“Yep, I texted him right away. There’s a three-hour difference, so I didn’t want to call and wake him.”
“I’m so happy.” Beatrice butterfly-clapped her hands. “May I let him run out during the day?”
“Well, better wait on that.” Stephen glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, making me wonder if he knew I was still afraid of Heath at a stratum so deep I couldn’t shake it.
Stephen helped himself to coffee. “The locksmith should be here soon.” He aimed his voice at me. “I don’t want you ever coming in here again and finding you’re not alone.” He paused. “No more acts of heroism, okay?”
Sunlight danced off Beatrice’s gold hoop earrings. “When Glenn and Rose return, everything will be back to normal.”
“I hope so.” Stephen sent me a furtive glance I couldn’t interpret.
I figured nothing would ever be normal again. Jake was possibly planning to marry Brandy—maybe more to spite me than to give her baby a father—and I might not join the church so I could explore a relationship with Stephen. If he were even interested.
Sadie arrived twenty minutes late, which wasn’t like her. When I met her at the back door, she looked bewildered, her posture slumped.
“Don’t waste any more of your time hoping for Mark,” she whispered. “He’s just stringing you along.” She wrestled off her jacket and hung it on a hook. “I saw him last night at the singing, all lovey-dovey with Emma, Olivia’s little schweschder. Then they both hopped in his buggy, laughing and joking as if they’d never been so happy.”
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sadie.” I couldn’t tell her under what circumstances I’d also seen the couple. Or that I was glad to be free of Mark’s attentions.
We joined Stephen and Beatrice in the kitchen. Beatrice placed a chocolate whoopie pie on a plate and sliced it into quarters, its frothy filling bulging out. “Let’s sample one of these.” She grinned as she wiped the knife on her finger and tasted the filling. Then her mouth puckered, and she spit into her palm and dumped its contents into the garbage. Coughing, she poured a glass of water and gulped it down. “We have a problem.”
“What?” I nibbled a bite, but my mouth refused to swallow the offensive taste. I washed it down with a mouthful of coffee.
Sadie burst into a ripple of laughter. “What are you doing? Playing a joke?”
“I wish.” I sipped more coffee.
“Here, give me some.” Stephen’s large hand scooped up a morsel, which he plunked in his mouth. His face contorted. He turned away and spit his bite into the garbage too. “This is terrible.” He poured some water and cleansed his mouth.
Sadie shook her head and giggled. “I’m not eating any. Is it rat poison?”
“Tastes like it.” Stephen swigged more water.
Beatrice shook her head. “I wonder if she used salt instead of sugar. We certainly can’t serve these to the customers.”
“Evie, call Olivia right away,” Stephen said.
I hated to be the bearer of bad news when Stephen had so much else to deal with. “Her brother says she’s away. Her younger sister, Emma, cooked these.”
“Why didn’t Olivia warn us?” Stephen said. “We’ll have to buy some at a local bakery.”
“All is not lost. I can easily bake corn bread and bran muffins.” Beatrice brought out a cookbook of Amish favorites. “Let’s see, I’m pretty sure we have most of the ingredients for whoopie pies. Flour, baking powder, vanilla, unsalted butter, milk, brown sugar, eggs, confectioner’s sugar, and vanilla.” She jotted down several words on a piece of paper and handed the slip to Stephen.
“While you’re out, please pick up some Marshmallow Fluff and Dutch-processed cocoa powder. Don’t worry. The local grocery store employees will know what they are. I can make whoopie pies this afternoon.” She seemed unruffled. “They may not taste as good as Olivia’s, but I can cook anything using a recipe. So can Eva. She’ll help me.”
I stiffened. “But I’ve never made whoopie pies in my life.”
Beatrice shot me a grin. “There’s a first time for everything, no?”
“But I’ll be busy—”
“Then we’ll cook them after supper. Time to experiment with new things. Like driving a car?”
“Oh.” So she’d seen me driving Stephen’s pickup. I wondered how long she’d watched us.
THIRTY
I dreaded having to call Emma and tell her the bad news. Fortunately, she was near their phone shanty—perhaps hoping to hear from Mark?—and answered on the third ring.
“Gut morning.” Emma was all giggles until I told her about our assessment of her whoopie pies. Like the flip of a switch, she flew into a rage. “You’re just jealous ’cause Mark likes me now!”
I held the receiver away from my ear to lessen her volume. So Olivia had told her about Mark’s interest in me. Well, I figured hurt feelings about the pies were spurring her on, but she needed to know the truth.
“Nee, I’m not. Emma, maybe you got the ingredients mixed up.” I couldn’t win. I was either telling her I had no interest in the man of her dreams or that she was a lousy cook.
Without saying goodbye, she hung up on me with a resonating clunk.
“Anything else you ladies need?” Stephen asked before he left. “I’m taking Heath with me just to get the poor dog out of the house.”
“Good idea.” Beatrice was already gathering ingredients for corn bread, bran muffins, and whoopie pies. “Everything will be okay. My soup will be so good today, and for this morning, we’ll have the whoopie pies you’re bringing back.”
“What would we do without you, Bea?”
“Now, now. You’d be fine.” She glanced at me. “You have Eva.”
I was bamboozled by her statement.
Later in the morning, Mark strolled into the café, but he barely glanced my way—only long enough to avoid walking right into me. Sadie sashayed over to him with a mug of coffee. He thanked her. Scanning the glass case, he said, “Where are Emma’s baked goods?”
“Still in
