A Plain Disappearance (30 page)

“Ahh.” Grandfather Zook nodded. “I could use some gouda.”

I laughed.

It was still early morning and the bakery next door to the cheese shop was doing a brisk business, so all the parking spots in front were full. “It’s not even ten yet. The cheese shop may not be open.”

Grandfather Zook waved away my concern. “Amos Umble will open his door to me. Drop me here.”

I frowned at the frozen-over slush clinging to the curb. “Do you need any help reaching the door?”

“
Nee
. I may move slowly, but I will get there eventually.”

I gnawed on my lip as I watched him shuffle over the slush. A car behind me honked its horn, but I ignored it until Grandfather Zook was safely onto the salted sidewalk.

I parked on the square, and when I reached the shop’s glass door, I saw that Grandfather Zook sat on a barstool across from the cash register where a chubby Amish man, who looked to be in his sixties, smoothed dollar bills on the counter with sausage-like fingers.

I tried the door and it was locked. The man tucked the bills back into the drawer, then approached the door and let me inside. “You must be Chloe. Joseph was telling me all about you.”

The bells on the glass door chimed as it slammed shut behind me.

I scraped the snow from my boot on the bristle mat by the door. “I’m sorry that we intruded on you so early.”

“No need to apologize. If you want to talk to me, this is the best time. When the shop opens and the tour buses start rolling in, it becomes hectic. Winter is a slower time for us, but it is still close enough to Christmas that the
Englischers
are in a buying mood. Now in January,
that’s
when business will slow down.”

Grandfather Zook straightened his braces against the counter so they wouldn’t topple over. “It is the same for the farm. The deep winter is the quietest time of year and makes you eager for the planting season. My son-in-law can barely stand it. He has his cows to tend to, of course, but the worst punishment for him is being forced to be idle.”

Amos laughed. The large Amish man sat on a rickety old bar stool behind the cash register. “Simon Troyer is one of the hardest working men in the county. Chloe, why don’t you sit too? There is another stool over by the mustard counter.”

I unzipped my winter coat and stuffed my hat into the coat’s deep pocket before collecting the stool. I placed it next to Grandfather Zook, then perched on the seat.

Amos opened the cash register drawer again. He stuck his meaty hand inside and scooped out a fistful of quarters. He set the quarters on the worn wooden counter and began organizing them in stacks of ten. Paper coin rolls sat on the counter waiting to be filled. “Joseph tells me that you are here to talk to me about Katie.”

I shifted on the stool and it squeaked. “I heard that she worked here a long time.”

“She did—almost five years. I was sorry to see her go.” The smile fell from his face. “Her funeral is tomorrow.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” I said.

Grandfather Zook’s forehead wrinkled so much that it reminded me of a basset hound. “I didn’t know that either.”

The shopkeeper pushed the quarters down farther into the paper tube with his pinkie. “The deacon came in yesterday to pick up a selection of cheddars for a casserole his wife is making for the Lambrights and told me. I’m not surprised that you don’t know about it. The Lambrights are private folks, even by Amish standards. Many customers have come into the shop and mentioned that they were turned away by the family when they stopped by their farm to bring food or offer help with chores.”

Grandfather Zook braced his hands on his knees. “That is the Amish way—to offer help in time of loss. The community is supposed to come together and support them.”

So it wasn’t just the Troyers’ gift basket that was turned away. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or depressed by this news. I was sort of relieved because now I knew that the Troyers weren’t being singled out by the Lambrights, but at the same time, I was depressed thinking of Anna trapped in that house with no support. “Why do you think they’ve shut everyone out?” I asked.

“When Jeb’s first wife died, he became despondent and refused to see anyone. I was afraid for him and the girls. I thought when he married Sally he would be his old self, but she only seemed to pull him further away from the community.” Amos wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something sour. “Except for business and Sunday church, the family rarely leaves their land.”

I leaned forward and the stool squeaked again. “Sally has two sons from her first husband.”

Amos nodded. “
Ya
. I don’t know them well. They never lived on the Lambright farm, but I know that they have visited a few times, never for a long while. They own their father’s farm up a little bit north of here in Ashland.”

I wasn’t sure if the cheese shop owner would answer my next question, but I had to ask it. “Did Jeb ever hurt the girls?”

Amos looked up sharply from his coins, and Grandfather Zook watched me. Amos set the roll of quarters on the counter. “Why would you ask such a terrible thing?”

My cheeks felt hot. “Chief Rose said that there were signs of old injuries on Katie’s body. The injuries were consistent with abuse. One in particular—a broken finger—concerned her. Chief Rose said that break indicated that someone had twisted it.”

He frowned and his eyes drooped. “I know about Katie’s broken finger. She came into work that very day with her hand in a makeshift bandage. It pained her. She said that it got caught and that she twisted it while trying to climb over a fence on the farm. She refused to go to the hospital, even when I offered to take her.” Slowly he shook his head. “I knew I should have insisted.”

“But you don’t think the injury came from her father.” I watched his face for any sign of doubt.

Amos began stacking quarters again. “
Nee
.
I can’t believe that about my old friend. Jeb is a cold man, but he would never physically hurt either of his girls.”

I wanted to ask him how, if Jeb Lambright discarded their friendship after the death of his first wife, he could be so certain.

Mr. Umble seemed to sense my doubt. “If anyone hurt Katie, it would have been one of her young men.”

“One of her young men? Were there many?”

He set five rolls of quarters to the side and returned to the cash register where he scooped out the dimes. The coins clattered onto the counter. “I never cared much for Caleb King. He is a tough young man, too harsh for someone as sweet as Katie. I told her so many times. It was a
gut
thing when she let Nathan Garner court her.”

“When was that?”

“Not long after her finger was broken.”

Coincidence? I don’t think so. “And Jason Catcher?”

He started to stack the dimes. “That
Englischer
.” He snorted. “He was always standing outside of the store, watching Katie. I knew it made her nervous, so I asked him to stop. Didn’t do much good. He watched her from the square.”

A dime rolled across the counter. I stopped it with my hand and slid it back to Amos. “Do you think he could have broken Katie’s finger?”

“I don’t know. He never struck me as the sort of guy who would do that, but she did seem wary of him after the break. Before that, she was perfectly normal around him.” He dropped several dimes into the paper roll and used the eraser end of the pencil to push them to the bottom since his pinkie was too large for the dime roll. “I hired Katie because her
daed
was a
gut
friend of mine once upon a time, but she turned into one of my best employees.”

My brow shot up. I had learned much about Katie over the last few days, but nothing about her work ethic.

Grandfather Zook shifted on his stool. “She was reliable.”

“
Ya
. I hired Katie on like I do with most of the Amish girls who come into the shop looking for work as a stock girl, but I learned that she had a great head for figures. Within the first month, she balanced all of my accounts and organized my expenses and income in a way that I could understand. I was sorry to lose her. Now that she’s gone, my ledgers are a mess. I’m considering hiring an
Englischer
accountant to straighten them out.”

“Why did she quit?” I asked.

He placed a roll of coins beside the quarter rolls. “I wish I knew.”

I had a feeling only Anna Lambright would be able to answer that question for me.

My phone rang in my purse, and my face turned beet red. “I’m so sorry.” I grabbed the bag off the counter and searched for my cell to silence it. When I pulled the phone out, the readout displayed my dad’s number. My hand shook and the phone kept ringing.

“Chloe?” Grandfather Zook’s voice was heavy with concern.

I blinked. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” I hopped off the stool and slipped out the shop’s front door, answering the call just before it went to voice mail. “Hello?”

“Hello, Chloe, this is your father.”

As if I didn’t recognize his voice. “Hi . . . Dad.” My tongue tied.

“Sabrina told me that you phoned on Christmas. I’m sorry I missed your call,” he said stiffly.

He was?
“It’s okay,” I said, even though it wasn’t.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?”

“Yes. Did you?”

“I did,” he replied.

There was an awkward pause.

“I’m sorry that you couldn’t come out for Thanksgiving,” he said.

That I couldn’t come out? Sabrina uninvited me to Thanksgiving. I bit my tongue to hold back a smart remark.

“But I was wondering if you could come out here for a few days sometime after New Year’s.”

A few days? I hadn’t spent much more than forty-eight hours with my father since he had moved to California. “Well, I . . .”

“I know it’s short notice, but I thought you would have the time since the college is closed.”

He was right. I did have the time. Classes wouldn’t resume until mid-January. One of my staffers, Miller, said that he would be back in town the day after Christmas. He could keep an eye on things while I was gone, but did I want to go?

My father was reaching out. This might be my only chance. If I didn’t take it, somehow I knew there wouldn’t be another. Timothy’s face flashed in my head. He would understand why I needed to see my dad because he loved me. That gave me courage.

“Yes, I have the time,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t shake.

“Good,” he clipped. “I will have my secretary book your flight and e-mail you the reservation.”

“Thank you.” I paused. “Does Sabrina know I’m coming?”

“Of course. She’s looking forward to seeing you.”

I’ll bet.

I hung up as Grandfather Zook came out of the cheese shop. I hurried to his side.

“Who called you?” Grandfather Zook asked.

“My father,” I said.

“Ahh,” he murmured and left it at that. As we shuffled toward my Bug, I was grateful he didn’t ask anything more about it.

G
arner Dutch Furniture Warehouse was located on a lonely stretch of Route 13 between Mount Vernon and Appleseed Creek, not far from the wildlife preserve and the auto parts factory where Billy had been hiding out. The shop had just opened, and Grandfather Zook and I were the first customers of the day. I helped Grandfather out of my Bug and popped the trunk. Then I lifted the large plastic bin of Grandfather Zook’s wooden wares from the trunk.

“Do you need help with that?” the old man asked, even though he surely knew that with his braces he could not offer me any assistance.

I adjusted my grip on the bin. “Nope. I got it.” At the door, I balanced the bin on my knee and held it open for us both.

Inside the warehouse, the first detail that hit me was the smell, which had the hard bite of vinegar—Amish used it to polish furniture—and the earthiness of sawdust. Not that there was any sawdust on the floor. The simple concrete flooring was swept so clean I wondered if the proverbial statement was true and if the Garners ever ate off of it.

Unlike those furniture showrooms that helped the shoppers imagine the pieces in his or her own home, the Garners displayed their wares in like groups. All the chests of drawers were in one corner, the end tables in another, the pie safes in another. Shoppers had to hunt for what they wanted, but discovering hidden gems instead of being coaxed into an impulse buy was part of the fun.

Levi Garner grinned ear to ear, showing off his dimple. “Joseph Zook, you came all this way to see me. To what do I owe this honor?”

Grandfather Zook knocked the snow off the end of his braces by the front door. “
Gude Mariye
, Levi.”

Levi’s eyes slid to me. “I remember you from our last visit to the Troyer farm.”

“Chloe is driving me around on my errands today. I have some more items to sell to you.”

The dimple appeared again. “
Gut
. The
Englischers
like your small woodworking projects. They feel like they can take a little bit of Amish country home with them.” He pointed to a dining room table to the left of the door. “We can look at everything right here.”

I set the bin on top of the table and stepped back. Levi peered inside and pulled out one of Grandfather’s letter holders. It had a cardinal carved into the front of it that was so lifelike, I thought it might fly right off the piece of wood. The source of Becky’s artistic talent was obvious. Levi placed two more letter holders next to the first, each one more beautiful than the last. “You do excellent work, Joseph.”

Grandfather Zook lowered himself into one of the dining chairs and grinned. “It passes the time.”

Levi ran his hand over one of the carvings. “I’ll price these at thirty a piece. We will break the sale as always. Sixty, forty, in your favor.”

Grandfather Zook scratched his chin. “Is that what you sell them for? Last time you said forty for each.”

The warehouse owner folded his hands on the tabletop. “It’s the time of year. We’re entering January and February and there will be far less visitors to the county until the winter weather breaks. I have to consider space costs, because these will likely be in my warehouse at least until spring.