Henry gawked after him, curious about his presence but unwilling to ask.
Marie faced him, her cheeks stained pink. She crossed her arms over her chest and held the door open with her hip. “Good morning. W–would you like some toast?”
Henry shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve had breakfast.”
“Well, at least come in out of the cold.” She pushed the door wider.
Aware of the other man inside, he remained on the stoop, holding his jacket closed against the morning breeze. “That’s all right. I came to see if you—”
“Marie?” the man’s voice intruded. “Can I borrow your toothpaste?”
Marie turned her face toward the bathroom. “Yes. Whatever you need.” Her voice sounded tight. She faced Henry again. “I’m sorry. You came to see. . .?”
“If you need some coal. I’m ordering a ton for my folks’ place. I thought maybe you could use some, too.”
Her eyes widened. “How could you possibly—”
“—know you need coal?” Henry smiled. “I always got Lisbeth’s coal when I got it for my folks. They seem to run out about the same time.”
She stared at him for several silent seconds, her brows low, puzzlement in her eyes. Then she shook her head, making her curls bounce. She took in a deep breath. “I was just noticing this morning that I need coal, but I didn’t want to bother you. I can get it myself if you’d be kind enough to tell me where.”
Henry released a light chuckle. “You’d have a time getting it in that car of yours. I borrow a truck from one of the local farmers and deliver it to my folks. The railroad brings it to town, but the train won’t come to your house.”
She ducked her head, laughing softly. When she raised her gaze, she looked a little less embarrassed and standoffish. “Thank you, Henry. Once again, your kindness is beyond the expected. Do—do you think you might advise me on how much I’ll need to get me through December?”
December. The reminder of her short time here struck again, making Henry’s heart race. “You could start with a quarter ton. If you need more, we can always get it later.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, her forehead creased in thought. Finally she nodded. “Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your help.”
The young man wandered back into the porch. He had slipped on a shirt that was covered in big flowers, but he hadn’t bothered with the buttons, leaving it flap open. He stepped beside Marie and draped one arm over her shoulders, holding his free hand toward Henry.
“Hey. I’m Mitch Rogers, Beth’s significant other. You must be the Henry Beth told me about.”
Henry shook the younger man’s hand, disconcerted by his familiarity with Marie. Her cheeks blazed again. He wanted to knock the boy’s arm from her shoulder.
“I’m Henry Braun. I’m pleased to meet you.” He hoped the Lord would forgive him for his fib.
Marie shifted her shoulders, and Mitch’s arm slid away. “Henry is bringing us a load of coal today so I can keep the furnace running.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mitch leaned against the doorjamb, as if providing chaperonage. “Good. We can use the heat. Pretty chilly in here in the mornings.”
Henry thought the man would stay warmer if he’d button up his shirt. He backed up, reaching for the stair railing. “I’ll have that coal here late this afternoon, Marie. I’ll just dump it through the basement window, like always.”
“That sounds fine.”
He felt reluctant to leave, yet had no excuse to stay. “I’ll see you later.” He turned and jogged to his waiting car, hoping his face wasn’t as red as the heat behind his cheeks indicated.
Driving toward his shop, he wondered about his strange reaction. Why should he care if some young man put his arm around Marie? It wasn’t any of his concern. Marie had been taking care of herself ever since Beth was a tiny baby. She could continue to do so. Yet he couldn’t deny the protectiveness he felt toward her.
Pulling behind his shop, he killed the motor and sat in the car for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts. “I promised Lisbeth to do all I could to bring her home. But home meant Sommerfeld, not my heart,” he reminded himself sternly. “I can help her as a Christian brother concerned for her well-being, but I have to stop being jealous.”
Jealous. The word made him set his jaw. He had no right to feel jealous toward anyone who showed attention to Marie. And he knew just how to get over that feeling.
Slamming out of his car, he headed to the back door of his shop and punched the key into the lock. “I’ll just get busy,” he said as he swung the door open and flipped on the lights. Unfortunately, no matter how busy he kept himself, the image of Mitch’s arm draped over Marie’s shoulders would not leave him alone.
“So you’ve been to each of these farms and everyone said no?”
Beth nodded at Mitch, irritation rising again at the memory of all those polite yet firm refusals. “And there’s some neat stuff there, too.” She sighed, brushing aside the remaining crumbs on the tabletop. “But there are plenty more places to go. We’ll just have to hope for the best.”
Mitch shook his head, his dark eyes gleaming. “First we’ll go back to each of these farms. Give them a second chance.” Slipping his hand into his back pocket, he removed his wallet. He flopped it open and grinned, rifling his thumb over the stack of twenty-dollar bills. “Ammunition, dear Lissie. We’ll capture ’em yet.”
Mom interrupted. “Don’t make pests of yourselves. If the people don’t want to sell, they don’t have to. It’s their right to keep their own belongings.”
Beth turned in her chair and scowled at her mother, who stood at the sink, drying the last of the lunch dishes. Mom had been uptight all morning, fussing about Mitch being here and how it wasn’t appropriate to have him in the house. Now it seemed she didn’t want them to buy things for the boutique, either. Didn’t she understand how a successful store would benefit all of them? “What’s your problem today?”
Mom blinked in surprise. “I don’t have a problem. I’m just saying, don’t get pushy. If they don’t want to sell, they don’t have to.”
Mitch hooked his elbow on the back of the chair and grinned. “Aw, c’mon, Marie, I’m not going to threaten anybody. But the opportunities are too good here. Beth told me about some long bench with a lid that had a feather tick inside it. You’d never find anything like that in the city.”
Mom nodded. “A sleeping bench. They were fairly common when I was growing up.” She leaned against the counter, and a slight smile graced her lips. “My mom kept one in the basement, and she’d sleep down there during the summer when it got too hot in the house.”
Mitch nudged Beth’s shoulder. “See there? Another one available. Where do your grandparents live? We can ask about theirs, too.”
Mom’s smile turned into a grimace. “Don’t bother. They won’t sell.” She reached for another plate.
Beth huffed. She flipped her hand toward her mother. “That’s the attitude around here, Mitch. ‘They won’t sell.’ ” Irritation mingled with hopelessness. Sighing, she raised her shoulders in a defeated shrug. “We might as well just catalog everything in this house and plan on it being our starting inventory. Maybe we can use some of the money you got to hit some auctions and buy stuff that way.”
Mitch’s gaze narrowed, his eyes snapping. “Absolutely not. I took my vacation to come out here and build our inventory. That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” He took Beth’s hand and raised it to his lips. His chin whiskers pricked her skin. Rubbing his fingers over her knuckles, he leaned forward and whispered, “I’m a salesman, remember? Together we’ll convince ’em, Lissie. Trust me.”
Beth giggled, her earlier despondence melting away under his fervent gaze. She bounced to her feet. “Let’s go to the café and get on the Internet. We can scope out some of the stuff I’ve already seen and get an idea of secondary market value.”
Mitch rose more slowly. His lazy amble was only one of the things that drew Beth to him. His la
id-back attitude was in direct contrast to her whirlwind emotions, and she loved how they balanced each other. They’d no doubt be very successful together in business. . .and in love. Her heart pounded with the thought.
She leaned into him, snuggling against his chest and releasing a sigh of contentment when his arms closed around her. Still nestled, she peeked at her mother. “We’re going to the café, Mom. Be back by suppertime, okay?”
Mom gave a nod, but she didn’t push any words past her tightly clamped lips.
FOURTEEN
Hi, Aunt Marie.” Joanna’s daughter, Kyra, slid into the corner booth and took the menu Marie offered.
Marie’s heart fluttered, just as it had the first time one of Joanna’s children used the title. The feeling of acceptance the simple word aunt delivered made her want to close her eyes and savor it. “Hi, honey. What brings you out this afternoon? Didn’t you like what your mom was fixing for supper?”
Kyra laughed, the trickling tone very much like Joanna’s. “No, it isn’t that at all.” She laid the menu on the table and folded her hands on top of it. “I really came to see Beth, but she isn’t here. Again. I haven’t been able to track her down all week.”
Marie frowned. Beth had spent the entire week with Mitch, rarely appearing in the café except to grab something to eat and leave again. Mitch had indicated his vacation was nearing its end, and Marie admitted she’d be relieved to see him go. Beth’s dissatisfaction with Sommerfeld had increased tenfold during her boyfriend’s stay. The last few Xs on the calendar had been penned with force.
“She’s been pretty occupied with Mitch.” Marie managed to smile.
Kyra tipped her head, her cap ribbons shifting with the movement. “Has she had much success in buying items?”
Marie shook her head. “Not much, I’m afraid. A few things, but not nearly what she’d hoped. But in true Quinn fashion, she isn’t willing to concede defeat. She intends to visit every house in Harvey County before she’s finished.”
Kyra laughed again. “She is determined!”
“More like stubborn,” Marie said on a sigh.
“You know, I really admire her,” Kyra said thoughtfully. “She sees what she wants, and she’s willing to go after it. A lot of people, when faced with the kind of negative responses she’s gotten, would just give up. But Beth continues to move forward because it means so much to her.”
Marie wasn’t sure Kyra fully understood Beth’s motivation—achieving financial security at any cost—but she appreciated her niece’s kind response. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I know I am.” Kyra giggled, peeking around at the nearly empty café before leaning forward and whispering, “I had to be determined when it came to my relationship with Jacob. He’s as bashful as his uncle Henry, and he would never have made a move if I hadn’t let him know I was interested.” She shook her head, her blue eyes sparkling. “But determination pays off.” Pausing, she licked her lips. “You and Beth will be here for the wedding, won’t you?”
Marie’s heart sank. Despite having spent time with Joanna and her family over the past couple of weeks, no other relatives had approached to welcome Marie back. She was fairly certain she would not be welcome at a family event, but she hated to hurt Kyra’s feelings. She spoke cautiously. “I’m not sure right now, honey. We’ll probably go back to Cheyenne right after Christmas.”
Kyra nodded, a sweet smile tipping up her lips. “I understand. Well. . .if it works for you to be there, I’d sure like that.”
Marie’s heart melted. “Oh, I would, too.” She took in a deep breath, changing the subject. “You said you were looking for Beth. What did you need?”
Kyra sat up straight, eagerness showing in her bearing. “A bunch of us are driving to Newton tomorrow night for a skating party. I wondered if she and Mitch would like to join us. Several of her cousins are going, along with our friends, and we thought it would be a good way for her to get to know us better.”
Marie slid into the opposite side of the booth. “Oh, Kyra, it’s so nice of you to want to include her, but. . .” Beth spending an evening with the Mennonite young people? While Mitch was in town? Marie couldn’t envision it.
“We won’t be out late,” Kyra added. “With service on Sunday, we need to be home by ten at the latest. We all plan to meet at Uncle Art’s business and carpool, and we always eat at McDonald’s before we go to the skating rink, so we’ll leave at five o’clock.”
Marie sat silently, uncertain how to avoid hurting Kyra’s feelings.
Kyra leaned back, linking her fingers together. “Just tell her, okay? If she and Mitch are there, they can ride over with Jacob and me. If they’re not, I’ll know they didn’t want to go.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Beth stood in the hallway, hands on hips, a scowl marring her pretty face. “Skating. . .in a skirt, yet!”
Marie glanced over Beth’s outfit—meshy-looking pink sweater, flaring peasant-style skirt, and brown T-strap flats. Six inches of bare leg showed between skirt and shoes. “You’ll need socks.”
“They’re in my purse. There’s no way I’m wearing them in public until I have the skates on my feet.” She shook her head, her ponytail swaying. “I’m going to feel like such a misfit.”
Marie recognized the insecurity beneath Beth’s adamant statement. She stepped forward, cupped her daughter’s cheeks, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You’ll be fine.”
Beth grasped her mother’s wrists and gave them a squeeze. “I wish Mitch were coming.”
“Why isn’t he?”
The girl scowled. “He said he needed to get all his stuff packed to head back to Cheyenne tomorrow morning. But I think he just doesn’t want to hang out with Kyra and Jacob and the rest. He feels funny around them.”
Marie nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”
Resting her weight on one leg, Beth tipped her head and sighed. “Tell me again why I’m doing this?”
Marie imitated Beth’s stance. “Number one, because it will do you good to get out with people your own age. And number two, because you’ll get to know some of your cousins. . .at least a little bit. They are family, you know.”
A lengthy, melodramatic sigh followed Marie’s comments, but Beth made no disparaging remark. “Okay. Maybe if the young people get to know me, they’ll tell their folks to sell stuff to me after all. I guess that would make this all worthwhile.”
The reference to money-making made Marie clench her jaw.
“I just hope I stay on my feet, or everyone will see what I have on underneath.” With a smirk, Beth lifted the hem of her skirt to reveal knee-length Spandex biking shorts.
Marie burst out laughing.
“I know, I know,” Beth groused, “but I didn’t have anything else. I’d stick out even worse if I wore my jeans.”
“You could borrow my denim skirt. At least it won’t flare out.”
Beth shook her head. “Huh-uh. It’s not my style. Besides”—she grinned impishly—“when I whirl around the floor, this one will be bee-yoo-ti-ful to watch.” Rising on one toe, she spun in a circle, the batik-patterned fabric becoming a blur of color.
Tears stung behind Marie’s eyes as another picture formed in her memory—Beth on the first day of kindergarten in a pink polkadot dress, twirling to make her skirt flare, a huge smile on her sweet face.
“All right then.” Marie gave her daughter a hug, holding on tight. For some reason, letting Beth go was as bittersweet as it had been on that first school day so long ago. “Have a good time.”
“I’ll do my best.” Beth headed for the door, her arm around Marie’s waist. “What are you going to do while I’m out?”
“Empty Aunt Lisbeth’s closet and bureau so I can put my own clothes away. I’ve been putting it off, but I can’t handle living out of boxes any longer.”
“Okay. Well—” They reached the back door and Beth grabbed the doorknob. “See you around ten.”
Marie held the door ope
n and watched Beth skip down the porch steps. When she reached the bottom, she lifted her hand in a brief wave, then rounded the corner to the car. Marie waited until the car had pulled out of the driveway before closing the door and heading to Lisbeth’s bedroom.
She sat on the bed for a long moment, an odd loneliness filling her. The need to talk to someone, to share her concerns about Beth, struck hard. It wasn’t a new feeling—she’d experienced it often during her years of raising a daughter alone. But it was one to which she’d never grown accustomed.
Over the years, the need to share her life with someone had often welled up. Sally had pushed her to date, to explore relationships, but something always held her back. Fear. Fear of choosing someone who wouldn’t be able to love Beth, or who might even mistreat her. She read reports weekly in the newspaper about men abusing their stepchildren. Marie couldn’t bear the thought of bringing someone home who would prove detrimental to Beth’s well-being. So she’d always forced the loneliness aside, focusing instead on the relationship with her daughter.
But now Beth was grown, fumbling out into the world on shaky wings. It wouldn’t be long before those wings would grow strong enough for her to fly, and Marie would be alone. What would she do then for companionship? But sitting here thinking wasn’t getting her clothes put away.
Sighing, she pushed to her feet and crossed to the closet. She opened the single door and peered into the shadowy depths. Only about a dozen dresses hung there, all made from the same pattern. Although the dresses worn by Joanna and Deborah and many other women in the community were made from patterned fabric, all of Aunt Lisbeth’s were solid colors—mostly deeper shades of blue, brown, or green.
Marie pulled one out and held it at arm’s length, taking in the rounded neckline and attached modesty cape. Running her finger along the edge of the cape, she mentally compared the dress to the things in her clothes box. How her wardrobe had changed since she left Sommerfeld.
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