Hide in Plain Sight

by Marta Perry

  “It’s beautiful.” Drawn to touch, she stroked the colors. “Your mother was an artist.”

  Emma shook her head. “Just usual work. She was quick with the needle, I remember.”

  That was the closest thing to pride she’d ever heard from Emma.

  “Here is one that belongs in your room.” Emma pulled back the sheet on the second quilt. “Do you remember?”

  Remember? She couldn’t speak as the pattern came into view, myriads of diamonds expanding from the center in vivid and unexpected bursts of color. She touched it gently. How many nights had she fallen asleep trying to count the number of diamonds in the quilt?

  “I remember,” she said softly, her throat going tight. “Your mother made this one, too, didn’t she?”

  Emma nodded, her plain face softening a little at Andrea’s reaction. “Sunshine and Shadow. It was her favorite pattern.”

  “Is that what it’s called? I don’t think I ever knew. I can see why—the alternating bands of dark and light are like the bands of sunlight and shadow made by the rails of a fence.”

  Emma traced a line of dark patches. “It’s the pattern of life. Sometimes sun, sometimes shadow. Like Scripture says, ‘To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under Heaven.’ But always God is with us.”

  The words squeezed her heart. Would Emma consider Levi one of the dark bands? She never seemed to show disappointment or sorrow with him. Maybe this was the moment to ask, but Andrea couldn’t seem to force the words out.

  “I should put it in a guest room, though, not keep it for myself.” But her hands clung to the quilt. Or maybe to the memory of how safe she’d felt, sleeping under it.

  Emma shook her head in a decided way. “Your grandmother ordered it from my mother just for you, when she knew you were coming to live here. It made her so happy to fix that room up for you, and how she smiled when it was all finished.”

  The image came clear in her mind, even from those few words. A younger Emma, a younger Grams, spreading the quilt on her bed, Grams’s face lit with pleasure.

  “Those were happy times, when we were here,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as choked as it felt.

  “Yes.” Emma seemed to be looking back, too. “It was good, all of you children together, those days when the house was so full. We are in the daadi haus, now, Eli and Levi and me, and Samuel and his family have the farmhouse.”

  Andrea sat back on her heels, her arms filled with the quilt. “Does it grieve you, that Levi won’t have a family of his own?”

  Emma considered for a moment. “No, not grieve. He is as God chose to make him. I accept that as God’s will.”

  The question she had to ask stuck in her throat, and she pushed it out. “I thought I saw Levi one night from my window. Does he go out after dark by himself?”

  “No.” The expression on Emma’s face couldn’t be disguised. Fear. Stark, unreasoning fear filled her face before she bent over the chest, hiding it. “No.” Her voice was muffled. “Levi does not go out after nightfall. It would not be right.”

  Something cold closed around Andrea’s heart. The unthinkable had happened. Emma was lying to her.

  Cal walked into the hallway of the inn from the kitchen and paused, looking around. He hadn’t been in since the painters finished, and he let out a low whistle. Katherine should be pleased. The Three Sisters Inn was a showplace, all right, with the parlors restored to their former grandeur. He might not know much about decorating, but he knew elegant when he saw it.

  He put his hand on the newel post, sturdy now since he’d finished the repairs. Emma had said that Andrea needed some help moving things up in the guest rooms. He couldn’t very well say no, but he wouldn’t mind a little more time elapsing before seeing her again.

  He’d told her things he hadn’t told anyone else. He’d like to say he didn’t know why, but that wouldn’t be true. He knew. He cared about her. That was why.

  It wouldn’t go anywhere, that caring, and she knew that as well as he did. They were too different, and the life she prized was one that he’d never return to.

  He started up the stairs. Well, she’d probably be as eager as he was to restore some barriers between them.

  He reached the open center hallway on the second floor and glanced around. The doors stood open to the guest rooms—four on this floor, three more upstairs. Andrea was nowhere to be seen, so he went on up the narrower staircase to the third floor.

  The rooms here were smaller and didn’t seem quite finished. It looked as if Andrea had been putting most of her efforts into the second floor.

  A loud thud sounded somewhere over his head, startling him. He yanked open the door to the attic stairway. “Andrea?” He bolted up the stairs.

  “I’m all right.” Her voice reassured him as he opened the second door at the top of the stairs.

  “Good thing. I thought that was you. What are you trying to do?” He picked his way through pieces of furniture to where she stood.

  “I want to take this stand down to the blue bedroom.” She tugged at the recalcitrant piece that lay fallen on its side, obviously the thud he’d heard. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

  “It’s solid mahogany.” He bent to shift it upright, and then took a step back, looking at it. “Nice piece. What’s that?” Something had fallen out when the door on the front of the stand swung open.

  Andrea picked up several oversize green books. “Grandfather’s ledgers.” She dusted them off with the tail of her pale blue shirt and flipped one open. “Goodness, this dates back to before I was born.”

  “Seems like a funny place to store them.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Rachel, getting the place ready to turn into an inn. Things that were in her way got stuck into the most unimaginable places. We really should do some serious sorting and organizing. These ledgers should be kept for their part in Unger house history, if nothing else.”

  She bent over the book. For a moment she was engrossed in her find, and he could watch her as closely as he wanted. With her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and a streak of dirt on her cheek, she didn’t look much like the sleek urban professional.

  She glanced up, catching his grin before he could erase it. “What’s funny?”

  “Just thinking you look a little different, that’s all.”

  “You try rummaging through this attic without getting dirty, in spite of Emma’s ferocious cleaning,” she said. “You certainly were right about this place. Grams could start selling things off to an antique dealer and fund the inn for the foreseeable future.”

  “Your grandmother mentioned some interest from one of the local antique dealers, but she’s reluctant to part with anything. Or maybe the prospect of sorting seems overwhelming. Are you ready to start an inventory?”

  “Don’t tempt me.” She glanced around as if she’d like to do just that. “You wouldn’t believe the stash of handmade quilts Emma and I found up here this morning.”

  Any potential embarrassment had evaporated in the face of Andrea’s calm attitude. She’d found her way back to an easy friendliness, and that was for the best.

  “Something you can use, I take it?”

  She nodded, but the smile slid from her face. “I had a chance to sound her out about Levi. She insists that he’s never out alone at night, so he couldn’t be the person I saw.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  She looked at him, distress filling her eyes. “I’ve known her most of my life. I’d have said she’d never lie. But no, I didn’t believe her.”

  Her voice shook a little on the words, and he knew how much it hurt her.

  “I’m sorry. Look, it may not mean anything. If it was Levi, he hasn’t come back. Nothing’s happened for a couple of days. Whoever he was, our prowler seems to be scared off.”

  She nodded. “And now that I’ve mentioned it, I’m sure Emma will make sure that Levi doesn’t do any late-night wandering.”

  “Right.” I
t was worth agreeing to see the concern fade from her eyes. He just hoped they were right and the prowler was a thing of the past.

  He seized the stand. “Well, shall we get this downstairs?”

  “Yes, thanks. I appreciate the help. Rachel’s coming home in a couple of days, and the opening is in less than a week.” She tried to take the other side, but he pulled it away from her.

  “I’ve got it. Just do the doors for me.”

  “Macho,” she said, teasing, and went to open the door.

  He muscled the stand down the stairs and around the bend at the bottom. Andrea closed the door while he leaned against the wall, trying not to breathe hard.

  “Let’s leave it here until I have a chance to clean it.”

  He nodded and started down the next flight of stairs. “Anytime you want heavy moving done, you know who to call.”

  She followed him. “But—did you want something, before I waylaid you with the stand?”

  “Emma sent me upstairs. Guess she thought you could use an extra hand.”

  “My thanks to both of you.” She paused as they approached the landing. “That sounded like the side door.” She passed him and hurried on down the stairs.

  When they reached the bottom, no one was there. She glanced into the library. “Margaret.” She didn’t sound especially welcoming. He couldn’t say he blamed her.

  Margaret scurried across the room, holding out an armload of peonies. “I just brought these in for your sister. I hope you don’t mind—I thought they might cheer her long recuperation. Hello, Cal. You’re here again, I see.”

  He nodded. It was probably best to ignore the comment.

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Andrea took the flowers. “But why did you come in the side? Wasn’t the front door open?”

  “I didn’t.” Margaret looked surprised. “I came in the front.”

  He’d have said the sound had been from the side door, too. Odd.

  There was a rap at the front door, and James Bendick popped his head in. “Andrea—oh, there you are. And Margaret.” He came in, holding a bouquet of pink roses. “I heard Rachel is coming home, so I brought her these, but someone beat me to it. Margaret, those must be straight from your beautiful borders.”

  Margaret batted her eyes at him. “You’re such a flatterer, James.”

  “This was sweet of you, Uncle Nick.” Andrea took the flowers, putting the ledgers down on the drop leaf table in the hallway to do so.

  Bendick seemed to be determined to ignore him. Perversely, Cal leaned against the newel post, wondering how long it would take for the man to acknowledge his presence.

  “Those look like some of your grandfather’s old ledgers.” Bendick flipped one open. “Dating back to the Dark Ages, I see.”

  “Cal and I found them in the attic. I thought Grams might enjoy seeing them.”

  Having Cal forced on his attention, Bendick nodded. “Burke. Helping out, are you?”

  “Just doing the heavy moving.” Cal pushed away from the post. “I’ll be going, Andrea. Give me a call if you need anything else brought down.”

  “I will. And thank you, Cal.”

  If her smile was anything to go by, Andrea must have bought his suggestion that they’d seen the last of their prowler. He just hoped he was right.

  He went quickly past the parlors to the side door, reached for it, and then stopped.

  The side door was the only one where someone entering wasn’t likely to be seen, either from the kitchen or the library. It had been locked when he’d come over. He’d tried it first before entering through the kitchen.

  Now the door stood ajar. Someone had come in. Or gone out.

  ELEVEN

  Andrea sank down in a kitchen chair, grateful for the mug of coffee Emma set in front of her. The morning was only half over, but she’d been working nonstop. It was time to take a break.

  Grams sat at the end of the table with her usual cup of tea. “Do you think the bedroom for Rachel is all right? I hate the idea of putting her in the maid’s room.”

  “It’s fine,” she said quickly, before Grams could get the idea of making a change after all the work they’d already done to prepare a ground floor room for Rachel’s homecoming. “She has to be on this floor because of the wheelchair, and that room is perfect. It has its own bath.”

  “She will be close to the kitchen,” Emma added, stirring something in the large yellow mixing bowl. “She will like that, she will.”

  Obviously Emma was on her side in this. Neither of them wanted to start rearranging furniture at this point.

  “Once she’s home, we can see if there’s anything else we can do to make her more comfortable,” Andrea pointed out.

  “I suppose you’re right.” Grams still looked a bit doubtful, probably over the idea of a daughter of the house being relegated to the maid’s room. Rachel had certainly lived in worse when she was in culinary school, but Grams wouldn’t want to hear that.

  “What are you making, Emma?” A change of subject was in order.

  “Rachel’s favorite cake. Banana walnut.” She emptied a cup of walnuts into the mixture. “Black walnuts from our own tree will make it extra good.”

  She inhaled the scent of bananas and walnuts. “Smells wonderful. I’d best stay away while it’s baking, or I might be tempted to get into it before Rach gets home tomorrow.”

  Rachel home tomorrow, and the grand opening on the weekend. That would go well—it had to. Of course it would be a shame that Rachel couldn’t make her special breakfasts, but Emma would serve hearty Amish meals instead and the guests would be delighted.

  And once that was over, she could make plans to get back to work. They would need more help after she left, of course, but Emma’s daughter-in-law seemed eager for the work, and she’d pay the salary herself, if necessary.

  She glanced at Grams, wondering how she’d feel if Andrea inquired more closely into her finances. She’d opened up a little, but Andrea still didn’t feel she had a good handle on how secure Grams was.

  And then there was the other regret. Cal. Her mind drifted toward the night they’d kissed, and she pulled it firmly back. There was no sense in thinking about what might have been. They both recognized the attraction and the caring, but the differences between them were just too great.

  Still, she couldn’t ignore that sense of loss.

  “I’m just relieved we’ve had no further problems with prowlers,” Grams said. “I’d hate to have our guests upset. Those lights were a fine idea.”

  Grams didn’t know, of course, about the other incidents, and Andrea had no intention of telling her. There were too many possibilities for troublemakers—Levi, sneak thieves, teenagers intent on vandalism, even the holdouts in the community who were opposed to the decision to open the inn. It didn’t really matter who it was, as long as it stopped.

  “Andrea?” Grams was looking at her questioningly.

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. There’s nothing more to worry about.”

  Grams reached across the table to touch her hand lightly. “Thanks to you. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

  Andrea clasped her grandmother’s hand, the fragility of fine bones under the skin making her aware again that Grams needed taking care of. “I loved doing it.”

  “You have so much business sense.” Grams’s eyes grew misty. “Just like your grandfather.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to be compared to her grandfather, but she knew that to Grams it was a high compliment. “Thank you.”

  “I’m thinking it’s time I turned my business affairs over to you. Nick has been very helpful, of course, but he’s not family. You’ll do it, won’t you?”

  For a moment she couldn’t speak. If she’d needed anything to assure her that Grams thought of her as a competent adult, this would do it.

  “Of course I will.” She blinked back surprising moisture in her eyes. “I’d be honored.”

  “That is good.” Emma used a
spatula to get the last bit of batter into the pan and then smoothed the surface with a practiced swirl. “‘There is a time to every purpose under Heaven.’” She quoted again the words she’d said earlier, and they seemed to resonate. “A time to turn things over to the younger generation. Eli and me, we still have plenty to do, but now it’s our son’s turn to manage.”

  “The Amish know how to do it right,” Grams said, smiling. “They build the daadi haus for the older couple and turn the farm over to the next generation. Everyone has a role to fill.”

  “Ja.” Emma carried the oblong pan over to the old gas range that took up half of one wall. “It is good to know where you belong.”

  She bent over, cake pan in one hand, and pulled open the oven door with the other.

  There was a loud whooshing sound. Before Andrea could move, flames shot out of the oven, right in Emma’s face.

  Cal sat beside Andrea on the patio wall, waiting. The paramedics were in the kitchen with Emma. So was her husband, Eli. He and Andrea had been relegated to the outside as unnecessary.

  Levi stood next to the gray buggy that was pulled up in the driveway. He’d buried his face in the horse’s mane, and once in a while his shoulders shook.

  “Do you think I should attempt to comfort him?” Andrea said softly.

  He shook his head. “I tried, just before you came out. It seemed to make him worse, so I gave up. He’ll be all right as soon as he knows his mother is fine.”

  “Is she?” Andrea’s lips trembled, and she pressed them together in a firm line.

  He covered her hand with his where it lay on the stone wall between them, and the irrelevant thought passed through his mind that when she was gone, he wouldn’t be able to look at this wall in the same way.

  “I’m sure she will be.” He hoped he sounded positive.

  Her fingers moved slightly under his. “You didn’t see. It was awful. Thank goodness Grams knew what to do. She had a wet towel on Emma’s face before I’d even figured out what happened.”

  “I don’t suppose you ever saw a gas oven blow out. She probably has. It used to be a fairly common accident, years ago. Since most of the Amish cook with gas, it still happens—did while I was staying out at the Zimmerman place, but luckily no one was hurt.”