Murder, Served Simply (11 page)

No one heard me. They were too engrossed in Anna's demonstration.

I stepped behind the register. “Hello, Caroline.”

“Angie, I'm glad I caught you. We are having an emergency trustees' meeting tonight at Willow's tea shop. Be there at eight,” she said, assuming that I would drop everything and be there. At least the former head trustee, Farley Jung, had asked me if I would like to join.

I leaned on the counter. “What's the meeting about?”

“The situation at the hotel. What do you think? We have three more groups of progressive diners scheduled to move through Rolling Brook over the next two weeks. The next tour is on December twenty-six. We need to decide how to handle the situation.”

“Is there a possibility that the progressive dinners won't go on? The play won't resume?”

“That's what we are trying to avoid. The township can't afford giving refunds back to guests with reservations. We have to make this work.”

I felt eyes boring into my back. This wasn't the time and place to question Caroline any further. “I will see you at the tea shop.”

“Who was that, Angie?” Sarah asked.

I inwardly groaned. Couldn't Sarah have at least waited to ask me until after the quilting class left? “Caroline Cramer,” I said. “We have a trustees' meeting tonight.”

“I bet it's about Eve Shetler,” Shirley said. “And I couldn't help overhearing something about the progressive dinner. I hope you all aren't thinking of canceling it. I have reservations for myself and five of my family
members for the dinner and play on December twenty-six. I would hate to miss it. Worse yet, if it's canceled, I will have to think of another way to entertain all of those people until they go back home.”

“The progressive dinner is not in danger of being canceled,” I said even though I wasn't nearly as confident as I sounded.

A last-minute trustees' meeting wasn't all bad. It would give me an opportunity to speak to Jason about his daughter and Eve, but first, I wanted to speak to his daughter myself.

A
t the end of class, the women packed up their belongings. Each had a quilted snowman tucked away in her bag. During the demonstration, Anna made a few extra, so she tucked those in the window display.

Mattie closed the front door after Shirley, the last student to leave.

As soon as the door was shut, I said, “Mattie, why didn't you tell me that Eve was Rachel's cousin?”

Mattie stared at me. “I—I guess I forgot. Rachel never talks about her family. I was still in school when she and Aaron married.” She chewed on her lip. “How is Rachel?”

“Upset,” I said as I carried one of the class chairs to the back of the shop.

Anna clicked her tongue. “It's a shame.”

“Nahum is Rachel's dad?” I asked, because I still couldn't believe it, even though Rachel told me that herself.

Anna nodded. “He went crazy after his wife's death
and said all kinds of terrible things against his bishop at that time. He was asked to leave the district. This was when Rachel was a baby.”

“Where did Rachel go?” I asked. My heart hurt for my friend.

“She lived with her aunt and uncle from her mother's side of the family.” Mattie started folding up the other chairs from class. “She thought of them as her parents, and I always thought of them as her real parents too. We didn't talk about Nahum in our house. I guess over time I forgot who he was, at least in relation to my sister-in-law.”

“This just makes me want to find out what happened to Eve more.” I braced myself on the back of one of the chairs. “Maybe it will bring some peace between Rachel and her father's family if I do.”

Anna shook her head. “I understand your wanting to help, but that wound goes very deep.”

I frowned. “Mattie, can you watch the shop for a couple of hours? I think I'm going to stop by the library.”

Sarah cocked her head, much like Oliver would. “To talk to Amber.”

I laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

Anna placed a hand on my arm. “Please just be careful, Angie. Nahum is Rachel's father, but that doesn't make him a
gut
man.”

I shivered.

I left Dodger with Mattie, which my assistant grumbled about. My cat and helper rarely saw eye to eye. Oliver followed me out of the shop, and it was nice to have the company. On the sidewalk in front of Running Stitch,
I looked across the street into the bakery. Rachel was wiping down the counter. A light snow began to fall, and it was like watching my friend through a snow globe.

Rachel had had a difficult year. In October, the trustees disputed her husband's bid to build a baked goods factory at the end of Sugartree Street, and she had been a prime suspect for murder. Neither set of circumstances was typical for an Amish woman to find herself in. And now she had Eve's death and her father's possible involvement to contend with.

Down the street, work was yet to begin on the factory. When the snow began to fall, any hope of breaking ground before spring was lost.

I waited for two buggies to cross our path, and then Oliver and I walked across the street.

Rachel looked up from cleaning the counter when Oliver and I pushed through the door.

She smiled and reached under the counter for the container of dog biscuits that she kept there just for Oliver. My dog wasn't spoiled or anything. She tossed him one.

Delicately, the Frenchie picked it up between his teeth and carried it over to the small café area. He snuggled by the cooler, holding the biscuit between his paws and began to lick it. Apparently, the Frenchie was determined to make the treat last. Even though he had no reason to, Oliver always worried about his next meal.

Rachel wrapped up a loaf of pumpernickel bread for the last customer waiting to be served. When the Amish man left, she stepped around the counter. “Let's sit in the café.”

I poured two cups of coffee from the carafe the Millers always kept on a warmer near the café tables.

Rachel accepted one of the mugs.
“Danki.”

I poured a generous helping of cream into my coffee. “Anna told me a little bit about your family history.”

She smiled. “Anna knows something about everyone in the township.”

“I'm sorry. And I feel like a jerk. How many times have you heard me complain about my mom, and you . . .” I trailed off.

“Don't apologize, Angie. I'm the one who didn't tell you. I should be the one to say I'm sorry.”

“When's the last time you saw your father?”

She stirred her coffee and was quiet for a long moment, so long I thought she wasn't going to answer. “It was well over a year ago. I saw him in Millersburg. I was picking up supplies for the bakery, and there he was, walking down Main Street. I almost didn't recognize him. He'd changed so much. He looked wild.”

“Did you say anything to him?”

She shook her head. “And it's not because he's shunned among the Amish or because Aaron would not want me to. I stopped because—”

“Because why?”

“He didn't know who I was or pretended he didn't. He looked right through me.” She concentrated on her mug.

I couldn't imagine my father pretending that he didn't know me. “That must have been very painful.”

She nodded. “I should be grateful though. My aunt and uncle were wonderful parents to me, and now I
have Aaron, the boys, and Mattie. They are my family now. They are all I need.”

It sounded to me like Rachel needed closure with her father, but the Amish don't give much weight to pop psychology, so I didn't say it.

“What about your uncles and cousins on that side? Why don't you speak to them?”

“I don't know. They have never been interested in me. It wasn't until I was married that I even knew that Noah Shetler's family was related to me. Shetler is a common name in the county.”

“How did you find out?”

“My
aenti
told me not long before she died. I went to the tree farm my uncles owned to talk to them, but they weren't interested in speaking to me.”

I frowned. It seemed to me that a trip to the tree farm was in order for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I wanted to meet Eve's father, and secondly, I now was motivated to for my friend.

Rachel looked up from her tea. “Angie, you don't plan to do anything reckless, do you?”

“When do I plan to do anything reckless?”

She laughed lightly. “I suppose you never plan it, but you won't do anything that might put you in danger, will you, especially where my father is concerned? He's a very angry man. If . . .” She paused. “If he hurt you, I would never forgive myself.”

I grinned. “Don't worry about me. Don't I come out okay every time?”

“There are burn marks on your palms from this past summer. Does that mean you've come out okay?”

I flipped over my hands and looked at the faint scars. They faded more and more with every passing day. “I'd say so. I came out of that barn alive and so did Oliver.”

The Frenchie lifted his head from his biscuit.

“I am going to talk to your father, but I won't go alone.”

“Please don't mention me when you do.”

“Rachel—”

“Please, Angie. I could not bear it if I thought that he would acknowledge me, but then in the end ignore me. It would be too painful to go through again.” She wrapped her tiny hand around my wrist. “Please promise.”

I swallowed. “Okay. I promise.”

Twenty minutes later, Oliver and I were on the road to the main library in Holmes County in Millersburg.

Fresh snow crunched under the tires of my SUV as I turned into the library parking lot, which I had reached via an access road. A long hitching post dominated the left side of the space. A lone horse and buggy waited patiently for the owner to return. I made Oliver a nest in the backseat of my car with the blankets I kept in there. “I won't be long,” I promised. The temperature held at thirty, so I knew he would be okay for the few minutes I needed to speak with Amber.

Since moving to Millersburg, I had been in the library countless times. I had the stack of books and movies in my house to prove it. I stepped around the open stairwell and went to the main desk. I smiled at the young man at the desk, who was checking in books off a cart. “Is Amber here?”

Without asking who I was or why I was asking, he pointed back toward the fiction section. People in Holmes County were certainly trusting. If I'd asked something like that at the main library in Dallas, I would have been interrogated as to why I needed to know.

An Amish woman sat in an armchair, leafing through an issue of
Food Network
magazine. In the children's section a few feet away, two Amish children played with puppets while an English child played a spelling game on the computer.

The library wasn't very big, so I found Amber quickly. She was shelving books in the Western section. Her cart was piled high with books adorned with pictures of cowboy boots and Stetsons. I looked down at my ugly snow boots, missing my cowboy boots back home. Maybe I should give Westerns a try. Maybe they would remind me of home, at least in the descriptions of the clothing.

Amber stood on a rolling library stool, trying to reach the top shelf with a book. She was a petite girl, I would guess just shy of five feet tall, so she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf. She kind of tipped the book into place and pushed it in with her index finger.

“Amber?” I asked.

She yelped, and the book tumbled to the industrial-
carpeted floor with a bang. I threw out my hand to steady her. “Careful!”

She hopped off the stool and scooped up the novel, holding it to her chest.

“I'm sorry I startled you,” I said.

“It's not your fault. I was too focused on what I was doing.” She gripped the book even harder.

I smiled. “I'm sure you have to pay attention to make sure all of the books get in the right spots.”

She shrugged. “Can I help you find something?”

I swallowed. “Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?” She paused. “Do I know you?”

I shook my head. “I knew Eve, and—”

Amber burst into tears.

Sheesh, I was beginning to believe that every time I mentioned Eve's name, someone would start to cry. I took the book from her hands and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “Shh!” I couldn't believe that I was shushing someone in the library.

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry.”

“There's nothing to be sorry for.”

“It's just been so hard. I've been in a daze ever since I heard. The littlest thing can set me off.”

I handed her the book. “Because Eve was your friend.”

She nodded, replacing the book on the cart. “She was my best friend. She was like a sister to me.”

I felt the corners of my own eyes itch. True, Aunt Eleanor had been gone for several months now, but Amber's open grief reminded me about the acute pain I'd felt right after my aunt died. “Maybe you should go home?”

She shook her head. “I'll be all right. The library will be closed for Christmas, and I can't afford to miss work. I need the money for school.”

“Are you in college?”

She nodded. “How did you know Eve?”

Ahh, that was a tricky question. I hadn't really known Eve at all. I had sat beside her for a little more than an hour, but in that time I had liked her. I was sorry she was gone. However, that would not impress her best friend.

“I own Running Stitch. It's a quilt shop in Rolling Brook.”

“Across from the bakery?”

“That's right. I'm a Rolling Brook trustee too.”

“So you know my father.”

I nodded. “And I met Eve at the progressive dinner.”

“Yesterday? The day—the day she died.”

“Yes.”

She stared at the floor. “I wasn't there. I was supposed to go, but I told Eve that I would see it another time. I had to work late at the library. She said I should have called off.” She sighed. “The last time that we spoke, she was mad at me. The last thing she said to me was I didn't care enough about her to see her on opening night.”

My heart broke for the girl.

“It wasn't true. Eve was my best friend. Even after she moved to New York, we never lost touch. I couldn't believe it when she took the job at the play here. I was so excited. Since she moved to New York, I had only seen her in person once. She didn't want to come back here, and I don't have much money to travel.”

“Junie told her about the part in the play,” I said.

Amber nodded. “Eve told me that. To be honest, I was a little surprised. Eve and Junie weren't that close. At least Eve made me think they weren't.” Amber shrugged.
“But Eve was away from home for almost three years, so she must have missed her sister and family. She couldn't talk to them as easily as she could have spoken to me. We talked on the phone or texted every day. You can't do that with an Amish person.”

No you couldn't, I thought.

“It's weird to speak to someone every day of your life, and then one day it just stops, like all those conversations were a figment of your imagination. Sometimes I replay the conversations that we had and things that made us laugh in my head. I'm starting to wonder if the memories are true or if my mind is twisting them in some way to make them better or worse than they really were. There's no one to ask to know for sure because I am the only one left who remembers.”

I squeezed her hand. “They are your memories. I think you have a right to remember them any way that you can.”

She slid the stool out of the way of her book cart with her foot and then rolled the cart down the aisle. “I hope you're right.”

“Did you see Eve after she came back?”

“I saw her almost every day except”—she swallowed—“except for the day she died.”