“For now.” Elsa-May sat in her usual chair and fished her knitting out of the bag by her feet, and Snowy gave up his sniffing expedition and curled up in his dog bed in the corner.
“Cup of hot tea?” Ettie asked.
“That would be lovely, denke.”
“Nee, I meant for you to get it.”
Elsa-May looked over the top of her knitting glasses to see Ettie holding up the walking stick, then she groaned. “Okay, I’ll get it.”
“Denke.” Ettie smiled, pleased with herself.
When Elsa-May had pushed herself to her feet, she glared at Ettie. “I don’t think you need that walking stick anymore. You walk quite well without it.”
“I do. I definitely do.”
Elsa-May gave a little nod and walked to the kitchen.
Ettie rested her head back onto the couch, closed her eyes, and stifled a giggle. She didn’t need the walking stick anymore, but she’d hold onto it for just a little longer. It really was a very nice walking stick.
Threadly Secret
Book 21 Ettie Smith Amish Mysteries
Copyright © 2019 by Samantha Price
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter 1
“This house hates us!” Matilda held out her thumb to her mother. “See?”
Kate Roberts stared at her daughter, not pleased with her outburst. After all, the bishop and his wife were visiting, and she’d warned Matilda to be on her best behavior. As usual, it had fallen on deaf ears. “Matilda, did you say hello to Bishop Paul and Mrs. Beiler?”
“Hello, Bishop Paul and Mrs. Beiler.” Matilda’s tone suggested she was disinterested. She hadn’t wanted to move and leave her friends behind and she’d already told her mother she had no desire to make new ones.
The bishop smiled, his silver beard moving along with his mouth as he did so. “Hello, Matilda.”
Matilda gave a quick smile back, and then turned to glare at her mother with her thumb stuck in the air. “Don’t you care about my thumb?”
“Give me a look,” Kate said.
Matilda took two more steps until she was close enough for her mother to inspect her thumb. Kate didn’t even need to look at the injury. It had to be another splinter from her bedroom door frame. Gabriel had said he’d renovated the place, so she couldn’t insult him and tell him about the splinters. Especially not when he was allowing them to stay there for free. Kate grasped her daughter’s hand and held it up to the light. “Ach, it’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
Matilda’s freckled nose wrinkled. “It’s a splinter from this dumb haus.”
Now Kate was embarrassed. This wasn’t good. “It’s not a splinter. There’s nothing in it. It’s just a tiny scratch.” They’d think she was a bad mother who hadn’t raised her child properly. The truth was, Matilda had always been difficult and it had nothing to do with how she’d been raised. That would make no difference to Bishop Paul and Mary whose children were probably perfectly behaved at all times—all fifteen of them.
The bishop chuckled. “A haus can’t be dumb because it’s not a living thing.”
Matilda looked around the room. “This one’s different. It feels like it’s alive and wants us to leave.”
Kate held her breath.
“Ach nee,” the bishop’s wife said with a laugh. “There’s no such thing as a living haus.”
Fixing a smile on her face, Kate straightened Matilda’s dress. “She’s always had such a vivid imagination.”
Matilda pushed her mother’s hand away and walked over to Mary, the bishop’s wife. “How old are you? You don’t really look old but you must be because your husband’s hair is gray and your—”
Kate flew to her feet. “Have you finished packing your things away in your room yet, Matilda?”
“I’m talking to Mrs. Beiler.”
“Excuse me,” Kate said to her guests as she grabbed Matilda’s hand. She then led her to her bedroom. Once they were out of earshot, Kate hissed, “Stay there until they go.”
“What about my thumb? Don’t you care?”
“It’s fine. Be quiet for now. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
Matilda’s lips turned down at the corners and Kate closed the door. Then she returned to her guests. Sitting down, she said, “I’m sorry about that. She’s got a thing about knowing people’s ages these days.”
“It’s just a stage she’s going through. They all go through them.” Mary smiled kindly.
“Yes.” Kate picked up her teacup and took another sip. She so wanted to fit into the new community. It was meant to give her and Matilda a new start. In their old community, it became difficult the way everyone looked at her after what had happened to her husband. No one had said anything to her, but she knew what they’d been thinking.
“Are you going to the fair tomorrow?” Mary asked.
“I am. I was too late to enter one of my quilts into the competition. I was going to do it just for fun.”
“Greta said you make fine quilts.”
“Greta?” the bishop inquired.
“Greta O’Toole is the lady who runs one of the best quilt stores in town. She also organizes the county fairs too, as well as selling a lot of quilts for our ladies to the tourists.”
“Ah, well I wouldn’t know. I don’t go to quilt stores so often.” He chuckled. “Or any stores, if I can help it. I leave that up to Mary.”
“I hope to put quilts in Greta’s store on consignment,” Kate told him. “I’d heard about her store even before I got here.”
He nodded to his wife, and then said to Kate. “How are you set for money?”
The bishop’s question took her by surprise. “Oh. I’m doing okay. We have money from the sale of the house, and my quilt money will keep us going. I’ve been blessed to be given this house to live in for a few months. Thank you for putting me in touch with Gabriel. I think we’ll be happy here until I find somewhere permanent.”
“Jah, Gabriel is a gut man. We have a fund if you ever need anything.” Bishop Paul wagged a finger at her. “Don’t keep silent.”
She smiled at the kindly man. “I will remember that. Thank you.”
Bishop Paul drained the last of his hot tea and then placed the teacup down. “We should go, Mary.”
Mary suddenly rose to her feet. “Denke for the tea and the cake. I’ll see you at the fair tomorrow.”
“Yes, I’ll see you there.”
When the bishop and his wife left. Kate sank into the couch and held her head. It had gone well. They both seemed to like her and she liked them too. Not ready to hear her daughter’s high-pitched voice just yet, complaining about anything from a small scratch to missing her friends, she closed her eyes enjoying the silence that she knew would be temporary. All she heard was the sound of a distant car and two birds chirping. Then a multitude of birds flew overhead and their chirps rang out. She listened harder and heard the different songs of the different birds twittering their happy tunes from nearby trees. Then ... she heard some very different sounds from outside.
A woman’s voice said, “The bishop’s gone already.”
Then another one answered, “I know. I can see that. What’s your point, Ettie?”
“My point is, after we give her this chocolate cake we shouldn’t stay too long.”
“I’m not the one who overstays their welcome.”
Kate jumped to her feet and looked out the window. Two elderly Amish women were making their way toward the house. Since Kate saw no buggy in sight, these two had to be her neighbors from next door. Gabriel had told her about them. They hadn’t been at home the previous day when Gabriel had helped her and Matilda move in.
She moved to the door and opened it.
The bigger of the two women moved i
n front of the smaller one blocking her way. “Ah, you must be Kate.”
“I am and you two must be—”
The woman who was behind came forward. “I’m Ettie and this is my sister, Elsa-May.”
“We live in the house next door,” Elsa-May said, grinning. “And we’ve made you a chocolate cake.”
Ettie held out the cake toward her and Kate took it. It looked high enough to be a three-layer cake. “Oh, how lovely. Would you like to come in and have some with me?”
“We’d be delighted.” Elsa-May moved into the house.
“Come through to the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on. It won’t take long because it’s already boiled.” Kate was pleased to get to know these ladies. Gabriel had told her that they’d be able to introduce her to the other ladies.
While they waited for the kettle to boil, and Kate was busy cutting the cake, Matilda appeared. “Hello,” she said looking at their two guests.
“Hello,” the two sisters chorused.
Then her gaze drifted to the cake. “Wow, Mama! Look at the cake. Can I have a piece?”
“If you sit down and be quiet while the adults talk, you can. This is my daughter, Matilda. And, Matilda this is … oh, I only know your first names.”
“I’m Mrs. Lutz, and this is my sister, Mrs. Smith.”
“Did you bring the cake?” Matilda asked them as she sat on the spare chair.
“We did. I baked it,” Ettie told her.
“And I made the frosting,” Elsa-May added.
“I like the frosting the best.” Matilda stared into Ettie’s face and then looked at Elsa-May.
Kate saw her looking at them and feared the worst, guessing what she was about to say. “Matilda, take your cake and eat it in the living room.”
“By myself?”
“Nee, she’s perfectly okay here,” said Elsa-May.
It only took a couple more seconds for Matilda to ask the question. “How old are you, Mrs. Smith?”
Kate held her breath and didn’t know what to say. Even though she told Matilda not to ask people their ages, it went in one ear and out the other.
“I’m very old, but not as old as Mrs. Lutz.” Ettie giggled and then took a sip of tea.
“Are you the oldest?” Matilda asked Elsa-May.
“That’s right. The oldest and the wisest. I’m like a wise old owl.”
Matilda smiled, seeming satisfied and stuck her fork into the chocolate frosting.
“I’m sorry about that,” Kate said, relieved that the two ladies didn’t seem to mind, “she has to know everything.”
Matilda finished her mouthful and then looked at Elsa-May. “Are you like a hundred, or more?”
Kate jumped up and took hold of Matilda’s plate of cake. “You can finish this in the living room.”
“But—”
“No buts.” After she’d taken her daughter out to the other room, she sat down with the ladies. “I’m sorry about that. She just thinks she needs to know everything.”
“No need to be sorry,” Ettie said.
Elsa-May nodded. “I know some other people like that.”
Ettie narrowed her eyes at her sister. Then she turned her attention to Kate. “We just saw the bishop and Mary leaving and they said you have a quilt to enter into the fair.”
“No. I don’t. I wanted to, but I only arrived yesterday and found out I was too late. Greta wouldn’t take a late entry. She said something about it not being fair to the ladies who’ve been sewing for the fair for a whole year.”
“Ettie’s only talking about the fair because it’s her way of boasting that she’s going to be one of the judges.”
“You’re judging the quilts, Ettie?”
“Nee. The cookies.”
“Oh, that is exciting. You’ll get to taste them all.”
“I am looking forward to it. Where did you come from, Kate?”
Kate’s heart beat faster. She had to remember to be vague each time she answered this question. “I come from a small community in Wisconsin, near Hillsboro.”
“Ah, then you’d know Harold and Janet Palmer? They’re friends of mine. I write to them all the time.”
Kate’s mouth went dry. “I’m not sure. I must admit my husband and I dropped out of the community for a while. We were only back in six months when he had the accident. We weren’t fully accepted after we left and then came back, and that’s why I felt it best to move on.”
“We’re very sorry,” Elsa-May said. “Both Ettie and I have lost our husbands.”
“When did they go missing?” Matilda had appeared in the doorway.
Ettie smiled at the young girl. “My sister means that they both died.”
“Oh.” Matilda looked down at her plate of cake.
Elsa-May continued to speak to Kate, “Jah, we know what it’s like and with the little one it can’t be easy.”
Kate shook her head. “It hasn’t been the best.”
“There are a lot of children here your age, Matilda. You’ll make friends in no time.”
Matilda took two steps into the room. “I like my old friends. Mama said we had to leave because—”
Kate flew to her feet. “I really think you need to eat that in the living room while the adults talk in here.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Matilda turned around and moved into the other room.
“Ach, she’s so sweet,” Ettie whispered to Kate.
“Sometimes,” Kate answered. “Other times, she’s not the easiest child to manage.”
“Gabriel said he’s taking us all to the fair tomorrow. I’ll have to be there early if you don’t mind.” Ettie smiled at Kate.
Elsa-May shook her head. “It’s her way of bragging about being the cookie judge, again.”
“It’s not and I wouldn’t brag. I’m honored that they chose me. I’ve never judged anything before and I do like cookies.”
“This cake is delicious,” said Kate. “Are your cookies this good too, Ettie? Is that why they chose you to be a judge?”
“It’s not for me to say.”
“She’s a good cook,” Elsa-May admitted. “That’s why they asked her, but there’s more than one judge. There are three.”
Ettie narrowed her eyes at Elsa-May. “I’m happy to be one of the three. That way, three opinions are had and three are better than one.”
“Who’s judging the quilts?”
“Ah, the quilts are always judged by our local councilman, Martin Cruise.”
“A man?”
“Yes.”
“Why’s that?”
Ettie and Elsa-May looked at one another. “We’re not sure,” Elsa-May said.
“It’s always been that way,” Ettie added.
“I thought they would’ve been judged by someone who’s an experienced quilter ... unless he quilts?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Elsa-May said.
“Hmm. I don’t mean to be critical from the moment I arrive, but surely there should be two or three judges who are quilters and have sewed them and been around them for years. I mean … just one person judging the quilts knowing nothing about them seems wrong. Don’t you think?”
“That’s right,” Elsa-May said. “I agree it does seem odd now you mention it.”
“And it doesn’t seem fair. His taste would come into account. What if he likes bright colors and dismisses all the muted quilts? I say there should be two or three people because surely one person would have their own preferences and other judges would balance things out.”
“I think Greta would’ve given him some pointers,” Ettie said. “And, after judging for years, he should know what to look for.”
“Or, does she tell him what to choose?” Kate asked.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Ettie said.
“All the same, if the same person judges them all the time, won’t the ladies start sewing the types of quilts he’s fond of? They’ll work out his taste.”
Ettie nodded. “That makes sense.
I guess it’s Greta who’s made that decision, to make him the judge, because she’s the organizer. You do make some good points.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not my place to say anything, being a newcomer.”
“Yes, you should speak your opinion and not hold back. It’s certainly a good point, but most of the ladies who could be judges have entered their quilts in the fair.”
However this town and community did things, Kate knew she wouldn’t be the one to change things. She had to keep under the radar and do her best to blend in. Kate smiled at the ladies. “Perhaps that’s why they’ve got him to be a judge then.”
Ettie stared at Kate. She appeared to be in her early forties. Old for a typical Amish mother of a ten-year-old and to have only one child was also a little unusual with most families having between six and up to twelve or more children. Ettie had heard Kate's husband had died within the past year. “Gabriel said he’s taking all of us to the fair tomorrow. We’ll need to be early if that’s okay.”
“Jah, Ettie, you’ve already told her you need to be there early because you’re one of the cookie judges.”
Kate said, “We’ll be ready early tomorrow morning, Ettie. Matilda always wakes at first light.”
“We should go, Elsa-May, it’s getting late.”
After they said their final goodbyes, Ettie and Elsa-May walked back to the house wondering if Kate knew there had been in a murder in the house. Had Gabriel told her? Surely, he had.
Chapter 2
“Kate seems nice,” Elsa-May commented as they walked back into their house. “The house next door feels so different now that Kate and young Matilda are there. It made me almost forget those neighbors we had before.”
“Jah, I was just thinking the same. She’ll only be there temporarily. What we need when they move out is some nice folks, who’ll look after the garden and care for the place.”
“Kate’s got her hands full with Matilda.”
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