by Marta Perry
Sarah flipped the lock. “I’m not afraid, but it’s wise to talk precautions, ain’t so?”
“I guess.” She reached for the crutches, and Sarah was there instantly, supporting her.
“You just sit on the bed, and I’ll help you with your nightgown. Where is it?”
Allison yawned. “Top drawer. But it’s pajamas. I haven’t worn a nightgown since I was about six.”
“They’re comfy to snuggle up in,” Sarah said, pulling open the drawer.
Before Sarah had a chance to bring the pajamas, Allison’s cell phone announced a call. She checked. It was Diane.
“I’d better take this, or she’ll keep calling back. You don’t need to leave,” she added when Sarah made a move toward the door between the rooms. “It’s going to be brief.”
She pressed the button. “Hello, Diane.”
“Tired of the boonies yet?” As usual, Diane didn’t waste time or politeness. “Ready to come back to work?”
“That’s not going to happen.” Maybe if she said it firmly enough, Di would get the message.
“Now, don’t be so quick. You haven’t heard my offer yet.” Diane sounded pleased with herself.
“Offer?” She was mildly intrigued. What incentive was Diane willing to offer to avoid trying to replace her?
Hector, who had retired under the bed while the men were in the room, jumped on her lap, distracting her. She petted him absently.
“How does partner sound to you?”
“Partner?” She had to repeat the word to be certain she’d heard it.
“That’s right. Partner.” Diane sounded very sure of herself. She obviously thought this was an offer Allison couldn’t refuse. “I like you, Allison. We work well together, and it’s time I had somebody to share the responsibility. So, what do you say? Are you in?”
Allison’s brain started working again. “You haven’t been in touch with anyone else from Laurel Ridge lately, by any chance?”
“Laurel Ridge?” Diane sounded blank. “What’s that? Oh, you mean that hick town you ran off to? Of course not.”
Diane could lie and do it very convincingly. Allison had heard her do it. But she actually sounded sincere, so maybe this wasn’t another ploy like the position in San Francisco.
“I don’t—” she began.
“Don’t answer me now,” Diane said quickly. “I’ll email you the partnership proposal. Look it over carefully, think about it and let me know. Talk to you later.” She ended the connection before Allison could say another word.
Staring blankly at the phone, Allison put it on the bedside table. A partnership. Diane must really want her back. She realized that Sarah was staring at her.
When she met her gaze, Sarah flushed and averted her face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but hear. You... Are you going away?”
“I don’t know.” But even as she said the words, she realized she did know. “No. No, I’m not.”
Sarah smiled. “I’m wonderful glad of that. It was a gut offer, though?”
“It was a very good offer.” Allison pictured it with a little regret. “But if I took it now, it would be running away.” Her fingers clenched. “I don’t run away. I’ll be darned if I’ll let somebody scare me away from having what’s mine.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BY MONDAY, ALLISON really couldn’t stand being alone in the bedroom any longer, no matter how cozy it was. So she moved to the quilt shop, negotiating the sidewalk carefully with her crutches, with Sarah dogging her steps and opening doors. Finally she was ensconced in the rocking chair next to Sarah’s mother.
“I’m sehr happy to see you moving around.” Hannah paused in her stitching. “It’s gut to be back out again, ain’t so?”
“I was getting a little stir-crazy.” Allison smiled, watching Hector smell the crutches she’d propped up against the wall. “They haven’t changed,” she assured him, and Hannah chuckled.
“He must be sure they’re not dangerous. Or something to eat.”
Seemingly convinced that the crutches were neither, he leaped onto his favorite windowsill, turned around a few times and settled down, paws tucked beneath him so that he resembled a sphinx.
Allison leaned back in the chair, her head cushioned against the pad that lined it. “I haven’t used crutches since I broke a bone in my foot when I was fifteen. It seems a lot harder now.”
“Maybe you’ll be able to get rid of them soon.” Hannah paused, studying her face. “Do your parents know about the...accident?”
“I called my mother yesterday. I had no intention of telling her, but she knew something was wrong the minute I spoke. I had trouble convincing her she didn’t need to hop on a plane and come to help me.”
“You told her you had good friends here to help, ja?”
Allison smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did.” Strange, that she should feel that about Laurel Ridge so quickly. Or at all, for that matter. It seemed odd now that she’d initially come with the idea that she’d only be here for a few days. The place was growing on her.
Still, what would she do if she stayed here? Run the building? Help out in the quilt shop? She liked being a designer, and she doubted there was enough business in a town like Laurel Ridge to support an interior designer.
Hannah smoothed a completed quilt square out on her apron, where it made a bright patch of color against the black.
“That’s lovely. You’re working so fast.”
“In a few weeks I’ll be getting busy with the garden, so I’d best get as much done on it as I can now. I want to have a sizable area pieced by the time Sarah starts getting Englisch tourists on the weekend.”
She nodded. “That’s a good way of marketing the quilts. Does business pick up much in the summer?”
“Quite a bit, I’d say. On the weekends, mostly. The areas near Lancaster get the most visitors, that’s certain sure.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the tour buses.” Allison studied Hannah’s face. Sarah must have gotten her serenity from her mother. It was hard to picture Hannah perturbed about anything. “Some of the quilts aren’t traditional Amish ones, are they?”
Hannah’s eyes twinkled. “You guessed it. If I’m making a quilt to sell to the Englisch, I might use a lot of white for the background, with lighter colors like yellow. But if I’m making something for a gift, or for the family, I use the traditional colors, like this one. All solid, deep colors—the pieces that are left from making clothing. Or maybe saved when a garment is discarded.”
The deep colors Hannah mentioned were saturated shades of burgundy, purple, blue and green—the shades one typically saw in an Amish man’s shirt or a woman’s dress. When pieced together, the deep colors seemed to glow like jewels.
“Are you making this one for something special?”
“You might say so.” Hannah smiled, then glanced up as Sarah, finished with a customer, came over to them.
“You two look as if you’re having a fine chat,” Sarah said. “You’re not getting too tired, Allison?”
“I rested enough yesterday,” she said firmly, before Sarah could express the suggestion that she go and lie down. “We were talking about the quilts, and I was wondering if you do any advertising.”
Sarah nodded. “I buy an ad in the magazine they give away to all the tourists. That brings people into the shop.”
“I’m sure it does, but I was thinking of something not so dependent on tourism. What about internet sales?”
“Ach, I wouldn’t even know how to begin to do something like that. Besides—” Sarah stopped, looking troubled.
“What?”
“People might think I was being prideful,” she said.
Allison bit back the suggestion that she not care what people thought. Obviously, if you were Amish,
you did care. “I wouldn’t want to suggest anything that would get you into trouble with the church.”
“Nonsense,” Hannah said robustly. “Sarah, you know perfectly well that many Amish businesses have websites, or whatever they call them. You wouldn’t be advertising yourself, just the quilts.”
Allison was delighted with the support, all the more so because she’d thought Sarah’s parents might object.
“I don’t know...”
“Why don’t you let me look into it?” Allison said. “It will give me something to do while I’m laid up. You don’t have to commit to anything.”
“It’s a fine idea,” Hannah said.
“And honestly, someone in the city would expect to pay far more for a handmade quilt than you charge in the shop. It’s a way to reach those customers.”
Sarah smiled. “All right. But just look into it, mind. I haven’t said I’d do it yet.”
“Good.” Allison reached for the crutches, and Sarah looked alarmed.
“I didn’t mean right this minute,” she said quickly.
“Relax,” Allison said. “I just want to get a little exercise. I think I’ll go and check on Ralph. Is he back in the shop again today?”
“I think so.” Sarah steadied the rocker while she rose and put the crutches under her arms. “Don’t get too adventurous, now. And if you decide to go upstairs, you’d better take the elevator.”
Allison grimaced. “That rickety old thing sounds as if it’s about to die. I’m not sure it’s any safer than the stairs.”
“Promise me,” Sarah insisted. “Or else I’ll have to come with you.”
“All right, I promise. You’re turning into a nag, you know.”
Sarah grinned. “That’s what friends do, ain’t so? Nag you for your own good.”
Allison hadn’t thought about it that way, but she supposed it was true. In any event, it was good to have people here who cared for her to balance out those who wished she’d go away. And perhaps did more than wish.
She made her way back the hall, noticing that every trace of the Jumble Sale had been cleared away. The floor was spotless. No one would guess that hundreds of people had been through here on Saturday. She’d congratulate Fred on a good job, if not for the fact that she suspected the volunteers had done most of it.
When she reached the bookshop, she stopped and glanced back at the stairwell. As she’d thought, the angle of the steps made it unlikely Ralph had noticed anything on Saturday. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. If someone had come in from the back of the building, he would have been likely to notice that.
Ralph stood behind the counter, his gaze fixed on the computer monitor. As she clattered through the doorway, managing to bang a crutch against the frame, his head jerked around, eyes widening. “Allison! It’s you.”
“As you see.” She made her way to the counter. “How are you, Ralph? I understand you were upset by the accident.” She couldn’t imagine why. After all, he wasn’t the one who’d plunged down the stairs.
Perhaps some of that feeling showed in her voice, because a flush brightened his pale cheeks. “I just couldn’t stand listening to everyone talking about it and speculating about whether you were going to be all right.” He shuddered. “People can be such ghouls, can’t they?”
“Some people do seem to stare at accidents, don’t they?”
“Disgusting habit.”
Ralph was silent for a moment, but his mouth worked as if there was more to say. He was afraid, she realized.
“It could have been any of us.” The words burst out of him. “Who would do such a thing, not knowing who might be hurt? It could have been me. I went upstairs Saturday morning, too.”
She blinked. This was something worth exploring. “What time was that, do you know?”
“I’m not sure.” He grimaced. “I happened to think of something I’d forgotten, so I went up. Before you fell, obviously.”
“The stairs were clear when you came down?”
He blinked. “I—I didn’t come down the stairs. I used the elevator.”
Did that narrow it down any? Perhaps not. If Ralph’s trip had been earlier than hers, it didn’t really matter. “Did you see anyone else upstairs?”
“I think someone was in the real estate office. There was a light on. But no one was in the hallway as far as I remember.” Ralph shivered. “You mean the person who did it might have been hiding up there? That’s terrible. Frightening.”
He looked afraid at just the thought, and she took pity on him.
“Well, we’re both back in action today, anyway.” She gave him a reassuring smile.
“I almost wish I’d stayed home again.” Ralph fussed with the cash register, opening and closing the drawer. “As it is, I had Mac Whiting in here the minute I opened up, asking questions and making me think about it all over again.”
“I’m sure he was just doing his job,” she soothed. “After all, he had to ask whether you’d seen anyone behaving suspiciously.”
“As if I’d notice that with the crowd of people who were in here. Anyway, I can barely see the steps from here. I did hear the fuss when you fell—” He stopped, rolling his eyes a bit as the elevator trundled its way upstairs with a lot of creaking and groaning. “Nick and his father have been up and down a dozen times today if they’ve done it once.” He glared at the wall beyond which was the elevator shaft and the back stairway. “And if they’re not using that creaky old elevator, they’re banging against the wall of the stairs carrying things up and done.”
“They’re putting in the new kitchen in the apartment,” she said. She eyed the wall, speculating. “I didn’t realize you could hear the elevator so clearly from here. And people using the back stairs, as well.”
“It’s a disadvantage to this space, let me tell you. I always felt I should get a bit more of a break on my rent because of the inconvenience.” It was Ralph’s turn to study her, as if wondering how likely she was to be influenced in that way.
“You were in the shop most of the time on Saturday, weren’t you? I mean, I noticed that you weren’t out working the tables.”
“I don’t like crowds,” he said. “And Emily loves to do it.”
She really didn’t care why they’d split the work that way on Saturday. She just wanted to know what Ralph had heard.
“So I suppose if anyone had gone up the elevator or the back stairs on Saturday morning, you would have heard them.” Allison made an effort to sound as if it were of no particular consequence.
Ralph tilted his head to one side, looking like an inquisitive rabbit. “Well, the elevator I would. And I didn’t, I’m sure of that. Now, the stairs—let me think.”
She realized she was holding her breath and let it out. After all, even if he’d heard someone going up or down, he wouldn’t necessarily know who it was unless that person had passed the bookshop on the way.
“I’m just not sure.” Ralph shook his head regretfully. “I don’t pay particular attention, not unless someone’s making a lot of noise.” He hesitated, gaze still on her face. “You’re thinking the person who set that trap might have gone up and down the back stairs, aren’t you?”
Ralph, at least, seemed to accept that it had been a trap, rather than a somewhat peculiar accident.
“Well, if I were trying to avoid being seen, that’s what I’d do. What about someone going to or coming away from the stairwell? They’d have to pass the shop, wouldn’t they?”
“That’s what Mac said, but as I told him, why would anyone do that if they didn’t want to be seen? They could just go in and out the side door. I heard Fred left it open all day.”
Something seemed vaguely wrong about his response, but she couldn’t think what. Then she realized. He hadn’t really answered her question. “Did you see anyone?�
�
Ralph’s gaze slid away from hers. He waved a hand toward the computer. “I was far too busy to be noticing who was passing by. Spring Fest threw us behind on everything, and as for the amount of business it brought me, I might as well have closed for the day.” He turned rather obviously back to the computer.
What had Mac thought of Ralph’s responses to his questions? No doubt he knew the man better than she did. Was Ralph just naturally evasive, or was he hiding something?
* * *
EMERGING ONTO THE ground floor from the back stairs, Nick spotted Allison ahead of him in the hallway. He couldn’t miss her in any event, but was there another woman who could manage to look both vulnerable and sexy on crutches, with that silky hair swinging forward as she moved and the sway of her hips in the sleek-fitting pants?
Shaking his head at his own wayward thoughts, he hurried to catch up with her. “Shouldn’t you be resting? Or at least sitting down?”
She looked up with a quick smile at the sound of his voice. “Thanks, but if I rest anymore I just might start shrieking.”
“Are you exercising? Or going somewhere?”
“I stopped in to see Ralph.” Her clear eyes seemed to cloud. “I can’t quite make him out.”
“Welcome to the club. I’ve known him for fifteen years or so and I still don’t know what makes him tick.” He studied her face and knew that was more than a casual comment. “Does something in particular about Ralph have you puzzled?”
Allison paused for a moment before apparently deciding to speak. “Were you with your brother when he talked to Ralph about what happened on Saturday?”
He nodded, then glanced around. “If we’re going to talk about this, it shouldn’t be here. How would you like to come upstairs and check the progress on the apartment?”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll take the elevator.”
He grinned. “I could carry you up the steps, if you like.”
“But would we remember why we were going upstairs?” Her green eyes teased him, and again he had that vivid image of Allison on the bed, looking up at him.