The image of sunlight glinting off Jake’s blond hair dominated my musings. Somehow, I must find a way to see him.
The ticking clock prodded me to hurry. I splashed water on my face and then chose a chestnut-brown dress. I pinned on my black apron with care. I parted my hair and yanked it back, increasing the throbbing in my forehead. I planted the kapp I wore yesterday atop my head.
I glanced down at my new shoes and grinned at the evidence I was venturing out of my rut. I didn’t need to cross an ocean to do that.
As I exited the cabin, Missy frolicked over and jumped on me, leaving muddy paw prints on my apron and one shoe. “Nee, Missy.” No time to change my clothes now.
As I shambled past the big house, Beatrice poked her head out the back door. “Don’t leave yet.”
Expecting a lecture, I froze.
“Wait up, Eva. I made stock for the café out of the leftover chicken and bones from my supper the day before yesterday. I hope you don’t mind.”
I did mind not being consulted first, but I was also grateful.
“You’re an angel.” I heard a ring in my voice. “I’m making vegetable soup this morning, and your stock will improve it greatly.”
She looked me up and down. “I like that color dress on you, Eva. I wonder why some young women wear unsightly colors. But Bishop Harvey doesn’t seem to care. Never mind. God didn’t make me a man, so I’ll never be a priest, minister, or bishop.”
I had no answer for her and only wanted to be on my way to work. “How will I get the soup stock to the café?”
She laughed, her plump belly jiggling. “Are you strong enough to carry it without spilling?” She beckoned me into the kitchen and tipped her head to a lidded pot. “If need be, you can use one of the low wagons customers use for collecting plants. Or maybe Mark’s already come in. He’s so smitten with you that he might have arrived early.”
My head throbbed again. “I’ll see if I can manage.” I moved to the stove and tried to lift the pot. Its contents sloshed from side to side, warning me. “Well, maybe not. The wagon sounds like a gut idea.”
“Another good idea would be to ask Mark to pull the wagon.”
“No, I’ll try by myself.”
Beatrice shook her head. “Did you ever consider how much easier your life would be if you’d take other people’s advice more often?”
My headache amplifying her voice, snarly words danced on the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed them down. “You may be right. I’d best be concentrating on the soup. Can you tell me where a wagon is?”
“There’s one at the side of the house.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed hold of the pot’s handles and shuffled out the door before she could give me any more advice. I found myself at the bottom of the steps surrounded by Missy and Minnie, both dogs sniffing at the pot.
“Go away.” The dogs paid me no attention. They followed me around to the side of the house, where I located the wagon, and then all the way to the café.
When I reached the door, reality struck like an alarm clock chiming. I’d forgotten the key. It was sitting in the cabin on the counter next to the sink. But I couldn’t leave the soup stock unattended. Missy was large enough to tip the vat over.
“Locked out?” Stephen was headed in my direction.
“Yah.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face. “In my rush, I forgot my keys. I’m so sorry.” And embarrassed.
“No problem. Perfection is not required.”
“That’s good news.” I’d seldom felt more imperfect.
Stephen shooed the two dogs away. “I wonder where Heath is.”
“I haven’t seen him this morning, but I thought I heard barking in the night. I could’ve been dreaming.”
He glanced down at the soup stock. “Has Beatrice been helping you out?”
“Yah, and I’m most appreciative.”
“Let me carry that.” But before he lifted the pot, Stephen tried the handle and the door swung open without protest. “Huh? Did you lock up last night?”
“Yah.” I pictured myself inserting the key and then testing the door to make sure it was closed properly. “I’m certain I locked both doors and then took the key with me.”
“No broken windows. We keep a spare key in the retail shop, but I can’t imagine any of our employees using it. And Olivia used to have one. I hope she didn’t make a spare.”
Stephen lifted the pot, carried it through the dining area, and brought it into the kitchen, where he placed it on a counter. Then he canvassed the dining area. “Everything looks okay.”
I pushed a chair back into position. “I recall giving this room a thorough looking over. Including this chair. It was snug against the table.”
The corners of Stephen’s mouth angled down. “Do you think someone was in here?”
I strode to the cash register and detected a subtle residual scent of cigarette smoke. “Yah. I’m glad I took the money out and gave it to Bess.”
“And you’re sure you locked the doors?” Stephen asked.
“Positive. More than anything, I hope you don’t think I’m lying.”
“No, not for a moment.” He touched my elbow. “I thought these shenanigans were behind us. In the past we’ve had minor vandalism we attributed to Olivia’s boyfriend—if they’re even still dating. I hope not. His name’s Butch, and he’s a bad seed, but we have no proof.”
“But they’re in rumspringa, aren’t they?”
“Even so, her deacon and a minister paid a call to her parents and complained about him. That’s one reason her parents told her she couldn’t work here anymore.” He surveyed the café’s interior. “I hope there’s no damage, whoever the culprit was. In the past, we’ve had planted pots tipped over,
