* * *
Daisy went to work the following morning secure in the knowledge that Vi had slept yesterday in the afternoon and into the evening. Foster and Daisy had tried the new bottles and nipples and Sammy had taken a good half bottle. That was going to work. Foster had texted Daisy while she and Jonas and Jazzi were at dinner that he’d given the baby a second feeding so Vi could sleep on even more. She’d gotten a good five hours of sleep and a few more during the night.
Jonas had seemed comfortable as he and Daisy had talked before Foster had returned home. She’d told him all about Glenda, and they’d taken turns holding Sammy. Daisy had watched Jonas bond with another little girl when they were working a murder investigation case, so she knew he liked children. Now she understood he could also handle a baby.
The tea garden was busy this morning, and Daisy didn’t have time to think about much else. However, several customers reminded her that Thanksgiving was fast approaching. The turkey she’d be buying and roasting would be a fresh one from an Amish family who raised them. She was beginning to look forward to the day and having a gathering at her house. Since her mother had done much of the planning and organizing, Daisy wanted to buy her a gift just to show her appreciation. She knew exactly what she wanted to purchase.
On her break, instead of eating lunch, she pulled on her fleece jacket, pushed her phone into one pocket and her wallet into the other, and told Tessa where she was going. Quilts and Notions, the Fishers’ store, would have exactly what she wanted for her mom.
Quilts and Notions was the kind of shop that made Daisy smile. Colorful quilts hung on the walls and from racks made for that purpose. Shelves on another wall held potholders and placemats. The area with bolts of cloth always drew Daisy to it, even though she didn’t sew. Her aunt Iris did, and Daisy had often helped her pick out material, threads, and buttons. A corner rack that spun around held books in subjects from quilts to the historic nature of Lancaster County.
Rachel Fisher was busy at the counter speaking with a woman in Pennsylvania Dutch. She lifted a hand to Daisy to let her know she’d seen her. Rachel was an attractive wife and mother, New Order Amish, who didn’t need makeup to make her look beautiful. Her hair, parted down the center and gathered in a bun at the nape of her neck, was covered by a white kapp. Their district had decided on a heart-shaped kapp, and it certainly fitted Rachel and her girls. She was a loving, kind woman who had been Daisy’s friend since childhood.
After Rachel handed the woman a bag with her purchases, she moved toward Daisy, the white strings of her kapp floating in front of her. Today Rachel was wearing a dark purple dress with her black apron. A few strands of her blond hair had pulled away from her bun and dangled along her cheek. Her blue eyes sparkled as she came over to stand with Daisy.
“What do you need today?” Rachel asked.
Besides more hours in the day or time to spend with Jonas or a good weekend for Jazzi with Portia and happier emotions for Vi? She shook her head. “Not much.”
Rachel laid a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Too much going wrong and not enough going right, ya?”
She’d always been honest with her friend—no pretense between them. Rachel and her husband, Levi, were as honest as the day was long. Daisy had come to expect forthrightness from most Amish. Their values went deep, and their way of life was humbling. Daisy admired the communal atmosphere they lived in more than she could say. Beyond all that, their faith revolved around the fact that everything was in God’s plan.
“I shouldn’t complain,” Daisy said. “I’m grateful for my blessings. I have so many.”
“But as a mom, you worry about your girls, ain’t so?” Rachel asked.
“Probably more so than I should.” Gazing into her friend’s eyes, she shared her major burden. “Vi doesn’t seem to be bouncing back since Sammy’s birth.”
“Is all well with the boppli?”
“He’s a sweetie.” Daisy sighed. “Maybe I’m making too much of everything.”
“Moms worry. That is true. But give Vi a little time.”
“I came in to buy a few potholders and placemats for my mother.”
“Things between you and your mom are better?”
“Better, except when she found out that I found Margaret’s body.”
“What a terrible thing to happen.”
“It was. Margaret’s husband came to see me. He wants me to help solve the murder.”
Rachel’s blue eyes widened. “Zas in der zelt?”
Rachel’s What in the world? was exactly what Daisy was thinking. What in the world was she thinking? She couldn’t help Rowan.
“I told him I’d talk to Vanna and Glenda, the playwright, and I did. But I don’t know if I’m going any further than that.”
“Do you want to?”
Daisy picked up a potholder with an intricate star pattern in yellow, green, and black. “I didn’t learn much. Just some background on Margaret and a little bit about Glenda. My good sense is telling me to stay out of this one.”
Touching her hand to her chest, Rachel asked, “But what is your heart telling you?”
“That Margaret was a complicated woman. Nobody deserves to die like that.”
Both women stayed silent for a bit while Daisy pulled out a potholder here and another there, and placemats she thought would accompany each other as well as the potholders.
Rachel suddenly stood with her back against the shelves, her arms crossed over her chest. Daisy knew something was coming, but she didn’t know what. The Amish didn’t like to gossip. It was another
