Taken for English (11 page)

“She has always made up stories of how she would like things to be rather than how they really are.”

“Why would her young man write to her if he did not share her feelings?”

“I can assure you my husband will put a stop to that.” Eva waved one hand. “Certainly you can see Leah does not have the maturity for that kind of relationship.”

Annie dug her fists into her hips. This was going nowhere. If Leah and her mother would have a reasonable, calm conversation, they might both learn some things about each other. “I only want to help. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

“You’re as naive as Leah. May God help you both to come to your senses.” Mrs. Deitwaller opened the door and tilted her head out toward the yard.

Annie stifled her response and marched, head up, out to Tom’s truck. Inside, she slammed the door.

Tom raised a questioning eye.

“In her eyes, I’ll always be taken for
English
. But she’s wrong.”

“Your young man was just here.” Mrs. Weichert bent at the waist to rearrange the assortment of Amish jams on the shelf nearest the counter.

Annie tucked her small purse on the shelf under the counter and pushed it to the back. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, but he offered to unload my truck.”

“I was going to do that.”

“I know.” Mrs. Weichert gave a slight smile. “He’s just waiting for you, dear. Check the alley.”

Annie hoped her
kapp
was on straight. She had slouched in Tom’s truck all the way back into town, sullen and silent. She crossed the length of the shop and went into the back room. The door to the alley was propped open, and a few seconds later Rufus stepped through with a pair of upholstered dining chairs.

He set them down. “Ah. You’re back. Mrs. Weichert was not sure why you were a few minutes late.”

“I should have come in earlier instead of wasting my time.” She scuffled toward the door. “Is there much more?”

He set the chairs beside a tower of six boxes. “This is the last of it. It’s all from an estate sale in Pueblo.”

“We almost always find a few things we can use.”

“Annalise, why did you say you wasted your time?” He stood with one hand on a chair.

She hesitated.

“I know Leah Deitwaller has been on your mind a lot.”

Annie idly stroked the faded fabric and settled her hand next to his. “If she is on her mother’s mind, you would never know it. I was just there. I’m worried about Leah, but now I’m starting to wonder if her parents could be charged with neglect.”

“Are you thinking of making such an allegation yourself?”

“No.” She looked up into his violet-blue eyes. “I’m just grateful that the first Amish woman I met was your mother and not Leah’s. We might not be standing here right now if it had been Eva Deitwaller.”

“I know you want to help.” He covered her fingers with his hand. “And I’m sorry if Leah’s mother was harsh with you.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “But I should mind my own business.”

“There may be more to the Deitwallers’ story than we know.”

“Or Leah may be a confused young woman who is doing something foolish, even dangerous. Shouldn’t somebody care?”

He squeezed her fingers, and she looked again at his face. His lips parted, as if he were about to tell her something. He closed them and moistened them without saying anything.

“Rufus, what’s wrong? I’m sorry. I haven’t been paying any attention to what might be bothering you.”

He shook his head. “I just need to work out some business matters.”

“A new project?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Something a little different. I’m not sure it’s right for me.”

Rufus tugged on her hand, removing it from the chair and pulling her toward him. He glanced into the shop and then out into the alley before tilting his head to her upturned face and letting his lips linger on hers.

Annie tingled from head to toe. Rufus hardly ever kissed her, certainly not in a place where someone might walk in.

At the moment, though, she did not care. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and deepened the kiss.

When her shift in the shop was over, Annie walked home and circled her house to the back porch. All afternoon she agitated first over Leah and then over Rufus. Leah was likely to do something rash—probably already had. Rufus likely had never made a rash decision in his life. But there was something he was not saying, something his kiss was meant to tell her.

Before going into the kitchen, Annie checked the small cupboard on the back porch where she kept a basket of garden vegetables. She could make herself a warm supper and have something waiting for Ruth later. And in the meantime, Annie would figure out what to do about Leah.

The basket was empty.

No, the basket was gone.

Ruth must have taken it inside
, Annie reasoned. Then she reminded herself that the basket had been there just that morning. Annie had picked green beans before flagging down Tom Reynolds, and Ruth had left for the clinic while Annie was still in the garden.

She turned around and surveyed the yard. Then she descended the three steps and paced over to the vegetable patch. The produce had been thinning for several weeks, but Annie was sure she had bypassed a zucchini plant and one beanpole this morning because she judged she could wait another day or two before picking.

Someone had raided her garden, and Annie was pretty sure she knew who it was.

She smiled. This meant Leah Deitwaller could not be far away.

Rufus pulled open the door of the trailer that housed Kramer Construction and stepped inside the office. Karl Kramer’s administrative assistant aimed her thumb toward the inner office, and Rufus stepped past her desk.

In the inner office, the foreman of Kramer Construction rose from behind Karl’s desk. “Thanks for coming by.”

“It is my privilege.” Rufus dipped his hat. “Do you have news from Karl?”

“He has asked me to handle things for a while.” The foreman gestured that Rufus should sit in the chair beside the desk.

Rufus widened his eyes. “A while? Is he well?”

“Karl is fine. He just decided to spend more time with his father in Virginia.”

“I thought perhaps the fire would bring him home.”

“He was angry, but that’s a matter for the insurance companies now. The buyers are not sure they want to build again, and their lawyer says that our failure to meet the contract date allows them to change their minds.”

“But surely under the circumstances—”

The foreman shook his head. “We’re all taking a hit on this, Rufus. I wanted to tell you in person that Karl is not planning to start any new projects over the winter. He wanted to be sure you knew it was nothing personal.”

A
nnie straightened the stack of hard-to-find books at the back of the shop, wiping dust from each volume with a cotton rag. Some gems came through the shop, but no one would ever know it unless they stumbled on a volume on a lark of a summer’s weekend. Soon the weather would turn cold, and fewer people would be happening on Westcliffe because they were out for a drive.

Once, Annie had mentioned to Mrs. Weichert that it would be an easy thing to set up a website and engage in e-commerce. If they listed with a few trade organizations and invested in some minimal online advertising, people looking for particular rare books could find the shop on the Internet. These books could go to interested buyers rather than get trucked to the Salvation Army in Pueblo, where who knows what happened to them next.

Mrs. Weichert had waved off the idea. She was content with her income and reasoned that dealers in the region knew where she was. If they couldn’t be bothered to drive out to her shop, then they must not be all that curious about her inventory in any given month.

Annie had to admit it was probably just as well. Living in Westcliffe for the last year, well away from her former high-tech life as an innovative software designer, had not completely quelled her entrepreneurial urges. But it was better for her not to be tempted to begin yet another business with computers at its heart.

With one last swipe of the rag, Annie resisted the urge to pick up a book with a faded red binding and open it. If it did not sell soon, though, she would ask for it. Its title promised a wealth of information on nineteenth-century population shifts in western Tennessee and Arkansas. In the last few months, Annie had developed a fascination with stories of people who had taken great risks that changed their lives. All the people she had known in Colorado Springs would have laughed at her curious interest, but she did not care. Wasn’t it better to take a risk than just let life happen to you by never wondering what else was out there?

“I’ll take those bags of clothes down to the thrift store now,” Annie said.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Weichert was counting bills at the cash register. “They’ll try to pay you, but I don’t want their money.”

One in each hand, Annie hefted two black plastic garbage bags by the knots tied at the tops.

Mrs. Weichert crossed the store and picked up the red volume Annie had been eyeing. She stuck it under Annie’s arm. “You might as well take this. I can tell you want to read it, and it will be next to impossible to sell.”

“Thank you.” It was not the first book Mrs. Weichert had stuck under Annie’s arm after finding her picking it up repeatedly during her shifts.

“You can go on home after that,” Mrs. Weichert said. “It looks like rain. No one will be coming in.”

“All right. Thanks.”

“Don’t forget you have tomorrow off. My daughter will be here to help.”

Mrs. Weichert held the door open, and Annie stepped out onto the sidewalk. They always took the clothes that turned up in Mrs. Weichert’s shop to the thrift store three doors down. Sometimes she bought the odds and ends of an estate sale, and getting the dishes or small furniture she wanted meant she also had to take old clothes.

Vintage
clothes, Annie had once corrected her employer. If they just set up one rack in the shop, she was sure they could sell them. Once again her entrepreneurial streak had raised its head, and once again Mrs. Weichert had no interest.

“What delights have you brought us today?” Carlene, perched on a stool behind the counter at the thrift store, raised her eyes and smiled.

Annie liked Carlene’s natural warmth. “I’m afraid I didn’t even look this time. I hope you find something worth your while.”

“I remember how you used to come in here for clothes when you first came to town. You had a good eye for value.”

Annie dropped the two bags behind the counter and gestured toward her Amish dress. “Now look at me.”

Carlene stood up and hit a button on the cash register. “Let me give you something to take to Mrs. Weichert.”

Annie raised both hands. “You know she won’t take it.”

“I’m not running a charity shop, you know.”

“Well, neither is she.” Annie scanned the shop. “Maybe I’ll have a look around for old time’s sake.”

“There’s some nice bedding in the back if you need any blankets for the winter.”