Nora sighed. “On the one hand, we didn’t join the Old Order, so this matter is none of our business—”
“But I can assure you that my brother Ben would want to know about these goings-on,” Luke interrupted her. “I feel it’s our responsibility to share our suspicions with him. If Cornelius has been playing fast and loose with the district’s money—”
“We don’t know that,” Drew chimed in. “I just had a funny feeling when I overheard his phone conversation. Maybe we should verify our suspicions somehow before we take them to Bishop Tom and Preacher Ben.”
Draining her glass, Nora considered Drew’s remark. “What if . . . what if you and I followed Cornelius and his driver in my van?” she murmured. “Loretta works on Tuesdays, so if I ask her to run the store because I have an out-of-town errand, she won’t suspect why I’m gone. And if the girls know their dat’s going to Kansas City for clock parts, I’m betting Rosalyn will join Loretta in the store. They’ll be fine.”
“I can look in on them, too,” Luke said in a thoughtful tone. “But what if the driver realizes you’re tailing him? It’s not like a lot of folks drive a black van without any chrome.”
Nora arched an eyebrow at him. “I used to drive a red BMW, remember? And I managed to avoid all the cops who were out looking to ticket fast red cars,” she added as the idea grew on her. “The van Cornelius rides in will go right past the mill, heading north to the city, so we can be waiting—ready to pull out after he gets past our intersection.”
Luke considered this. “Actually, from our hill you’ll be able to see that green van when it pulls away from the Riehl place,” he mused aloud. “But what’ll happen if you lose him in city traffic?”
Nora shrugged. “With Drew helping me keep that van in sight, we’ll have two sets of eyes on it,” she said. “And it’s not like I’m a total stranger to Kansas City. My ex and his family lived on the Kansas side, in Shawnee Mission, but I learned to drive on some of the nearby highways that went near the Plaza and in the downtown area. I’ve got it covered.”
“And that green van’s easy to spot,” Drew said, sounding more enthusiastic as they fleshed out their plan. “The back bumper’s been hit on one side, and, as I recall, the back license plate is missing a bolt and hanging loose.”
Luke smiled. “It’s a sure bet you’d be better at tailing this driver than I would,” he admitted. “As long as you keep your cell phone handy and call me if you get into a sticky situation, I suppose I’m all right with your mission. But let’s not forget that if Cornelius figures out you and Drew are spying on him, he’ll retaliate.”
Nora nodded. The best way to avoid his retaliation is to remain invisible . . . off his radar screen. I can do that.
She looked from Drew to her husband, tingling with the excitement of their upcoming adventure. “Once we see Cornelius go into a clock shop, it’s not as though we have to tail him all day,” she said with a little shrug. “We can put our suspicions to rest, knowing we were watching out for the Willow Ridge church district—our friends and family. That would be well worth my time and gas.”
Drew appeared pleased and relieved as he stood up. “Denki so much for your help with this—and for the tea. I hope he really is shopping for clock parts—or secondhand clocks—and that our concerns have all been idle speculation.”
Nora saw Drew out, pausing in the doorway to watch his long-legged stride. When Luke came up behind her, she relaxed against his firm, fit body. “Care to wager any money—or a nice restaurant meal—that Drew and I catch Cornelius at something other than clock shopping?”
“Nope,” Luke murmured, nuzzling her temple. “I think our instincts and Drew’s are spot-on. I just hope we figure out what Riehl’s up to before he does something drastic and detrimental with the church’s funds.”
“Me, too,” Nora said. “Let’s pray that we don’t learn things we never wanted to find out about him.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wyatt inhaled the fresh air, reveling in the feel of Rebecca’s small, sturdy hand in his. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon and a perfect day to walk around his new property. Its rugged contours and uncut prairie grasses were a far cry from the manicured grounds of his two other farms, and he had visions of preserving some of the land’s natural aspects rather than civilizing them.
Rebecca, wearing a ball cap and dark sunglasses, was shading her face with her hand, gazing appreciatively in every direction. He wasn’t sure if she was trembling slightly because she was apprehensive, or because she was excited about seeing his property, but she wasn’t pulling away—and she wasn’t making any sharp remarks or asking candid questions he couldn’t avoid answering.
He smiled. Rebecca’s way of nailing him with one-liners was one of the things he adored about her.
“Once some of these trees come out,” he said, gesturing toward a wooded area in the center of the grassy plain, “I’ve got an Amish builder named Amos Coblentz lined up to build the barns this fall,” he said. “Heard anything about him?”
Rebecca slipped her hand from his to remove the lens cap of the camera hanging around her neck. “You’ve hired the premier Plain builder in this area—despite his reputation for usually having more job offers than he and his son Owen can accept,” she replied.
As she held the camera to her eye, Wyatt watched in quiet awe as she snapped rapid-fire shots of the lush trees. “There’s a pond over that way,” he said. “Would a shot of that look good as the header for my site, perhaps?”
“I was thinking we could get you started with shots of the land in its natural state, adding more photos as your barns and fences are constructed,” she said. “Until all of your structures are in place and you have horses here, we can launch your site in anticipation of the working farm—and if we link this site to the ones featuring your established properties, the folks who already follow you will get a look at the new venture you’re taking on.”
“Good idea. Once we post my contact information, it’ll be interesting to see how many calls and emails I get asking me what on God’s earth I’m doing,” he said with a laugh.
Rebecca lowered her camera to smile at him. “I think that’s an angle you should consider,” she said pensively. “This is God’s earth, and without getting preachy or religious, you could emphasize any land conservation efforts you’re making. You’ll gain a lot of respect from your new Amish neighbors that way, too.”
When Rebecca started walking, Wyatt kept pace. “I’ve always believed it’s important to be a good steward of the land, as well as of the animals I raise,” he said. “When I talked with the county extension agent a couple weeks ago, he gave me the name of a timber cruiser who can mark the walnut trees—so I can sell them for good lumber instead of just knocking them down and whacking them up.”
“The Brenneman brothers might want to talk to you about that,” Rebecca suggested. She knelt quickly to snap a shot of a red-winged blackbird on a cattail at the edge of the pond. “Aaron, Seth, and Micah make a lot of walnut furniture in that big metal building you can see from the county highway, and they would know of a sawmill where the trees could be cut into planks and boards. It would add intrinsic value if their customers knew a piece—or a roomful—of furniture had been made from locally harvested walnut.”
Wyatt smiled as they reached the thicket of weeds and cattails that edged the pond. “Brilliant idea,” he murmured. “I knew you’d be an invaluable source of information. As you can see,” he added, gesturing at the low, scummy surface of the water, “my pond needs a lot of attention. But it’s fed by springs, which suggests I’ll have some groundwater to tap into. The extension agent’s going to test it, to see if it’s good for wells I can use for irrigation, or perhaps even for the water in my house.”
Rebecca was nodding, snapping more shots of vegetation he just thought of as weeds, which she would probably use in an artsy way on his new site. “If you expand the pond, or stock it with fish—anything of interest to folks in
this rural area,” she added, “we could post videos of those activities on your site. And come time for your barn raising, we might want to advertise it so folks around this area can come,” she continued excitedly. “When Amish builders work, it’s poetry in motion to watch the way they raise the walls and trusses and handle their tools.”
The light in her eyes intrigued Wyatt as much as her words. Her way of moving and shooting, with her camera as an extension of her hands and creative vision, fascinated him.
Rebecca shrugged, smiling. “But then, maybe you want no part of all these suggestions,” she said. “I’m sure you already have a plan of action in mind, and you don’t need me rattling off—”
“I do need you,” he said quickly. He walked over in front of her and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “You know this area. And then there’s this thing I have about wanting to spend time with you. Close to you.”
A slow smile overtook her face as she raised her camera to her eye again. “Don’t you dare move,” she whispered. “Keep gazing at me . . . just like that—” She snapped two or three shots in succession.
“You surely won’t use those shots on my website—”
“Why not?” She lowered the camera, studying his face until he wondered if he’d missed a spot while he was shaving. “A great face like yours will draw a lot of traffic to your new site,” she said matter-of-factly. “And it’s a different look from the suit-and-tie photos on your other two sites. Women will love it that your collar’s open—”
“What about you, Rebecca?” He wasn’t a man who sought compliments, but her opinion of him mattered. A lot.
Her eyes narrowed in thought. “You bring to mind Robert Redford in his role as the Sundance Kid,” she murmured. “It’s a rugged, manly, all-American look that sells a lot of clothing for high-end menswear catalogs. You’re hot, Wyatt.”
Heat rushed up from beneath his collar as Rebecca’s remarks, her husky voice, told him even more than he’d hoped to hear. This wasn’t a high-dollar horse client casting a line, trying to catch his eye and curry his favor. Rebecca, in her cutoffs and baggy T-shirt, was as genuine and sincere a woman as he’d ever met—sure to cut him down to size if he got too big for his designer britches.
“And you, Rebecca, have a face that launches a thousand fantasies,” Wyatt murmured, gently caressing her cheek with his fingertips. He nodded toward his new double-wide trailer, a well-appointed temporary home that was parked in the shade, a short distance from the other side of the pond. “If you want . . . we could go inside and make a few of those fantasies come true.”
One eyebrow arched, Rebecca turned to look at his temporary home. “If you want,” she shot back, “we could go to my computer and start designing your new home page. You have a lot of photos to sort through.”
Wyatt laughed. He needed to work on his technique, it seemed. “All work and no play makes Wyatt a dull boy,” he quipped, sensing the sentiment would get her no closer to going inside with him.
“Plan your work and work your plan,” Rebecca countered as she started back toward his Lexus. “If you work smart, it leaves plenty of time for play.”
Wyatt caught up to her and slung his arm around her shoulders. It felt good to walk beside her, to match his stride to hers and inhale the wholesome, uncomplicated scent that was Rebecca’s. She wasn’t shrugging him off or shutting him down, so he decided it was best to work her plan . . . and see if he could eventually work it his way.
* * *
When Nora arrived at the Riehl place on Monday morning, Loretta and Rosalyn were hanging wet dresses on the clothesline, which ran parallel to the side of the house. She got out of the van and waved, hoping her request would come across as simple and sincere rather than as a cover-up for what she planned to do with Drew on Tuesday.
“Hello, girls! It’s a beautiful day for hanging out laundry.” Nora loved the sight of sheets, trousers, and shirts all hanging in organized rows visible from the road—concealing the undergarments that hung behind them. She had also come to love her automatic washer and dryer, however, so she didn’t envy the sisters their morning of using a windup agitator washer and rolling the clean clothes through a ringer.
“We like to get our heavy work done before the sun’s too high,” Rosalyn said as she shook a pair of dark blue tri-blend trousers so hard they snapped.
“I bet you knew we’d be picking and snapping green beans today, so you decided you’d rather work in our garden than in your shop,” Loretta teased from the porch. After she arranged a purple polyester-blend dress on a plastic hanger, she hung it on a short rope that was suspended between the two side pillars of the porch.
Nora laughed. “Millie and I helped my mamm pick her beans last night,” she replied. “Mamm and Dat will snap them today, and I’ll go over to help them pressure can them this evening.”
“Millie told me at church that she’s spending a lot of time during the day with your parents,” Rosalyn said as she hung the trousers with wooden clothespins. “I bet she’s a real help—gut company—for them.”
Nora nodded. Her daughter, Millie, recently married to Luke’s brother Ira, had become a mainstay for her grandparents, Gabe and Wilma Glick. “Jah, and because she’s with them, I’m able to run Simple Gifts without worrying about them. And on that subject,” she continued, “I’ve been called away on some business Tuesday morning, and I’m hoping you’ll feel comfortable running the store for a while, Loretta. Luke will unlock the door around nine o’clock and he’ll check in on you now and again—unless you don’t want him to.”
Loretta’s eyes widened. “You want me to mind the store? Wow,” she murmured.
Rosalyn chuckled. “Just so happens that at breakfast, Dat said he was heading to Kansas City on Tuesday, checking some secondhand stores for more clocks,” she remarked. “If you want, Loretta, I could bring along the materials for the two wreaths I’m making. We could have our own little crafting frolic and wait on customers together!”
Loretta brightened as she looked at Nora. “Will that be all right, the two of us being there?”
“Of course it will,” Nora replied. “You’ll probably sell all manner of items—along with some of your rugs and wreaths—while I’m away. You’ve seen how the ladies enjoy watching you work on your projects, and I’ve already sold three of the wreaths you consigned last week, Rosalyn,” she added quickly. “I’ll have your check waiting for you tomorrow when you get there.”
Delight brightened Rosalyn’s face. “That’s amazing! Denki, Nora.”
“You’re welcome—and thank you both for helping me out. I’ll be on the road early, so if you have any questions, let me know by tonight.” She smiled at Loretta. “You know how to ring up sales and record them in the consigner’s notebook, so you’ll be just fine, sweetie.”
As she got into the van and pulled onto the road, Nora thought about the secondhand clock story Cornelius had told his daughters—maybe it was the truth. Maybe she was just too suspicious. She had to admit that her spying mission with Drew intrigued her, though, even as she reminded herself that they might learn something they didn’t want to know about the deacon of Willow Ridge.
She refused to think about what would happen if Cornelius caught them following his driver’s van.
Chapter Fifteen
Drew leaned forward in the passenger seat of Nora’s black van, where they waited on Tuesday morning in her customary parking spot alongside the Simple Gifts shop. From the hill where the Hooleys lived, he could survey most of Willow Ridge, and they had already seen the old green van pull up across the road from the Riehl house.
“There goes Cornelius with his case—and a briefcase,” Nora murmured, leaning into the steering wheel as she watched. “Hmm. That looks more like a wheeled suitcase than a repairman’s case. But what do I know?”
“It’s the same case he’s rolled out to the van before, when I’ve seen him from my apartment,” Drew confirmed. “Okay, here they come . . . just turn
ed onto the county highway, headed our way.”
Nora started her engine. “We’ll let them get a little way past the mill before we pull out,” she said. “It’s not like they can turn onto any side roads for a while—and they wouldn’t do that, anyway, if they want to get to Kansas City in the shortest amount of time.”
“What if that’s not where he’s really going?” Drew asked. He and Nora followed the green van’s progress past the mill, and a few moments later, she pulled away from the shop.
“We might find all sorts of loopholes in his story,” she replied. “I hope, for the girls’ sake, he isn’t up to his eyeballs in some sort of monkey business—or illegal transactions.”
Drew sighed. “I wish I could trust him,” he said softly. “If Loretta and I keep seeing each other, it’ll be difficult to deal with discrepancies in his stories and business dealings. We might have to confront him—and that won’t be easy.”
“We’ll keep the faith and cross that bridge when we come to it,” Nora said, turning onto the county road. “And meanwhile, look at the big equipment at our new neighbor’s place. Looks like Wyatt’s making some major improvements on the landscape before he has his barns and stables built.”
“Did I hear he raises fancy Thoroughbreds?” Drew asked. He stared out the van’s window, noting huge dozers and the expanse of earth they’d already cleared. “Beats me why anybody would bring such an endeavor to Willow Ridge.”
Nora smiled, settling into her seat. “Wyatt McKenzie impresses me as a man who does his homework and knows exactly what he’s doing,” she remarked, focusing on the road and the van a little way ahead of them. “I’m eager to see the website Rebecca’s designing for him. Something tells me they’re starting up a romance that’ll give their Amish neighbors something to gossip about, too.”
Drew laughed. “What would we Amish have to entertain ourselves if it weren’t for speculating about newcomers and their intentions?”
A Simple Wish Page 13