“The morning the twins were eavesdropping,” Jude recalled with a sigh. “It’s been such an emotional roller-coaster ride since they overheard the truth about Frieda. I’m sorry they’ve put you through so much, Leah.”
“Ah, but I haven’t been alone during this ordeal,” she pointed out as she turned in his arms. “I’ve had you by my side. And I feel we’ve reached a resolution with Alice and Adeline, because now we have support from our mothers and your brother. We’re not facing the girls’ rudeness alone.”
“Their misbehavior finally caught up to them, in front of tongues that wagged—and a bishop who won’t accept excuses for bad behavior,” Jude remarked softly. “I confess that I’ve wondered how things have been going for Jeremiah and our mamms these past couple of days—but not enough that I want to call home and find out!”
Leah laughed, reveling in the warmth of Jude’s embrace—and in the strength he revealed by sharing his thoughts and misgivings with her. She suspected that many of her friends’ husbands kept their feeling to themselves, and she felt blessed that Jude could show his vulnerability to her—could admit he didn’t have all the answers, and that he wasn’t always in control of his children or his fears.
“Mary and Martha must be cooking something really wonderful for dinner,” she said, inhaling deeply. “Can you smell it? What do you suppose it is?”
“We should go downstairs and find out, so they don’t have to wait for us,” Jude replied. “Bram has been kind enough to take on a couple of sales I was supposed to call this week, so the least I can do is help him stay on schedule.”
When they stepped out of their cozy room, Leah once again drank in the simple beauty of the Kanagys’ huge double home, which had been designed so each couple had separate living quarters on either side of the guest rooms in the center. Mary and Martha’s dat, Amos Koblentz, was a much sought-after carpenter, and he’d built many lovely features into the residence he’d given his twin daughters for their wedding gift.
The gleaming wooden staircase that spiraled down into the oversize dining room made Leah feel as though she were a queen descending to the main floor of a castle—even though Nate and Bram had pointed out that the staircase’s design had saved considerable space, compared to what a traditional stairway with a large landing would’ve required. Hardwood floors added a luxurious sense of warmth to the room, which housed four extended walnut tables—with enough seating to accommodate the uppermost number of guests the Kanagys could host.
“I understand why our linoleum floors at home are practical,” Leah said wistfully, “but this wood is so pretty. It adds such warmth to the room, even if it’s more work to maintain.”
Mary and Martha emerged from the kitchen with two large platters, their blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re Plain, so we’ll share our decorating secret,” one of the redheads teased.
“Jah, you’re walking on vinyl flooring that’s made to look like hardwood,” the other twin put in. “After visiting a few other country inns, we knew our place had to have a look that English folks would feel was homey—”
“But we didn’t want to spend a lot of time buffing and polishing wood floors. So Dat came to our rescue,” her sister finished. As Mary and Martha gazed around their dining room with obvious delight, Leah recalled that Mary wore her kapp strings behind her head while Martha let them hang down the front of her dress—their subtle way of dressing differently so guests could tell them apart.
“This is amazing,” Jude said as he knelt to run his fingertips over the flooring. “I’d install this sort of flooring at our place in a heartbeat, but my brother the bishop would be the first one to tell me I was being extravagant—showing off—if I replaced our gray linoleum with this stuff.”
The sisters shared a chuckle, their noses crinkling identically. “Bishop Vernon helped our dat with the cabinets and finishing work, and he was amazed at how fine the flooring appeared, too,” Martha said.
“Jah, he almost told us to send it back and get linoleum—until Dat showed him that it was an upgraded version of vinyl flooring,” Mary recalled.
“Bishop Vernon is a special man,” Leah said as she gazed again at the beautiful details of the room. “I doubt Morning Star’s Bishop Jeremiah would allow Amish folks to operate a bed and breakfast.”
“Jah, a couple of years ago one of our families had the opportunity to take over a local hotel, and Jeremiah nixed that transaction,” Jude said. “He didn’t like the idea that some of the guests rented rooms for a few hours in the daytime—couples who might’ve been married, but not to each other,” he added with a raised eyebrow. “Not the sort of business Plain people should be involved with.”
The redheads’ eyes widened. “Bishop Vernon had a few qualms about that as well,” Mary said with a nod, “but he gave us permission to run an inn because Nate and Bram have their auction barn on the property—and we’re out here in the middle of nowhere—”
“And we require that folks make an advanced reservation with a deposit and stay at least one night,” Martha put in. “Most of them stay longer.”
“Bishop Vernon and his wife were the first guests to reserve a room, so they know firsthand about the accommodations,” Mary said with a chuckle. “Some mornings he pops in for breakfast, too, because he likes to talk to the people who come here from so many places—”
“And because he thinks you girls bake the best breads and cinnamon rolls he’s ever tasted,” Bram teased as he came inside with his brother.
Nate, the taller and older of the two men, slung his arms around Mary’s and Martha’s shoulders. “Bishop Vernon
