He shot me a curious look I couldn’t decipher.
“Is there something more I should know?” I said.
“Not that I can think of. If you need anything, ask Beatrice. She knows how everything in the cabin works.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I gave Bess a small farewell wave. She smiled in return. “Gut to meet you,” she said as I headed outside.
Because it was only mid-April, the sun was setting on the early side. I’d lost track of time; I should have looked at the clock in the shop. I hadn’t seen a battery-operated clock in the cabin and had forgotten to bring mine.
Up ahead, the main house glowed with radiance as the pumpkin-orange sun lowered itself into a cushion of clouds. Nothing beat the glorious sunsets in Lancaster County. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. But, evidently, Jake never loved the area as I did. Or loved me as he’d professed. When we were together, he’d treated me as though I were a princess, always attentive to my needs and promising a lifetime of his devotion. But that didn’t last.
I took a shortcut past the greenhouses and onto a path along the perimeter of the Yoders’ home. A yappy terrier bolted from the back of the house and raced toward me with its ears pricked and hackles raised. My first instinct was to ball my hands under my chin, but I steadied myself and said, “Wie geht’s?” as if I spoke to dogs every day of the week.
As I neared the main house’s back porch, the screen door creaked open, and an older woman’s hoarse voice called out. “Who goes there?”
“Just me. Eva Lapp.” I moved toward the portly woman I’d always supposed was in her late sixties. She was wearing metal-rimmed spectacles and a mid-calf black skirt. Her salt-and-pepper hair was parted in the center and pulled severely into a bun. No head covering. And gold hoop earrings, of all things. In the past I’d had hankerings to try on earrings, but had resisted.
“I recognize you from Zook’s.” She stepped out onto the porch. “My name is Beatrice, in case you can’t remember.”
“How nice to see you again.” I feigned a cheerful expression. One way or another, she was my neighbor, and I needed to find common ground with her. “I heard you’re house-sitting.”
“Yes. I live on the third floor. Since Edna left, I’m the housekeeper, and I help take care of the Yoders’ little girl when Rose is busy making her birdhouses.”
“It looks like a wonderful home.”
“But too big for one person. Although Glenn Yoder lived here all by himself for years.” She came down the steps and stared back at the structure with vacant eyes. “Living alone is sad and lonely. I’m a widow, you must know.” She sniffed. “I’ve been at odds ever since my husband died.”
“I was sorry to hear of your loss.”
She worked her mouth. “So sorry you didn’t come to his funeral?”
“I wanted to, but I had a terrible head cold. Coughing and sneezing. I was bedridden. My mother said I shouldn’t spread the germs.”
She humphed. “Even Jake Miller came back for the funeral.”
“He did?” Obviously, Beatrice knew about my past with Jake, but I was too stunned that no one had told me he’d been at that funeral to care. Now more than ever I wished I’d been able to attend. But my nose had been red and drippy. Truth is, Jake could have visited me while he was in the area, but he never even made a call to the phone shanty. Maybe he’d brought a wife with him. I was dying to ask Beatrice, but I didn’t want to give her more fuel for animosity toward me.
“His mother and I grew up next door to each other,” she said, “where she still lives with her husband, Amos, and raised their family. Ruth occasionally invites me to her quilting frolics.” She chortled. “You know how the Amish enjoy gossip.”
I didn’t appreciate her condescending remark, but I sucked in my lips. Not that her statement was false. Sometimes the Amish grapevine spread rumors faster than the Internet. Or so I’d been told, never having used a computer or a smartphone.
She pointed a gnarled finger up to a window on the third floor of the main house. “That’s my bedroom. I can see your little cabin perfectly from my room, so don’t expect to be entertaining men.”
“I don’t plan to.” Other than riding home from several singings with fellows who held no interest, and then in Jake’s buggy and a couple of times in his ill-fated car, I’d never been courted. “I’m not dating anyone.”
She peered down her hooked nose. “Just today I spotted Stephen alone with you for the longest time.”
“We were speaking strictly about business, and the door was open.” I had nothing to be ashamed of and yet felt warmth in my cheeks. I remembered reading The Scarlet Letter, a book borrowed from the library. Did I wear a sign on my chest?
The terrier sniffed my ankles. “That’s Minnie. She won’t hurt you, but she’s a good little watchdog.”
I dropped my hand to the dog’s level and forced myself to scratch the wiry fur between her ears. “Gut. If she barks at night, I’ll know to lock my door.”
Beatrice dipped her hand into a pocket and brought out a key. “Did Stephen give you a key?”
“Yes. Thanks, I’m all set.”
She shrugged. “If you ever get locked out, you can come to me.” I realized her comment was an act of kindness, but her face remained stony, her mouth severe. Was this a woman I wanted working in the café? I couldn’t imagine asking her to do anything I couldn’t do for myself. And I doubted she could run a cash register.
“I’d best go unpack.” I pivoted toward the cabin. “Then I should call my parents to tell them I’m okay. Is there a phone shanty nearby?”
“No, but there’s a phone in the café and
