“Oh, that invitation still stands. In fact, when I was heading out this morning, Diane was asking me whether she should make her special homemade biscuits to go with it.”

His eyes widened across the top of his to-go cup. “And? What did you tell her?”

“I told her no.” She tried not to think about kissing him again as his mouth gaped open, and instead, gave him her best wink. “I'm kidding. I'm kidding.”

“Give a guy a heart attack, why don't you,” he said as he pulled her in for yet another hug. “Sheesh.”

“And before that? Any special plans I can live vicariously through you while I'm chatting up customers and hopefully restocking the shelves they empty?”

His chin bobbed atop her head. “I'm going to whiteboard
what I've got from the Stutzman farm and this thing at Gingerich's place. See if something jumps out.”

“I wish I could help.” Then, realizing how her words sounded, she began to backpedal. “Not because I think you need me but because I find that to be kind of fun.”

“I
do
need you, your help has proved
invaluable
in the past, and doing
anything
with you instantly makes whatever it is more fun. Including work.” He pressed his lips to her temple and held them there for a long moment. “I've gotta find this guy, Claire. One way or the other.”

She felt him studying her as she moved around the now-empty table collecting dirty dessert plates and coffee cups.

“Would you like anything else?” Claire asked over the stack of plates. “Another piece of pie? More coffee?”

Jakob shook his head and forced a smile to his lips. “No, I'm good. Thank you, though.”

“Then I'll be back in a few minutes.”

“Wait.” He pushed his chair back from the table and gathered up the half-dozen or so spoons and forks to his left and his right and then held out his arms. “Let me carry that stuff, Claire.”

“I've got it, Jakob. Please. Sit. You're my guest. Guests don't have to help clean up from all the other guests.”

He glanced down at the utensils in his hand and then
back up at Claire. “You do realize I don't want to be just a guest.”

Something about the detective's voice sent off a wave of unease that started in her chest and rolled out to her limbs. “Jakob, I . . . I didn't mean to imply you're something less than you are to me. I just want to take care of this stuff as I would on any other given night, and then get back out here so you and I can resume our evening together. With fewer people this go-round.”

“I don't want to be anyone's consolation prize, Claire. Especially when you deserve your top choice in everything that matters in life.”

As if propelled by some sort of autopilot button, Claire made her way back to the table and the chair she'd inhabited throughout her aunt's traditional Sunday night dinner. Setting the stack of plates and smattering of mugs back atop the tablecloth, she sat and motioned for Jakob to do the same.

He did, reluctantly.

“Is this why you were so quiet all through dinner? Because you're doubting the way I feel about you?”

“No . . . Yes . . .” He deposited the utensils onto the top plate in the stack and then raked his fingers through his hair. “I sound like an idiot, don't I?”

“No. But I just don't understand where this is coming from. Did something happen today?” she asked.

“I didn't know it had been that serious.” He stopped, swallowed, and then met her eyes with ones that were pained. “With you and Ben.”

The unease turned to a chill that washed over her from head to toe. “M-me and Ben?”

“I mean, I know you two hit it off from the start, but . . .” He leaned back in his chair and released a sigh so loud it almost drowned out the roar in her head.

Almost.

More than anything she wanted to play dumb, to act as if she had no idea what he was talking about, but to do so would be just that—playing. And the last thing she wanted to do with Jakob was play games. She cared about him and the relationship they were building way too much for that.

She reached across the narrow divide between their chairs and took his hands in hers. “Jakob, when I moved here, I was lost. I never pictured myself a divorcée. Ever. I believed marriage was supposed to be forever. Heck, I
still
believe that. But it didn't work for me. Coming here, to Diane's, was difficult. Yes, I love her. And yes, this was exactly where I wanted to be in the aftermath of my failure. But it was still embarrassing. I mean, I wasn't a little kid or a teenager spending a week or two with my favorite aunt anymore. I was a grown woman who had nowhere else to go.”

His face softened. “Your aunt loves having you here, Claire. Anyone with half a brain in their head can see that.”

“And I love being here, too. But, initially, it still felt like I'd failed.” She took a slow, measured inhale and then released it just as slowly. “For six months I almost never left this house. I helped her with the guests, of course, but I was too lost, too hurt to interact with life. Diane knew this and she tried to encourage me every moment of every day. Eventually, I realized she was right. I'd left Peter because I knew I deserved better, yet I wasn't treating myself any better than he had.”

“He was a fool, Claire. A complete and utter fool.”

“One day, Diane asked me what I wanted to do. And I said I wanted to own a gift shop.”

The faintest hint of a smile inched the right corner of Jakob's mouth upward and he squeezed her hands. “I'm glad you did.”

She claimed his full gaze and squeezed back. “I'm glad, too. Opening Heavenly Treasures has changed my life in more ways than I ever could have imagined at the time.”

“In good ways, yes?”

“In
fabulous
ways,” she corrected him before diving back into the reason behind their current conversation. “Suddenly, I had people to interact with—people who talked to me not because I was Diane's niece, but because I was me. I met Esther . . . and Eli . . . and Ruth . . . and Howard . . . and you . . .”

“And Ben.”

At the unfamiliar rasp in his voice, she released his hands, stood, and began wandering around the room, the framed photographs and slightly askew chairs barely registering in her thoughts. “And Ben,” she confirmed. “He was so chivalrous—carrying boxes into my shop, offering to take out the trash, always checking to see if I needed anything. It was . . . nice. Peter wasn't like that. He was always so lost in his own head that he saw nothing around him. Including me.”

“So you
were
interested in Ben,” he said.

She stopped when she reached the far side of the table, his words a near perfect match to a question she'd once asked herself a hundred times. A question she'd eventually been able to answer. “For five years I was married to someone who didn't listen, didn't
hear
. Ben heard. I needed that. I needed to share my thoughts—no matter what they
were—with someone who would hear me. To suddenly have that . . . with a man, no less . . . it was mind-blowing to me. I mean, I'd actually convinced myself that the reason Peter was so disinterested in me was because of something
I
was lacking. Yet, here was this man, who not only seemed to like to listen to me, but
wanted
to listen to me, too.

“Jakob, I can't tell you what it was like to feel as if I was interesting to someone—especially a man. I was blinded by that. I really was. But, eventually, I was able to get a grasp on reality.”

“And what was that?”

“That Ben, while an amazing listener, is my
friend
. The feelings I had were about me, not him. He helped me to like myself again. And for that, I'll be forever grateful, because it allowed me to get here—to this place. With you.”

He drew back, surprised. “I don't understand.”

“Ben helped me to heal. To stop seeing myself as dull. That puff of air, coupled with puffs from Diane and Esther and the rest of my new friends, helped me to believe in myself again. Which, in turn, helped me to be open to
you
. And”—she pointed between them—“
this
.”

Silence filled the space between them, only to be broken by Jakob. “He was willing to leave the Amish for you. To build a life with you as his wife.”

Instantly, she was back on the bench behind her store with Benjamin, talking about the life they could have and the life he was willing to forgo in order to have one with her. And, for the umpteenth time since that moment, she felt the prick of tears that always accompanied its memory.

“He was. And I'll never forget that. But doing that would have been a mistake. For both of us.”

“How so?” Jakob asked.

“Ben would have lost everything that mattered to him. His parents. His siblings. His beliefs.” Claire retraced her steps back to her chair and to Jakob. Slowly, she lowered herself down to her chair. “And I would have missed out on you.”

She saw him swallow just before he pulled her against his chest and held her tight. “I'm sorry, Claire. I just had to know.”

“I get it.” And she did. No one wanted to be another person's consolation prize, as Jakob had said. “But how did you find out? About Ben's offer?”

He pulled back enough to see her face, but kept his arms around her. “Ben stopped by my office shortly before I came here. He wanted to see if I had anything new to report on Wayne's death or the robberies. He saw that picture of us that I have on my desk and the next thing I knew, he started telling me how he, too, had been willing to leave the Amish. For you.”

“Is he . . . okay?” she asked.

“I think he's genuinely happy for us. I really do. But I also think he's wishing he could have something like this, too.”

“I pray for him to find that nearly every day,” she said honestly. “He's simply too special not to be someone's husband, and someone's father.”

“I agree.”

Four months earlier, those words never would have come out of Jakob's mouth—the decades'-old tension between the two men much too thick. But time had a way of healing all sorts of wounds, and she was glad.

“Knock knock.” They turned toward the hallway and Diane's aproned form. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but Annie is outside and she is asking to speak with you. I invited her inside, of course, but she is quite reluctant to leave Katie.”

Returning her gaze to Jakob, Claire knew the disappointment she saw in his face was mirrored on her own. “I'll keep this short, I promise,” she whispered.

He leaned in, kissed her so softly it nearly took her breath away, and then stood, holding his hand out to her as he did. “As long as I'm spending the evening with you, it's all good.”

*   *   *

They were barely through the side door when Annie started crying, her diminutive shoulders shaking beneath her lavender-colored dress.

Alarmed, Claire pulled her hand from Jakob's grasp and ran to the parking area, the detective close on her heels. “Annie? Annie? What's wrong, sweetie? Did something happen to your dat?”

Annie shook her head hard.

“Are you hurt?”

“N-no. I am not hurt.” Wiping the back of her hand across her tear-soaked cheeks, Annie nuzzled her face against Katie's. “Dat is not hurt.”

Claire glanced back at Jakob and saw the same confusion she felt. “Then I don't understand, sweetie. Why are you so upset? Is something wrong with Katie?”

At the mention of her beloved horse's name, Annie's tears turned into sobs.

“Annie, sweetie. Talk to me.” Claire tugged the girl away
from the horse and held her close while Jakob began a long, slow walk around the animal and the buggy. “We can't help you if you don't tell us what's wrong.”

Seconds turned to minutes as the girl's sobs lessened into sniffles before finally stopping completely. “I . . . I came home early from the hymn sing because it was not fun without Henry.”

It was hard not to smile at the reason behind the tears. It was even harder not to smile at the deepening confusion on Jakob's face.

“Oh, Annie, Henry is dealing with a lot right now. I'm sure he'll be back at the hymn sings again before long. You just wait and see.”

“I am not crying because of Henry. I know that he is helping his mamm.” Annie backed herself out of Claire's arms and ran her hand along the side of Katie. “I am crying because I should be more careful. With Katie.”

Jakob completed his inspection of the horse and came to stand beside Claire. “She looks fine to me, Annie.”

“Yah. Because she was with me. But if I had ridden to church with Dat, she could be missing right now.”

“Annie, I don't understand what you're talking about,” Claire said. “What did or didn't you do in regard to Katie?”

“I did not latch her stall this morning, even when I am sure I did.”

Jakob reached out, ran a soothing hand down the front of Katie's face, and then peered back at Annie. “You were probably just focused on getting her hitched to the buggy. We all get distracted sometimes, Annie. It happens.”

“But what if one day, when she is inside, I am sure I latch it, but don't? I could lose her. She is curious.”

“Do you think you'll do that?” Claire hooked a finger underneath Annie's chin and guided the teenager's gaze onto hers. “Because I don't. I see how careful you are at the store when you work. You always shut the register. You always make sure to remove your step stool the moment you are done using it so customers can't trip. You double-check the locks whenever you close. Not latching Katie's stall one time doesn't make you unfit to care for her, Annie.”

“I agree with Claire,” Jakob said as he dropped his hand to his side. “But if you're still worried, just make sure to double-check the door every time you—”

The familiar jingle of Jakob's phone cut his suggestion short and had him reaching into the front pocket of his khaki pants with a hurried hand. A glance at the illuminated screen was followed by a raised index finger. “I'm sorry, ladies, I've gotta take this. It's the station.”

Jakob brought his phone to his ear and stepped off to the side as Claire tucked a strand of hair back inside Annie's kapp. “Jakob is right, sweetie. Mistakes happen. And I doubt you'd have left the stall unlatched if Katie had been inside. You're much too careful.”