He hopped back into the cab. As he pulled out of the lot, Timothy stuck his head out. “Mabel! Come!”
The dog spun around, ran full tilt for Timothy’s truck, and jumped into the bed. I turned in my seat to see Brock make an ugly hand gesture at our truck.
A short while later, Timothy drove up to the house. He walked me to the door as Becky said good-bye to Aaron. Neither man had mentioned Brock or Curt again. “There is a picnic at the church tonight,” Timothy said. “It’s a celebration for the end of summer.”
I wasn’t eager to see Hannah again. “Does Becky know about it?”
“She should. You might need to remind her though.”
“I can do that.”
He paused. “Will you come?”
“To bring Becky? Sure, if she needs a ride.”
“I don’t want you to just drop her off.”
“Oh, okay.”
A slow smile grew on his face. “No. I want you to come.”
I felt a blush spread across my face—and I forgot all about Hannah.
Chapter Fifty
I ran my hands along the skirt of my flower-print dress, unsure of what to wear when I visited Timothy’s church again. Since the congregation was Mennonite, most of the women wore long skirts. I didn’t believe Becky when she said anything I wore would be fine.
“You look beautiful. I don’t know what you’re so nervous about. I should be the one who is nervous. I’m the one everyone is talking about,” Becky said. “I’d rather be home with Gigabyte watching Paula Deen.”
Becky had recently discovered Food Network. She was obsessed.
“You’re going as a favor to me. Timothy wanted you to come too.”
Becky shook her head. “I don’t think so. He likes you. I’ve never seen him act this way around anyone else, not even Hannah.”
Did she have to keep bringing up Hannah? It was bad enough I knew she would be at the picnic that night.
The picnic area behind the church was filled with people and four gas grills loaded down with hotdogs and hamburgers. It smelled divine. These hamburgers would be much better than the one I gagged down in Harshberger’s cafeteria.
Timothy stood next to a middle-aged man at one of the grills. He waved at us and jogged over. “I’m so glad you could come.” He ran his eyes over me. “You look nice.”
I blushed. Hopefully he’d think the redness on my cheeks was just a sunburn from the hike we took that morning.
He started back toward the grill, and gestured for me to follow him. “I want you to meet someone.”
Becky bumped into me. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
I grabbed her hand. “Then come with us.”
Timothy gestured to an older man at the grill. “Chloe, this is John Hilty.”
I knew where Hannah got her good looks. John Hilty was a handsome man, with a tan from working outside and laugh lines that creased the corners of his deep-set eyes.
Mr. Hilty removed his oven mitt and held out his hand. I shook it. “It’s nice to meet you. How do you know Timothy?”
I nodded to my housemate. “Through Becky.”
“Hello, Becky,” Mr. Hilty said.
From yards away, Hannah waved in our direction. “Daddy!” She wore a flowered dress similar to mine, but as my dress hung straight from my shoulders, hers hugged her curves. I wished I’d followed Becky’s advice and worn my jeans. At least then it wouldn’t look like I was trying to copy Hannah.
Kim and Emily followed behind Hannah at a respectful distance, as if they were ladies-in-waiting and she was the princess. Church members beamed as Hannah floated by. Maybe she was the princess.
Hannah fake pouted. “Timothy, I’ve been waiting for you to get here, and you go straight to my father instead of saying hello to me.” Her pout morphed into an adoring grin.
The worst part? The affectionate expression he offered her in return.
Mr. Hilty pointed a metal spatula in my direction. “Have you met Chloe, Hannah?”
Hannah gave me the smallest of smiles. “Yes, we met last Sunday. It’s nice to see you again, Chloe. Will you be attending our church on a regular basis?”
Not if you ask me like that.
Hannah put a hand on my wrist. “We shouldn’t distract the men when they are cooking. Why don’t you and Becky join my friends and me?”
I opened my mouth to make an excuse, but Timothy nodded. “That’s a great idea. Have fun!”
Becky and I followed Hannah and her friends to a picnic table as if our shoes were full of lead. Suddenly Becky stopped. “Oh, I see someone I have to talk to.”
“Wha—” I grabbed at her as she ran in the opposite direction.
Hannah glanced over her shoulder. “Are you coming, Chloe?”
I looked heavenward and followed. At the table, I perched on one of the benches next to Kim. She seemed the least ferocious of the group. Besides, from this vantage point I could see Timothy at the grill.
Hannah folded her hands on the table. “You seem to be spending a lot of time with Timothy and his family.”
I decided to change the subject. “Becky told me that you knew about her job interview?”
Hannah arched an eyebrow at me. “I did. She mentioned it to me when we met in town one afternoon.”
“She told you that she’d be driving my car.”
There was a pitcher of lemonade on the table, and Emily poured us each a paper cup full.
Hannah took a sip. “She told me that she was driving a car. I didn’t know it was yours. To be honest, I wasn’t all that interested. You think a lot of the Troyers, don’t you?”
I glanced at Timothy, who laughed with the other men around the grill. “They’ve been so welcoming.”
“I’m surprised, considering . . .”
I looked to Hannah. “Considering what?”
“That you are an English girl.”
I didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, I watched Timothy flip hamburgers on the grill and laugh with Hannah’s father. I could never imagine him doing that with my father. I could never imagine my father doing that with anyone, for that matter.
“For Amish, the Troyers are more accepting than others in their district. I’m sure it’s the grandfather’s influence.” She took another sip of her lemonade. “After everything that’s happened, they’ve come to accept me as part of the family too. I know his parents are Amish, but I think they now know that I’m a good match for Timothy.”
I froze. “A good match?”
“Didn’t Timothy tell you? We are a couple. We are practically promised to each other.”
“Promised to each other? What does that mean?”
She laughed lightly, her eyelashes fluttering. “That we will be engaged soon.”
My face grew hot. “A person is either engaged or not engaged.”
“Why are you getting so upset?” She crushed her empty lemonade cup in her hand. “Emily, pour me another. I want a fresh cup.”
Emily did as she was told.
I swallowed. “I’ve never heard the term before.”
“It might not be something people say in the big city you’re from, but in Knox County it’s common.”
“Oh.” I took a deep breath. Get a grip, Chloe.
“You are getting so upset, I . . . well . . .”
“What?” My temper flared.
She gave her lilting laugh again. “I’d almost think you have feelings for him.”
Her minions giggled.
She took a sip from her fresh cup. “That’s silly. You have to know his family would never approve of you. You’re English.”
I cocked my head. “So are you.”
“True, but I’m Mennonite. I guess his family feels if he’s going to leave the ch
urch, I’m close enough. We share the same faith and values.” She frowned. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you about me.” She crushed the second empty paper cup in her hand. “I’ve heard all about you. You were trapped in the tornado together. No wonder you have a crush on him.” Her eyes narrowed. “How cute.”
“I’ve got to go.” I got up from the table and walked away. How dumb of me to come. My version of plain clothing or not, I did not belong here. I was better off with my high-tech toys. Hannah was right; she was a much better fit for Timothy than I could ever be. If Timothy had been promised to her, it was no wonder he’d been reluctant to talk to me about his past. The question was, why did he bother to tell me at all? I knew I should go to Timothy directly and ask him. That’s what Tanisha would have done. But I didn’t have my best friend’s nerve. I couldn’t bring myself to do it at the picnic with Hannah close by. I needed to get out of there to clear my head.
I was almost to the parking lot when Timothy touched my arm. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”
I tensed. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m not upset.” I could hear my own voice catch, and took a breath. “I’m going home.”
“What happened?”
“Ask Hannah.”
His eyes were concerned. “Is Hannah all right?”
His question was like a punch in the gut. Maybe she had been telling the truth. “I have to go.”
“It’s late. How are you going to get there?”
“Same way I got here. I’ll walk,” I snapped.
He jerked back as if I slapped him. Then he let go of my arm and let me walk away.
As I walked home, I felt ridiculous for getting so upset. I let Hannah get to me without giving Timothy the chance to explain. He deserved the chance to do that. As I walked along the sidewalk, a flush ran up the back of my neck into the crown of my head. How could I be so stupid?
As I made my way up the path to my house, a silver car drove by me very slowly. I tamped down a shiver. I must still be spooked from today’s encounter with Curt and Brock. I put the key in the lock, then glanced at the silver sedan’s taillights. At least it wasn’t a green truck.
Chapter Fifty-One
On Monday afternoon, a reception was held in the cafeteria for summer staff. Dean Klink and the college president stood behind a podium in front of an unlit fireplace. The dean tapped his finger on the microphone. Pop. Pop.
Next to me, Clark winced, his voice a harsh whisper. “I hate it when people do that. Hurts the equipment.”
The dean leaned into the mike. “Can you hear me?”
A shout came from the back of the cafeteria. “No!”
Clark groaned.
I elbowed him. “Go up there and help him.”
“All right.” He left his seat and wove through the chairs.
The dean clapped his hands. “Oh good, I see Clark’s coming to help us.”
Miller kept rearranging the salt and pepper shakers on the table. I fought back the urge to snatch them from him.
A cluster of secretaries stood in the middle of the room, blocking half of the stage. I stood up and took a few steps to observe Clark. His foot stuck out from the side of podium. An amp or speaker must have gotten unplugged. I was about to sit down when I noticed a third person standing, waiting to speak. My back stiffened. Grayson Mathews. What is he doing here?
He made eye contact with me and smiled. A chill ran down my spine.
Clark crawled out from under the podium, said something to Dean Klink, and then hurried back to our table.
“Thank you, Clark,” Dean Klink spoke into the microphone. “Thank you, everyone, for taking time from your busy day to come out and meet together as a campus this afternoon. We know you are all tirelessly working to make this the best year Harshberger has ever seen. As year-round staff, you’re the wheels that keep us moving, and we thank you for that. Each and every one of you is important to the success of this college.”
He waited for the round of applause to die down before he continued. “Since you work all year round, we only thought it was fair to share some exciting news with you first. We have a new partnership coming to Harshberger College, and we are thrilled to tell you about it.” Dean Klink gestured to the president. “President Hammerstein, would you do the honors?”
I’d yet to meet the college president in person. He was an elderly man with a beaklike nose. His wide smile softened the severity of his features. “This school year we will be breaking ground for a new building: The Mathews Science Center.”
The sound of clapping resonated through the room.
“The Mathews Science Center will have state-of-the-art labs for all our science majors, including nursing. Mr. Mathews and his company have made a generous two-million-dollar donation, and many other donors have also given gifts.” He started listing the donors. As he did, I could not take my eyes off Grayson Mathews. When we met, I had told him I worked at Harshberger. So why didn’t he tell me about this project? Was it because the college was keeping it a secret until details were finalized? What else didn’t I know about him?
Mathews stepped up to the microphone. “Thank you, President Hammerstein. Thank you, Dean Klink.” He shared his toothpaste-commercial smile with the room. “I’m so grateful for this opportunity to partnership with Harshberger College. As many of you know, my father loved Harshberger and taught here for more than thirty years in the chemistry department. Even though I never attend here as a student—I might have if you had football . . .”
A chuckle rumbled through the crowd.
“Harshberger is as much my home campus as Ohio State is. I grew up here, and I know that the great work you do to educate and prepare young people for both their personal and professional lives is unsurpassed. This new building will be in honor of my father’s memory, but also in honor of you, his colleagues and friends.”
Clark shifted in his seat, muttering. “He wants his last name on the building. It will make it easier for him with the county.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
“He’s not just trying to buy Amish land, if you know what I mean.”
I wrinkled my forehead.
Miller rotated the salt and pepper shakers again. “Strategic philanthropy.”
“Or natural gas,” Clark said.
“Natural gas?” The pump on the Glick farm came to mind.
“Oh, yeah. Knox is one of the top natural gas-producing counties in Ohio. I’m sure Mathews would love to get his hands on it. The Amish are sitting smack-dab on top of it.”
“What about the planned communities?” I asked.
Clark shrugged. “He might want to do that too, but it won’t make him the same kind of money the well will. I mean, who in Knox County can afford those huge houses he builds?”
Who indeed?
A woman sitting across from us made a shushing sound, and I realized I missed the end of Mathews’s brief speech.
After the speech, Miller, Clark, and I got in line for cookies. “It was the weirdest thing,” Clark said, “but I could have sworn I saw his car in the lot this morning. Later, I went outside to search for it, but by then, it was gone.”
“You did?” Miller asked.
“What kind of car is it?” I asked, half paying attention as I watched Mathews work the room.
“A silver sedan.”
My head snapped around. The car that passed me Saturday night was a silver sedan.
Clark’s brow knitted together. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I’ll see you guys back at the office.” I made a beeline for the punch table where Grayson Mathews stood, shaking hands.
I waited in line as one of the vice presidents gushed over him. “Mr. Mathews, you don�
��t know how much this donation means to Harshberger and our students.”
Mathews smiled his perfect-teeth smile and patted the man on the back as if he was a member of the same team. Old habits must die hard for the football hero. The vice president, five foot one at best, had probably not been a former football teammate, yet he beamed.
At my turn, I held out my hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Mathews.”
He gave me the same smile he shared with the vice president, but this one didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, yes, Miss Humphrey. It’s nice to see you again. Has Timothy and his family changed their mind about my offer?”
I shook my head.
He pursed his lips. “What a shame.”
“It’s nice of you to donate to the college. Very generous.”
He smiled. “I have plans to be a large part of Knox County, and in particular, Appleseed Creek. It makes sense I would give back, and what better place to do that than to Harshberger? The college has been here for nearly one hundred years.”
“How do you plan to be a large part of the Knox County? I mean, other than the development in the Amish district. You do know you will never convince all those Amish families to sell.”
He set his punch on the table. The cup was full. I wasn’t surprised. Grayson Mathews didn’t strike me as a fruit punch kind of guy. “You may be right. Not all the families will sell—at least not right away. However, if I can convince a few strategic sales, we can move forward with our plans. The plans may have to be scaled back, but we can always add on later as more land becomes available.”
I selected a sugar cookie from the tray. “Strategic sales? Do you mean the Glick Farm?”
“I appreciate your curiosity, but that’s simply none of your business.”
“Are you interested in the Glick’s land or the natural gas pump on the property?”
His head whipped to one side.
“I’m guessing you would have to offer each family much more for their property if you took into account their mineral rights. Have you included that in the negotiations?” I folded the cookie into a napkin.
The developer’s jaw twitched. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”
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