Hide in Plain Sight (12 page)

The room looked much like any farmhouse kitchen, with its wooden cabinets and linoleum floor. A wooden china closet held special dishes. One difference was that the only wall decoration was a large calendar featuring a picture of kittens in a basket. In most Old Order Amish communities, only such a useful picture could be placed on the wall.

She sipped strong coffee, glancing around the long, rectangular table with its covering of checkered oilcloth. The children chattered amongst themselves softly, mindful of having an English guest. With their round blue eyes and blond hair, the girls in braids, the boys bowl-cut, they looked very alike.

Eli and Samuel talked about the next day’s work. Levi sat silent, looking down at his pie. His clean-shaven face was unusual for an Amish adult male, but the beard was a sign of marriage. His soft round cheeks were like those of the children.

Had the figure in the rain had a beard? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to think it, but nothing that had been done would be beyond Levi’s capabilities.

She glanced at the gas range. He’d know about the pilot light. But he’d never hurt his mother. That was a ridiculous thought.

A small voice at the back of her mind commented that he might have expected it to be her. All of the Zook family would know about the supper arrangements.

She wanted to reject the idea, but she couldn’t. Levi
seemed so uneasy with her presence at the table. He’d sent her only one startled glance when she first sat down, his blue eyes as wide as those of a frightened deer, and since then he’d kept his gaze fixed firmly on his plate, showing her only the top of his blond head.

A low rumble of thunder had all of them looking toward the windows.

“Ach, a storm is coming yet.” Eli pushed his chair back. “We must get the outside chores done quickly.”

The children scurried from the table, diving toward the door in their eagerness to be first out.

“I’d better leave if I don’t want to get soaked on the way home.” Andrea rose and held out her hand to Nancy. “Thank you so much for the wonderful meal.”

“It’s nothing.” Nancy bobbed her head in a formal little gesture. “Would you be wanting Levi to walk you back?”

“No.” That came too quickly. “I’m sure he has work to do. I’ll be fine, but I’d better run.”

She hurried out the back door, waving to the children as she headed for the path that went around the pond and through a small woodlot before coming out behind the barn where Cal had his shop.

Thunder rumbled again, closer now. It had been foolish not to bring a jacket, with afternoon thunderstorms forecast. Still, if she hurried, she could probably beat the rain home.

The breeze picked up, ruffling the surface of the pond and making the tall ferns that bordered it sway and dance. The scent of rain was in the air, and lightning flashed along the horizon. The distant farms, each marked by twin silos, seemed to wait for the rain.

She scurried past the pond with a fleeting memory of sailing homemade boats on it with the Zook children. The path plunged between the trees, and it was suddenly dark. She slowed, watching the path, having no desire to trip on a tree root and go sprawling.

A trailing blackberry bramble caught at her slacks, then tugged the laces of her sneakers, pulling one free of its knot. She bent, quickly retying it. Quiet—it was so quiet here. Even the birds must have taken shelter from the coming storm.

But as she rose, a sound froze her in place. Was that a footstep, somewhere behind her?

She looked back, seeing nothing, but the undergrowth was thick enough to hide a figure unless it was close. Too close.

That thought got her feet moving again. Hurry. Don’t think about the possibility of someone behind you. Think about the fact that the last thing Cal told you was to be careful. Is this being careful?

Cal. She yanked out her cell phone. Better to risk feeling foolish than get into trouble. She could still feel those strong hands that pushed her into the toolshed.

Cal answered almost at once.

“It’s Andrea. I’m on the path coming back from Zook’s farm. Maybe I’m being silly, but I thought I heard someone behind me.”

“I’m on my way.” The connection clicked off.

She’d stopped long enough to make the call, and now the sound was closer. The bushes rustled as if a body forced its way through them.

Could be a deer. But even as she thought the words
she started to run, feet thudding on the path, instinct telling her to flee like a frightened animal.

Around the twists in the path, careful, careful, don’t trip. If you fall, he could be on you in a moment.

The sounds behind her were louder now, as if the follower had given up any need for secrecy. She didn’t dare look behind her. To lose even a second could allow him to catch up.

Lightning flashed, close now, and the boom of thunder assaulted her ears. She was nearly out of the woods, just a little farther…

She spurted into the open like a cork from a bottle, and as she did the heavens opened. In an instant she was drenched and gasping as if she’d been shoved into a cold shower.

Don’t stop, don’t stop…

And then she saw Cal running toward her. Relief swept over her. She was safe.

C
al put another small log on the fire he’d started in his fireplace and watched flames shoot up around it. Maybe the fire would warm and comfort Andrea. It was probably better than putting his arms around her, which was his instinctive reaction.

He put the poker back in the rack, glancing toward her. She sat on the sofa, wearing one of his flannel shirts, towel-drying her hair. She looked vulnerable, which made it even harder to keep his distance.

He had to find a way to help her, but he had to do it without wrecking the hard-won peace he’d found since he’d come here. Getting emotionally involved with a woman who couldn’t wait to get away from this life would be a mistake. So would reverting to acting and thinking like a lawyer.

“Thanks.” Andrea looked up at him, producing a faint smile. “For the fire and the hot chocolate. I’ve already had enough coffee to keep me up half the night.”

He sat down in the armchair, a careful distance from her. “Can you tell me about it now?”

“There’s not much to tell.” She frowned, absently
toweling the damp hair that clung to her neck. “I’d gone over to see how Emma was, and Nancy insisted I stay for supper. When we noticed the storm coming up, they all scattered to do their chores, and I headed down the path. I’d just reached the woods when I thought I heard someone behind me.”

“Back up a little. Did you see where Levi was when you left?”

“I’m not sure. Nancy offered to have him walk me back, but I said no.” Her gaze met his. “I’m a little ashamed of that. I’m letting suspicion make a difference in how I treat people. That’s not right.”

“Maybe so, but it’s probably unavoidable. So you don’t know where he went at that point?”

“I think he headed for the barn with the boys, but I’m not positive, but just because I was at Zook’s farm, that doesn’t mean Levi was the one who followed me.”

“No, but it’s more probable than that someone else was hanging around, watching you.”

He could see the shiver that went through her at the suggestion, and regretted it. But somehow they had to get to the bottom of this.

“So you never actually saw the person who followed you.”

“No. Just heard him. At first I thought it was an animal, but once I started to run—” She wrapped her arms around her, as if comforting herself, and the too-long sleeves of the shirt flopped over her hands. “I’m sure what I heard was a person.”

“I didn’t see him, either.” He frowned. What could anyone hope to gain by such a stunt?

Andrea shoved her hair back from her face. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.” Her voice was tart.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m trying not to think like a lawyer, but old habits die hard.” He’d thought he had it licked before Andrea came, involving him in her problems.

That wasn’t fair. The trouble had already been here, but something about Andrea’s arrival seemed to have brought it out.

“It’s not that bad to think like an attorney, is it? After all, you are one.”

“I’m a carpenter,” he said. “Any resemblance to the person I used to be is a mistake.”

A slight frown wrinkled her brows. “I can understand your grief and guilt. But do you think that necessarily means you can’t be an attorney?”

His turn to frown. “You think I’m wasting my life here. Is that it? Believe me, I’ve gained far more than I lost in making the change. Peace. A new relationship with God.” He paused, his momentary irritation dissolving. “In my old life, I’d have been embarrassed if someone brought up God in conversation. Am I embarrassing you?”

“No.” Her face softened. “Maybe it’s the impact of this place. I’ve thought more about faith since I came back than I had in the past year. Feeling—I don’t know. Tugged back, I guess.”

“I’m glad.” He reached across the space between them to take her hand. Her fingers were cold, and he tried to warm them with his. “Even when you go away…”

He stopped. He didn’t want her to leave. That was
the truth, however irrational it might be. She wouldn’t stay. Her life was elsewhere.

“When I leave—”

Her eyes met his, and he saw in them exactly what he felt. Longing. Tenderness. Regret.

Be careful. You’re not going to kiss her again. It would be a mistake, getting entangled with someone who is determined to leave.

He rose, moving to the fireplace and leaning on the mantel. Take himself out of range.

“As far as this incident is concerned…” He frowned, trying to concentrate on the problem. “Most likely the person who followed you was Levi, simply because no one else could have known you were there. But if stopping the inn from opening is the object of all this harassment, why would he care?”

“I suppose that must be the motive—at least I can’t think of any other reasonable hypothesis.” She frowned. “It still seems overly dramatic to think that any of these solid, law-abiding Pennsylvania Dutchmen would resort to trying to scare me away just to eliminate another B and B.”

“None of it is very logical.” He had to get a handle on some aspect of the situation. He might have a better chance of doing that if his heart didn’t perform such peculiar acrobatics whenever he looked at Andrea.

“There’s still nothing to take to the police. I can just imagine their reaction to my story of being followed coming back from the Zook farm.”

“They wouldn’t be impressed, I’m afraid.” They’d be polite, of course, but what could they do? It wasn’t
as if she’d been attacked. That thought sent a coldness settling deep inside him. The incident with the stove was an attack, but he couldn’t prove it, or that she had been the target.

Andrea glanced at her watch and then shot to her feet. “Look at the time. I have to get home before Grams. I can’t let her see me like this.”

“You look pretty good to me.” He pushed away from the mantel. “Sort of casually disheveled.”

“I look as if I’ve been dragged through a knothole,” she said tartly. She started for the door.

He followed her. “I’ll walk you back.”

“You don’t need—”

“I’ll walk you back,” he repeated firmly, opening the door. “No more wandering around alone, okay?”

He thought she’d flare up at that, but she just nodded. “I’ll take the dog with me everywhere I go. He might not be the brightest of creatures, but at least he’ll make noise.”

He wanted to offer himself instead of the dog, but that wouldn’t be wise, not when just being within six feet of her made him want to kiss her. Like now.

He yanked the door open. The rain had subsided to a faint drizzle. “You’re right. We’d better go.”

Before he gave in to the powerful need to have her in his arms.

“Just grate the cheese.” Laughter filled Rachel’s voice as she sat in her wheelchair in the kitchen, the table pushed aside to give her more room. “Go on, use the grater. It won’t bite you.”

“I’m not so sure.” Andrea gingerly lifted the metal
grater, wary of its sharp teeth. Still, anything that had Rachel laughing had to be good.

Afternoon sun streamed through the kitchen windows, but she was making a breakfast frittata. At least, she was attempting to. She began grating the cheese into the earthenware bowl Rachel had chosen, trying to keep her fingers out of reach of the grater’s teeth.

“You really think I can prepare a breakfast that will satisfy the guests.” She frowned. “Make that three breakfasts, if Emma doesn’t come back until next week.”

“Look at it this way,” Rachel said. “You’re not so much cooking as being my hands. I’m really cooking. You’re following directions.”

The cheese stuck on the grater, and she gave it a shove. The bowl tipped, the grater flew up, and cheese sprinkled like snowflakes over the tile floor.

She looked at Rachel. “Your hands just made a mess.”

Rachel’s lips twitched. Then, as if she couldn’t hold it back, she began to laugh.

Andrea glared, but an irrepressible chuckle rose in her throat.

“Go ahead, laugh. I never claimed to be able to cook. That’s your department. I eat out or open a frozen dinner, and my cheese comes already grated in a bag.”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel’s green eyes, so like her own, brimmed with laughter. “It’s just that you’re so competent on the computer and all thumbs in the kitchen.”

“It’s a good thing there’s one area of my life that’s under control.”

But was it? The computer represented the business world to her, and how could she know what was happening back at the office when she was stuck here? E-mailing her assistant wasn’t the same as being there, especially when that assistant had her eyes on Andrea’s job.

“I’d be just as out of place in your office,” Rachel said. “Here, hand me the bowl. Maybe I can set it in my lap and do the grating.”

“No, I’m determined now. I will learn how to do this.” She began again, careful to keep the bowl steady. “After all, you’ll have to learn how to keep the reservations on the computer after I leave. I’ll get to laugh at you then.”

“Did you really get all that computerized?” Rachel shook her head. “I kept putting off trying, because it looked so hard.”

“It’ll be much easier once you get used to it. Much of your traffic will come from the Web site I started, especially when we get some more pictures up. Right now I just have the basics.” That was one good thing accomplished, and the computer really would make running the inn easier, if she could get Rachel in the habit of using it.

“I’m astonished. You’ve done more in two weeks than I did in six months.”

She must be getting more sensitive, because she detected immediately the note in Rachel’s voice that said she was comparing herself unfavorably with her big sister.

“That’s nonsense,” she said firmly. “The renovations are all credited to you, and as for the garden…” She glanced out the kitchen window at the borders filled
with color. “The guests will love looking at that while they have their breakfast. Always assuming I manage to make anything edible.”

“You’ll be fine,” Rachel said. “You just have to do one main hot dish for each day. We’ll serve fresh fruit cups, that special Amish-recipe granola that Grams gets from the farmer’s market, and the breads and coffee cakes that Nancy offered to make. It’ll be fine.”

“Thank goodness for Nancy. She promised us Moravian Sugar Cakes for the first morning. I’ll gain a pound just smelling them.” She looked down in surprise, realizing she’d actually grated the entire block of cheese without getting any bloody knuckles. “We have to remember to bring flowers in to put on the tables, too.”

Rachel nodded, turning the chair so that she could see out the screen door toward the garden. “I wish I’d been able to get the gazebo moved. That was one thing I intended that I didn’t get to.”

“Move the gazebo?” Andrea glanced out at the white wooden structure with its lacy gingerbread trim. “Why?”

Rachel shook her head. “You really don’t have an eye for a garden, do you? It’s in quite the wrong place, where it doesn’t have a view. It makes the garden look crowded, instead of serving as an accent piece.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She wiped her hands on a tea towel. “What do I do next?”

Before Rachel could answer, the telephone rang.

Rachel picked it up. “Three Sisters Inn,” she said, a note of pride in her voice. But a moment later her face had paled, and she looked at Andrea with panic in her eyes.

“Just a moment, please.” She covered the receiver with her hand. “It’s Mr. Elliot—has a reservation for the weekend, an anniversary surprise for his wife. He claims he received an e-mail from us, canceling, saying we aren’t going to be open yet. You didn’t—”

“Of course not.” For a moment she stared at her sister, speculations running wildly through her mind. Then she reached for the phone. Redeem the situation first, if she could, and figure out where the blame lay later.

“Mr. Elliot?” It was her businesswoman voice, calm, assured, in control. “I’m terribly sorry about this misunderstanding, but we certainly didn’t cancel your reservation.”

“You didn’t send this e-mail?” He sounded suspicious.

“No, sir, we didn’t. My sister has been hospitalized, and perhaps something went out without our knowledge.” That made it sound as if they had a vast staff capable of making such an error.

“Seems a sloppy way to run an inn,” he muttered, but the anger had gone out of his voice. “So we’re still on for the weekend.”

“Yes, indeed.” She infused her voice with warmth, even as her mind seethed with possibilities. “And we’ll provide a very special anniversary cake to surprise your wife. Don’t worry about a thing.”

When she finally hung up, her hand was shaking.

Rachel stared at her. “They’re still coming?”

“Yes. But it’s a good thing he was angry enough to want to blow up at us, or we’d never have known.”

“The other guests—” Rachel’s eyes darkened with concern.

“I’ll get the list and call them right away.” She hurried into the library, headed for the computer, hearing the wheels of Rachel’s chair behind her.

“Maybe we can reach them before they have a chance to make other plans.” Rachel sounded as if she were clinging hard to hope.

“Cross your fingers.” Andrea paused. “The person who planned this overreached herself. If she’d waited until the last minute, we’d probably have been sitting high and dry with no guests.”

“She?”

“She. I can’t prove it, but I know perfectly well who did this.”

“It had to be Margaret. She was in the library the other day with access to the computer. She even said something to me Sunday about hearing we wouldn’t be able to open in time. But what can I do? There’s no way to prove it.”

Andrea had spotted Cal making his nightly rounds with a flashlight and called him in. Grams and Rachel had gone to bed early, and the house was quiet.

They sat on the sofa in the old summer kitchen that still bore remnants of the playroom it had been when she and her sisters had lived in the house. Games were stacked on the shelves to the right of the fireplace, and if she opened the closet, she’d find a few toys that Grams hadn’t wanted to give away.