by Beth Wiseman
Rose shook her head. “Nee, I don’t need anything, but danki for asking. Do you think you’ll be gone long? I’m going to mop the floors, and they’ll need time to dry.” Her voice held a rasp of excitement. She was probably still floating on a romantic cloud, hoping to hear from Benjamin soon. “It shouldn’t take long with this heat,” she went on. “Then I plan to read because I’m sure I’ll be hot from chores. I hope that’s okay. I work best when I take breaks in between. And if it’s not too hot, then I’ll—”
“Hon, you schedule your day however you see fit.” After interrupting Rose, Lizzie stood up and looked at Esther. “Are you ready?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Ya, ya. I’m ready.” Esther eased herself up, her knees putting up some opposition.
“Have a wonderful time, but be sure to stay hydrated. It’s hot out there.” Rose smiled as she turned to face them, holding a stack of breakfast dishes. “You can always stop to get lemonade, or—”
“We’ll be fine,” Lizzie said loudly over her shoulder as she made her way to the living room.
“Don’t worry,” Esther said to Rose before she rushed to catch up with Lizzie.
Once they were in the yard, Lizzie climbed into the driver’s side of the buggy. Esther winced. Lizzie drove too fast, but Esther stayed quiet and eased onto the other side of the seat. They’d debated whether or not to take the spring buggy, but they decided the covered buggy would keep the sun off of them. In their younger days, their choice would have been different.
Esther recalled the rides she and Joe used to take in the topless spring buggy when they were first courting, and even well into their forties. Even on a hot summer day, the warm wind slapping against their faces and the feel of the sunshine beaming down on them was rejuvenating. As they got older, they guarded themselves from the sun after Joe had his first skin cancer.
Esther bounced when one of the buggy wheels hit a pothole in the road. “Lizzie, that hole has been there for a very long time. But you always seem to hit it.”
Lizzie was silent. Esther hadn’t meant to start an argument, but it was unusual for her sister to remain quiet and not fire back some kind of retort.
“I know who sent you the flowers.” Lizzie shifted her teeth back and forth, then picked up speed. “Ya, I know who your, uh, admirer is.”
“Who?” Esther kept her eyes on Lizzie as her stomach swirled with anticipation. If it was someone they knew, it likely wasn’t a stalker. Esther disliked that word more and more. Stalker.
“It’s that man who sells homemade birdhouses in front of his haus.” The lines of concentration deepened across Lizzie’s forehead as she pressed her lips together. “I just can’t think of his name.”
Esther laughed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. His name is Johnny Hostetler, and I’m sure that man hasn’t taken a fancy to me.” Esther felt twenty years younger just hearing herself reject the idea.
“He was sweet on you last time we were there.” Lizzie gave a taut nod of her head, obviously deciding she had solved the mystery.
Ether shook her head, grinning. “The only thing that man was sweet on was the fact that I bought six birdhouses.” She cut her eyes at Lizzie. “For obvious reasons, Johnny wouldn’t be interested in me.” I can’t believe anyone would be.
Lizzie shot Esther a look of disgust. “Shame on you. Looks shouldn’t matter. He’s a nice fellow. And he lost Suzanne almost a year ago.”
“He’s barely five feet tall. I’m an Amazon compared to him.” She held up a palm toward her sister. “And ya, I know looks shouldn’t matter. But if he was interested in anyone, it would be you.”
“Why? Because I’m more size appropriate?”
They were quiet, then Esther burst out laughing. “This is all so silly. Let’s just go to the florist and ask who sent the flowers.”
Lizzie giggled. “I feel like a teenager. I remember when Reuben picked a bunch of wildflowers and brought them to me on our first real date.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”
Esther thought back to more youthful times too. “Ya, most men don’t bring flowers, but Joe gave me flowers once. I was mad at him about something.” She put a finger to her chin. “We were rarely cross with each other, and I don’t remember what we’d had words about. But I remember the red roses he gave me that evening.”
Lizzie eased the buggy into the small flower shop parking lot, then pulled back on the reins until they’d stopped completely. Turning to Esther, she said, “As long as the flower sender isn’t a stalker, it’s kind of exciting, isn’t it?”
Esther grinned. “Maybe a little.” They sat there quietly again. “But, Lizzie, I’m a seventy-four-year-old woman. This is just nonsense. Who in the world would want to be romantically involved with someone mei age?”
Lizzie hopped out of the buggy, but stuck her face in the window before Esther had moved. “A seventy-something man. That’s who.” Then she smiled wide, flashing her dentures, but not before giving them a little shuffle in her mouth. “Now let’s go ask Sarah Mae who your admirer is.”
Esther stepped out of the buggy with a quickening pulse. She appreciated Lizzie referring to the person as an admirer instead of that other word. But now that they were here, Esther was nervous to find out who wrote the note and sent the flowers.
Chapter 4
Sarah Mae was busy putting together an arrangement of red roses, and it took Esther back to her earlier thoughts about Joe, which brought forth a smile.
“Esther and Lizzie.” Sarah Mae set down a pair of scissors she’d been using to cut ribbon. “Wie bischt. In the market for flowers? You two usually have beautiful flower beds in full bloom this time of year.”
Sarah Mae was a tiny woman, like Lizzie, and also in her seventies. She’d owned the small flower shop for as long as Esther could remember.
“Someone sent Esther flowers,” Lizzie said in a whisper, even though there wasn’t anyone else in the shop. “With a love note attached. We want you to tell us who sent the flowers.” Lizzie set her small black purse on the counter and put her palms on the glass top. “We won’t tell that you told,” she said, still whispering.
Sarah Mae’s mouth fell open, and Esther could feel herself blushing. But she was as curious as Lizzie, probably more so, to find out who the person was.
“A love note?” Sarah Mae finally asked as she glanced back and forth between Esther and Lizzie.
“Do you have the note with you?” Lizzie turned to Esther and raised both eyebrows.
Esther was tempted to say no, but she slowly took the card from her purse, a black bag almost identical to Lizzie’s. She could feel the heat radiating from her face as she passed it to Sarah Mae.
“Ach, oh my.” Sarah Mae handed the card back without saying anything else.
Lizzie leaned forward a little. “Well?”
Sarah Mae couldn’t seem to lose the astonished expression on her face. Esther was sure her own face was burning an even brighter shade of red.
“I don’t know.” Sarah Mae pushed a small card about the same size as the love note toward Lizzie. “I handwrite my notes in print, like this one.” She tapped her card that read, To Hannah, Lieb, John. “The card you have is in cursive writing, and it’s all Englisch. Mei Englisch has never been gut when I’m writing. I write mostly in Deutsch for our people. If an outsider orders flowers, they usually have to spell out some of the words.” She pointed to the card in Esther’s hand. “That’s a fancy card with fancy Englisch.”
Lizzie gasped, turned to Esther, and locked eyes with her. But she quickly turned back to Sarah Mae. “Danki, Sarah Mae. See you Sunday at worship.” Then she latched on to Esther’s arm and practically dragged her out of the shop.
Once they were outside, Esther shook loose of her sister’s grip. “We should have thought this out. Sarah Mae will tell people.” Esther’s purse slipped from her wrist to the crook of her elbow as she covered her face in shame.
“Esth
er, look at me.”
When Esther uncovered her face, Lizzie glared at her. “We didn’t pick up on that important clue.” Lizzie stomped a foot before she started toward the buggy. As she untethered the horse, she shook her head.
Esther held a hand to her forehead to block the sun. “What are you talking about?”
“The note. Not one word is in Pennsylvania Deutsch. Whoever sent the flowers is Englisch. And the sender went to a fancy florist in the city, and that’s who wrote the note.” Lizzie shook her head, stepped into the buggy, and slammed the door. “It’s Gus.”
“It’s not Gus.” Esther rolled her eyes, but Lizzie was right about the perfect English.
Lizzie clicked her tongue and backed up the buggy. “It’s not one of our people. So let’s make a list of all the Englisch men you know who are widowers.” She glowered. “Or it could be a married man, or a divorced man.”
Esther was too shaken to think about outsiders she knew. The word stalker was back in her mind. “Let’s just go home. I don’t know many Englisch men. And by noon, it’s going to be too hot for us to be out.”
Lizzie sighed. “I guess you’re right. We can think on it at home.”
By the time they returned to the inn, Lizzie was yawning, and Esther was hungry since she hadn’t eaten much that morning. But they both kicked off their shoes at the door and went directly to the couch. Esther put her socked feet up on the coffee table, and Lizzie did the same. Both stayed quiet for a while. Lizzie had her chin cupped with one hand and her other arm folded across her stomach, obviously in serious contemplation.
Esther’s stomach growled, but she was enjoying the fan blowing in her face for the moment. She made a mental note to buy more batteries next time they went to town for supplies. The grandfather clock in the dining room rang eleven times, but then only the quiet buzz of the fans sounded in the house.
“It’s too quiet when Rose is gone.” Lizzie lowered her hand and yawned again.
Esther chuckled. “We complain about Rose’s chatter all the time, but you’re right. It’s too quiet without her here, especially when we don’t have any guests.”
“After she and Benjamin fall in lieb and Rose moves out, we better hope for more overnight guests, even in the summer.” Lizzie laid her head back against the couch cushion, then turned to Esther. “Where is she anyway?”
Esther pushed through a yawn, trying to decide which sounded better, lunch or a nap. “She said something yesterday about possibly visiting Big Roy and Katie Marie today since we don’t have anyone staying at the inn.”
“I wonder if she will tell them about her date with Benjamin.” Lizzie crossed one ankle over the other.
“I’m sure she will tell anyone who listens,” Esther said, then grinned. “It was nice to see her so happy.”
“I wonder if her whole family talks a lot.” Lizzie scratched her cheek, yawning again. “She’s got a bunch of bruders and schweschdere. I asked her not long after she got here why she left Ohio. She actually got quiet and just shrugged.”
“I remember you telling me that.” Esther lowered her feet to the floor, deciding food and a nap were in order soon. “But I see her putting letters to her family in the mailbox a couple of times a week, and there are always letters coming back to her from Ohio.” Esther stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “I need a sandwich and a nap.”
Lizzie slowly lifted herself from the couch. “I’ll skip the sandwich. I’m going straight to the nap.”
Esther made herself a ham sandwich and sat down at the kitchen table to eat, pondering what English man might have sent her flowers. She didn’t really know many single men who weren’t Amish. It didn’t matter in the big scheme of things. At her age, Esther wasn’t in the market for a romantic relationship, and she’d never love anyone the way she loved Joe.
Then she stopped chewing and straightened. She did know two English men who were unattached. One of them she saw every day, and the other one she saw once a week.
She put her sandwich down. “Hmm . . .”
* * *
Benjamin was dripping in sweat when he walked into the living room. Even with all the fans blowing, he wasn’t sure it was any cooler in the house.
“I’m in the kitchen!” his mother hollered, which was necessary above the noise from the fans.
He went straight to the refrigerator and took out the iced tea.
“After you cool off, can you check how much propane is left?” His mother sighed. “I’ve gone through every entry in your checkbook twice and compared it to your bank statement. I’m still two cents off.”
Benjamin filled his glass with ice, then tea. After he’d gulped down over half of it, he said, “Mamm, don’t worry about two cents.”
“It bothers me,” she said as she scratched her head.
“It doesn’t bother me.” He set his glass on the counter, thinking he might need a refill. “Any jobs today?”
“Two messages were on the answering machine. I wrote down the names and phone numbers. They’re in your office.”
It wasn’t really an office. It was a converted mudroom. But it worked for now. “Danki.” He headed that way, retrieved the messages, then went to the barn to return the calls, disappointed that both were minor repairs. He’d lost most of his regular customers when they moved from Bedford, but the move had seemed important to his mother. And they weren’t hurting for money. Benjamin had a hefty savings account he’d been building since he started his own business three years ago.
“Both jobs are scheduled for tomorrow,” he said when he walked back into the kitchen. He refilled his glass with tea. “I’ll be upstairs for a while.”
His mother had her head buried in his checkbook. “Ya, okay.”
Upstairs, he threw himself on the bed, arms spread wide, and closed his eyes. It was even hotter upstairs. But he’d insisted his mother take the only downstairs bedroom. August was going to be brutal. He hoped he would pick up some English business so he could work in the air-conditioning. Benjamin needed to advertise more. As he tried to think of different strategies, he kept seeing Rose’s face and recalled the soft fullness of her lips against his.
I’m such a cad. He’d allowed his physical desire to dominate over what was right. He should have never kissed her. Now he would have to face her at worship service. He wondered what she was thinking. Did she enjoy the kisses as much as he did? Why had she allowed it? Was she as attracted to him as he was to her?
Why did any of it matter? Their personalities were not a good fit. Benjamin worried he’d end up living with his mother forever. He could afford to purchase a home of his own, but he feared loneliness would consume him. His mother had already found a quilting group, volunteered at the food pantry in a neighboring town, and established herself within the community, all in only a couple of weeks. Benjamin ate, slept, and worked.
He wished things could have turned out differently with Rose.
* * *
When Rose returned from visiting her only relatives in Montgomery, she went straight to the barn to check for messages. She hadn’t even asked Benjamin if he had a cell phone. Rose didn’t, but he probably did for his work. He hadn’t asked her for a phone number. She would have given him the number at the inn. But it was only Monday. Maybe he didn’t want to appear too anxious. Just recalling the kisses they shared caused her stomach to swirl with anticipation. She’d see him at worship if she didn’t hear from him before Sunday. But that seemed unlikely based on the way their date had gone.
When she exited the barn, the mailman was just putting mail in the box. He always delivered the mail between two and two thirty. Rose headed toward him and waved. “Wie bischt, Mr. Holden.” She paused. “I mean, hello.”
Their mailman should have retired years ago. Rose had asked him about it once, and he’d said that with his wife deceased, he’d go crazy without seeing people. Harvey Holden was one of the nicest English men Rose had ever met. He always had a kind word, wished her a good
day, and listened to her talk about whatever was on her mind. Certainly, Mr. Holden would be polite and listen to all the thoughts rattling around in her mind today, but he would also be good practice for her. Don’t ramble, she reminded herself as she took a deep breath and reached inside the box for the mail.
Mr. Holden drove a small blue pickup truck, and he always wore one of several baseball caps.
“How are you today, Rose?” He had a crooked smile and enough wrinkles to resemble a road map, but his blue eyes were filled with kindness.
“I’m gut.” She bit her bottom lip, longing to tell him about her lengthy visit with Big Roy and Katie Marie. Mr. Holden surely knew them and would be interested in all the happenings going on in their life. They were going to be grandparents for the sixth time, and they were also planning a vacation to Florida soon. Maybe Mr. Holden knows those things already. Either way, she gave a quick wave and said, “Have a gut day.”
As she neared the house and Mr. Holden drove away, she saw Esther and Lizzie with their noses almost pressed against the windowpane. They both jumped back when they saw her.
“What are you two doing?” Rose put her hands on her hips, grinning.
Both women stiffened. “Nothing, dear,” Esther said before she cleared her throat. “Any mail for us?”
Lizzie didn’t move or speak. Rose was sure she’d interrupted something. “It looks like junk mail.” She handed over two flyers and decided to practice on Esther and Lizzie, even though she could be herself around them. All this not talking was bottling up like a fizzy soda about to burst. But she drew in a breath and blew it out slowly. “I’m going to do a little dusting upstairs.”
“Okay.” Lizzie grabbed Esther by the sleeve of her dress and dragged her toward Lizzie’s bedroom. “I need to have a chat with Esther.”