Hide in Plain Sight (3 page)

A faint smile flickered in his eyes. “‘For use, not for
pretty,’ she’ll say. Anything else might sound like pride.”

“That’s Emma, all right.” Nostalgia swept through her. Emma Zook had helped Grams in the house for years, and her sturdy figure, always clad in a long dress and apron, was present in Andrea’s earliest memories.

As children, they’d played with the Zook youngsters, so used to them that they never saw the Amish clothing or dialect as odd. She’d caught up a bit with Emma over breakfast. As she’d expected, all the children except Levi were married and parents by now. Levi—well, Levi would always be a child, no matter how old he was.

“The Amish have the right idea,” Cal said. “No reason why something can’t be both useful and beautiful.”

She traced the scalloped edge of the drop leaf. “This certainly qualifies.”

“Two compliments in as many minutes.” He drew back in mock surprise.

“I believe in giving credit where credit is due. You make lovely furniture. I just can’t help but wonder why you’re doing it in my grandmother’s barn.”

Where did you come from, and why are you here? That’s what she was really asking. How could this man have made such inroads into her family when she hadn’t even known about him?

He shrugged. “I came to this area to learn Amish furniture techniques. When I needed a place to set up shop, she had an empty barn. We came to an agreement.”

She’d like to ask what that agreement was, but he
could answer that it wasn’t her business. Which it wasn’t, but anything that affected her grandmother and sister mattered to her, whether she’d been back recently or not.

“You’re not from around here,” she tried.

“No. I’m not.”

Most people liked talking about themselves. Cal Burke seemed to be the exception.

“You’re a little hard to find. How do you market your work?”

He shrugged again. “There are plenty of machine-made copies out there, but if people are asking around for good, handmade furniture done in the old Amish style, they’ll find me or one of the others who do it.”

“That’s no way to do business.” His marketing strategy, if that’s what it was, exasperated her so much that she couldn’t stop the words. “You have something people want, so make it easy to find you. You could probably double or triple your business if you did a little advertising.”

“I don’t want to double my business. There are only so many pieces I can make by hand in a month, and they sell okay. What am I going to do with more customers than I can satisfy?”

She blinked, looking at him. As far as she could tell, he was serious. “If you hired a few people to help you—”

“Then it wouldn’t be my furniture people were buying.”

“But you could make more money—”

He shook his head with an impatient movement that made the hair flop in his eyes again. “I make enough
to get by, and I enjoy my work. Your corporate approach wouldn’t work for me.”

She stiffened. “If you mean I’m practical, I don’t consider that an insult. Although I suspect you meant it that way.”

“Just recognizing a difference in how we see things, that’s all.” His voice was mild, but his eyes had turned frosty. “If you came out here to tell me how to run my business, I thank you for your interest.”

“No.” She bit off the word. The world needed practical people like her. They kept the dreamers afloat. But she didn’t suppose it would do any good to tell him so. “My grandmother wants you to know that we’ll be going to the hospital shortly. She asks if you’ll keep an eye out for the painters and let them in.” Somehow it seemed important that he know the favor was for Grams, not her.

“I’d be glad to.”

“I thought she could call you, but she said you never answer your phone.”

“Really bugs you, doesn’t it?” His expression suggested internal laughter. “I don’t like to jump when the phone rings. If anybody wants me, they leave a message.”

She bit back another comment about his business methods. Or lack of them. Why should she care if the man frittered away his prospects for want of a few sensible steps?

“I see.” She kept her tone perfectly polite. “Thank you for taking care of the painters. My grandmother will appreciate it.”

She turned and walked away quickly, suspecting that if she looked back, she’d find an amused smile on his face.

“But I can’t. I really can’t.” Andrea looked from her grandmother to her sister. Both faces were turned toward hers, both expectant, waiting for an answer she couldn’t possibly give. “I’m extremely busy at work right now.”

“Surely your employer will give you the time off.” Grams was serenely confident. “Your family needs you.”

Rachel didn’t say anything. She just leaned back against the raised head of the hospital bed, her face almost as white as the pillow.

She’d tell herself they were ganging up on her, but that wasn’t true. They were depending on her, just as Rachel and baby sister Caroline had depended on her during those years when Mom had relocated the family from place to place, nursing her grudge against Grams and Grandfather and depriving her children of the only stable home they’d ever known.

Andrea was the oldest. She was the responsible one. She’d take care of it.

The trouble was, she was responsible to her job, as well, and there couldn’t possibly be a worse time for her to take off. Gordon Walker would not understand his right-hand woman requesting a leave to help her family. He hadn’t even taken time away from work when his wife was in labor with their twins.

Of course, he and his wife were now divorced, and he saw his daughters once a month if he was lucky.

She tried again. “I’m in the middle of a very important project, and I’m on a deadline. I couldn’t take time off now. It wouldn’t be fair to the company.”

It wasn’t fair to her, either. Maybe that thought was unworthy, but she couldn’t help it. The promotion her boss had been dangling in front of her for the past year would be hers when this project was completed. Her position with the company, her stable, secure life, would be assured.

“Can’t someone else take over for you?” Grams’s brow furrowed. “We’ve already accepted reservations for our opening weekend. All the rooms are booked. We can’t turn those people away now.”

Grams’s sense of hospitality was obviously offended at the thought, even though these would be paying guests. Andrea could see it in her eyes. An Unger didn’t let people down.

I’m a Hampton, too. She thought bleakly of her father. They’re pretty good at letting people down.

Rachel tried to push herself up on the bed a little, wincing, and Andrea hurried to help her.

“Take it easy. I don’t think you should try to do that on your own. Those casts must weigh a ton.”

“If they don’t, they feel like it.” Rachel moved her head restlessly on the pillow.

Looking into Rachel’s eyes was like looking in a mirror. Green eyes, cat’s eyes. All three Hampton girls had them, even though otherwise they didn’t look at all alike.

She was the cool, conservative blonde. That was how people saw her, and she didn’t find anything wrong with that. It fit with who she wanted to be.

Rachel, two years younger, was the warm one, with her heart-shaped face and her sunny-brown hair. She had the gift of making friends and collecting strays everywhere she went. Sweet, generous, she was the family peacemaker, always the buffer.

And they’d needed a buffer, she and Caroline. Her youngest sister had been born an exotic orchid in a family of daisies. She certainly looked the part. In her, the green eyes sparkled and shot fire. Her hair, a rich, deep red, had been worn in a mass of curls to below her shoulders the last time Andrea had seen her. Currently, as far as she knew, Caroline was making pottery in Taos. Or maybe it was turquoise jewelry in Santa Fe. Andrea couldn’t keep up.

“I could come home in a wheelchair. We could get some extra help and I could supervise.” But the tears that shone in Rachel’s eyes belied the brave words, and she thumped one hand against the side rail of the bed, making the IV clatter.

“Honey, don’t.” Andrea caught the restless hand, her heart twisting. “It’ll be all right.”

But how would it be all right? How could she be true to herself and yet not let them down?

Rachel clung to her, much as she had when Mom had taken them away from Grams and Grandfather so many years ago. “You mean you’ll do it?”

“We’ll find some way of handling the situation. I promise.”

Rachel gave a little sigh, relaxing a bit, though worry still puckered her brows.

“Good,” Grams said. “I knew we could count on you.”

She’d told her boss she couldn’t be back until Monday, though she’d continue working while she was here. She was only a phone call or an e-mail away, after all. By then, she’d somehow convince Grams and Rachel that with Rachel laid up for who knows how long, starting a bed-and-breakfast didn’t make sense.

A glance at Rachel’s face assured her that now was not the time to mention that. Rachel was far too fragile.

She’d discuss it with Grams later. Giving up the inn was the best thing for everyone, especially Rachel. Once she was healed, she could get another restaurant job in a minute with her skills, and if she needed help to get through until then, Andrea or Grams would certainly provide that.

Right now she had to do something to wipe that strained expression from Rachel’s eyes. “Did you hear about my adventure getting here last night? Rescued from a ditch by your handsome tenant. Hope you don’t mind my using your car while mine’s in the body shop.”

“Grams told me Cal brought you to the hospital. He is a hunk, isn’t he?” Some of the tension eased out of the pale face. “So, you interested, big sis?”

“I wouldn’t want to tread on your territory.” She smiled. “We made a deal a long time ago, remember? No boyfriend poaching.”

“Sad to say, Cal doesn’t see me as anything but little-sister material.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have to admit, when I first met him, I thought there might be something, but the chemistry just isn’t there.”

Andrea didn’t bother to analyze why she was
relieved. “I understand he’s been around for about a year?” She made it a question for both of them.

“Just about,” Grams agreed. “He stayed over at the Zimmerman farm for a while, I think, when he first came to the area.”

“You never mentioned renting the barn to him when we talked.” Grams and Rachel had come into the city for dinner just a month ago, but in all their talk about the inn, they hadn’t brought up their resident tenant.

“Didn’t we? I thought you knew about him.”

The vagueness of it got under her skin. “Where did he come from? What did he do before? What does Uncle Nick think of him?” Her grandfather’s business partner had a solid, no-nonsense attitude that Grams lacked.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?” Grams frowned a little, as if Andrea had said something impolite. “And it’s not James Bendick’s business.”

Rachel moved slightly. “He’s a nice guy. That’s all we need to know.”

It wasn’t all
she
needed to know. Perhaps the truth was that Grams hadn’t mentioned him because she’d known exactly the questions Andrea would ask and didn’t want to answer them. Grams did things her own way, and she’d never appreciated unsolicited advice.

“I believe I’ll get some coffee.” Grams stood, picking up her handbag.

“I’ll get it for you, Grams,” she offered.

Her grandmother shook her head. “You stay here and talk to Rachel. I want to stretch my legs a bit.”

Andrea watched her leave, her heart clutching a little.
Grams wouldn’t admit it, but she was slowing down. Grams had always been so strong, so unchanging, that age had sat lightly upon her. It had seemed she would never let it get the better of her. But that had been an illusion.

A weight settled on Andrea’s shoulders. She had to make the right decisions now. Rachel, Grams—she was responsible for both of them.

“Are you okay, Dree?”

She shook off the apprehension before she turned to look at her sister. “Sure. Just worried about you. Did the police talk to you about the accident?”

Rachel nodded. “The township chief was in before you got here. It doesn’t sound as if they have much evidence. He wanted to know if I remembered anything.”

“Do you?”

Rachel moved restlessly. “I don’t remember anything that happened after about noon yesterday.”

C
al let himself in the side door of the Unger mansion, toolbox in hand. He’d told Katherine that he’d fix the loose post on the main staircase, but that wasn’t his only reason for being there.

He’d been mulling it over, praying about it, most of the day. Prayer was still new enough to him that he wondered sometimes whether he ought to be asking for guidance about simple everyday things. Still, it was comforting to feel that Someone cared.

And this wasn’t a selfish thing. He wanted a sense of whether he should speak to Andrea about her grandmother. Seemed to him the answer was yes, although that might just be his need to do something.

Two years ago, he’d have found it laughable to think he’d be so concerned about an elderly woman who wasn’t even a relative, but he hadn’t been much of a human being, either, back then. Now—well, he cared about Katherine Unger.

Katherine was kind, proud and too stubborn to ask for help even when she needed it. She’d be appalled, probably, if she realized how much he’d learned about
her concerns just by listening. If she knew he intended to talk to Andrea, she’d be outraged.

But someone had to. Emma Zook could, but she might be too much in awe of Katherine to do it. So he would. He reached the stairs and pulled out a hammer. He’d been watching for an opportunity to speak to Andrea alone since she’d returned from the hospital, but she’d been holed up in the second-floor family quarters. Maybe a little noise would draw her out.

Sure enough, it didn’t take more than a few hearty blows with the hammer before Andrea appeared at the top of the stairs, looking annoyed. She marched down to him.

“What are you doing?” She’d exchanged the pants and jacket she’d been wearing this morning for a pair of dark jeans and a green top that matched her eyes. “I’m trying to do some work upstairs.”

“Sorry. You brought work with you?”

“Of course. I couldn’t just walk out in the middle of the week.”

Even when rushing to her sister’s side, she hadn’t left the job that seemed so important to her. She reminded him of himself, the way he used to be. That probably went a long way toward explaining why she annoyed him so much. He wasn’t too fond of that guy.

He rested his elbow on the banister. “Wouldn’t your boss give you a break under the circumstances?”

For a moment she hesitated, and he could almost read her thoughts. She had the kind of superior who wouldn’t, as a matter of fact, and she didn’t want to admit it.

“I didn’t ask,” she said finally. “I have respon
sibilities, and I meet them.” She frowned. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Katherine asked me to take care of this loose place in the banister.” He wiggled the carved wood gently, mindful of its delicate reeding. “I had time to get to it this afternoon.”

“I didn’t realize you work for my grandmother.”

“I don’t. I’m just being neighborly.” He still hadn’t figured out the best approach. “Look, I know this is none of my business—”

“But it’s not going to stop you,” she finished for him. “All right. You won’t be content until you have your say, so get it over with.” She planted one hand on the railing, standing up a step so that their faces were level.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“I try not to.” A slight frown appeared between her brows. “Does that bother you?”

“On the contrary, it makes it easier.” If she wanted it straight from the hip, she’d get it. “Your grandmother and sister have been running themselves ragged, trying to get the inn ready. They needed help even before Rachel was hurt, but now it’s worse. With Rachel in the hospital, your grandmother shouldn’t be in the house alone. Did she tell you she’s spotted a prowler out in the grounds recently?”

She sent him a startled glance, hand tightening on the railing. “No. Did she call the police?”

“By the time they got here, the person was long gone.” He shrugged. “They didn’t take it too seriously, figuring it was just someone curious about the inn. Still,
there have been some minor incidents of vandalism in the area lately and a few break-ins. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on things. But she shouldn’t be staying here at night by herself.”

“You’re right about that.” She sounded faintly bewildered that she was agreeing with him. “As for the rest, I’m not sure how best to help her.”

He was surprised that she was taking it so well, but perhaps she’d been giving some thought to the problem. She just hadn’t come to the right conclusion yet.

“Move in, take over for Rachel, get the inn up and running,” he said promptly. “Your grandmother can’t do it by herself.”

“My job—”

“—can get along without you for a while.”

“You don’t know that.” If her glare had been a blow, it would have knocked him over. “I’d be risking a lot to stay here now.”

“I get it. I had bosses like that once.” He had a feeling he’d
been
that kind of a boss.

“Then you should understand. Maybe I can hire someone to help out.”

He shook his head. “I’m not saying more workers wouldn’t make things go faster, but what’s needed is someone to oversee the whole project. Your grandmother isn’t up to that anymore.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She fired up instantly. “She shouldn’t be attempting something so ambitious at her age. She ought to just relax and enjoy life.”

“How is she supposed to do that? What’s she going
to live on, air?” He clamped his mouth shut. He’d gone too far, even though his intentions were good.

“What are you implying?” She grabbed his arm to keep him from stepping away. “My grandmother doesn’t need to worry about money.”

Was she putting on a front?

“Maybe you ought to have a serious conversation with your grandmother.”

Her grip tightened. “Tell me what you meant. What do you know, or think you know?”

Fine, then. “I know I offered to lend her the money for the renovations, but she took out a loan on the house instead. I know Emma works for free half the time. I know the signs of financial trouble. If someone doesn’t step in, namely you, your grandmother could lose this place that means the world to her.”

He yanked his arm free and grabbed the toolbox.

“I’ll come back later and fix this.”

Andrea was actually shaking. She watched Cal’s broad back as he retreated down the hall. She should talk to Grams—no, she should find out first from someone she trusted if there was any truth to Cal’s allegations. Emma. Emma knew everything that went on here.

But even as she thought it, there was a tap on the front door, followed by a quick, “Anyone here?”

“Uncle Nick.” She hurried to the door, to be swept into a hug. Soft whiskers and a scent of peppermint—that was Uncle Nick.

He held her at arm’s length. “Well, if you’re not a sight
for sore eyes, Andrea. You’re looking beautiful, as always.”

“And you’re the biggest flatterer in town, as always. You haven’t aged a bit.”

She made the expected response automatically, but it was true. Maybe the beard and hair were a little whiter, his figure in the neat blue suit just a bit stouter, but his cheeks were still rosy and firm as apples. He had an aura of permanence and stability that was very welcome.

“Ah, don’t tell me that. I know better.” He shook his head. “This is a sad business about Rachel.”

She linked her arm with his. “She’s going to make a complete recovery—the doctors have promised. Come into the library. We have to talk.”

He lifted bushy white eyebrows. “Where’s your grandmother?”

“Taking a nap, thank goodness. She needs one, after yesterday’s upsets.”

He nodded, glancing around the room and taking in the computer setup and file cabinets. “It’s sad to see this fine old room turned into an office. What your grandfather would have said, I don’t know.”

There didn’t seem to be an answer to that. She gestured him to a chair, sitting down opposite him.

He was surveying her with shrewd, kind blue eyes. “You’re worried, aren’t you? Tell Uncle Nick about it.”

She had to smile. He wasn’t really their uncle, nor was his name Nick. Caroline had called him that when she was three because to her eyes, James Bendick, Grandfather’s junior partner, looked like St. Nicholas.

“That’s what you always said. And you solved our problems with chocolate and peppermints.”

“It’s a good solution.”

“Not for this problem.” The worry, dissipated for a moment in the pleasure of seeing him, weighed on her again. “Tell me the truth, Uncle Nick. Is Grams in financial trouble?”

“Who told you that? Not your grandmother.” His voice had sharpened.

“No. Cal Burke told me. He seems to think she could lose the house.”

“I’d call that an exaggeration.” He frowned. “And I’m not sure what business it is of his, in any event.”

“Never mind him. Tell me what’s going on. I thought Grandfather left her well-off. I’ve never questioned that.”

“Your grandmother never questioned it, either. Sad to say, maybe she should have.”

“But the properties, his investments…” She couldn’t believe it. “Explain it to me.”

Uncle Nick’s lips puckered. “I’m not sure I should. Your grandmother—”

“Grams is depending on me.” Normally she’d appreciate his discretion, but not now. “I have to know what’s wrong in order to help her.”

He hesitated, looking distressed. Finally he nodded. “Your grandfather decided, a few years before his death, to sell most of his properties. He didn’t want to take care of them.”

“I thought he enjoyed that.” One of her earliest memories was of riding along with Grandpa when he went out the first day of every month to collect the
rents from his tenants. That had been her first taste of business, and she’d wanted to be just like him.

Uncle Nick shrugged. “People change. He wanted to invest the money himself.” His gaze dropped. “He wasn’t very good. If only he’d held on to the property until the real estate market went up, your grandmother would be sitting pretty.”

“As it is…” She could hardly take it in. Still, she’d certainly known how determined Grandpa was to do as he chose. Something chilled inside her. She, of all people, knew just how stubborn he could be.

“She has this place left, but not enough to maintain it.” His voice was brisk, as if he didn’t want to dwell on what had been. “I’m not sure how you feel about this idea of theirs to turn the place into an inn.”

“I think it’s a bad move,” she said promptly. “Rachel is a great cook, but she doesn’t know anything about running an inn. And Grams doesn’t need the stress at her age.”

Nick beamed at her as if they were the only two sensible people left on earth. “The practical course is for your grandmother to sell. She could pay off the home equity loan she took for the renovations and have enough to live very comfortably for the rest of her life.”

“I wish she agreed.”

He nodded. “She has her own stubborn streak, that’s for sure. I was worried about her living here alone since your grandfather died, but she’d never listen to me. It was a little better after Rachel moved back, but even so…”

“Cal Burke is out at the barn.” With the phone he never answered. What good did that do?

“Burke.” He repeated the name. “I suppose he’s better than nothing, but what do we know about him?”

Not much. She shared his concern.

“And there have been a rash of thefts. People breaking into isolated farmhouses. You know what this area is like—folks have lived here for generations, never giving a thought that Great-aunt Eva’s dough box might be worth a small fortune to a crooked dealer.”

She almost wished she hadn’t asked, but it was better to face the facts, no matter how unpleasant.

“What are we going to do?” It was good to feel that she had an ally. “Rachel and Grams want me to stay and open the inn. They don’t seem to understand that I have a position I can’t walk away from.”

He patted her hand. “If you make it clear you can’t, they’d have to face facts.”

“I’ve tried. Without success.”

“You’ll have to keep trying.” He rose. “Give my best to your grandmother, and tell Rachel that I’ll see her later.” He gave her a quick hug. “I know you’ll do the right thing. You always do.”

“Can I carry that for you, Andrea?”

Andrea stopped reluctantly. She’d noticed Cal down the block when she’d left Snyder’s General Store to walk back to the house, but she hadn’t been eager to talk to him. Just because he was right about her grandmother’s finances didn’t mean she had to like it.

He caught up with her, and she handed over the shopping bag, taking in the dress shirt and neat gray slacks he wore. She blinked, exaggerating her surprise.

“You didn’t know I’d clean up this well, did you?” He smiled, apparently ready to forgive and forget.

“Have a hot date?”

“No, just out for supper at the Dutch Inn. It’s chicken and dumpling night. What about you?”

She gestured toward the bag he now carried. “Grams needed a few things from the store, and I didn’t want to drive to New Holland to the supermarket.”

“So you went to Snyder’s, where you get a hot serving of gossip with every bag of groceries.”

She couldn’t stop a smile. “Some things never change.”

“Did you get the latest popular opinion on who I am and why I’m here?”

She was surprised that he spoke so easily about it. “Opinion is divided. You’re either a famous author hiding from a deranged fan or a bank robber sitting on his loot until it cools off. That one came from Etta Snyder’s ten-year-old son. Her teenage daughter considers you a tragic figure recovering from a terrible loss.”

She felt a sudden qualm. What if any of them proved true?

But he didn’t seem affected. “I’ll let you guess which it is.” They walked past the Village Soda Shop and Longstreet’s Antiques, their steps matching. “Did you get the whole scoop from Bendick? I saw him come in.”

She stiffened. Her family troubles weren’t his affair. Didn’t he understand that?

His eyebrows lifted. “Okay. Right. I’m interfering.”

She fought with herself for a moment. Interfering.
Aggravating. But he already knew, so who was she kidding by refusing to answer him?