Like many Amish who no longer found employment on the farm, she still maintained a small stable and a buggy horse to carry her and her mother to church meetings and other gatherings. He had seen their neat white house and little stable on the street behind the inn. Why was she embarrassed about a little straw on her skirt? Taking the rag from her, he began to wipe the tiles free of the excess mortar.
“You missed a spot.”
He leaned back and looked over his work. “Where?”
Taking up a second rag, she knelt beside him and began wiping at a spot he had already done. Finishing, she leaned back to study her work, then began wiping again. As she concentrated, her tongue peeked out from between her lips. How kissable she looked.
He pulled his gaze away from her face as his neck grew hot. Why on earth was he thinking about kissing her? That kind of loose thinking belonged to his past. She was a respectable Amish woman. Maybe his father was right and he couldn’t give up his English ways after so many years.
Nee, I refuse to accept that.
Returning to his Amish family was the best decision he’d ever made. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was what he believed God wanted him to do.
He concentrated on his work. When Emma followed behind him going over the same places he did, he finally stopped and sat back on his heels. “You don’t get a discount for helping me.”
She gave her spot a final swipe. “Perhaps I should.”
“If the work isn’t to your satisfaction, you may say so.” He held his breath. He really needed this job. He was determined to prove to his father that he could live Amish again. Earning a living was a first step.
“The work looks good enough,” she admitted slowly.
His hopes rose. “I can start with the shutters now, if you like.”
“Come back in the morning. And be careful taking that ladder out of here.”
“I will. I don’t want to break any of Grandma Yoder’s delicious jams,” he teased.
Folding her rag, she casually began wiping the tiles again. “You like Grandma Yoder’s products?”
“They’re the best. Especially the gooseberry jam.”
A tiny smile flashed across her face. It disappeared quickly, but not so quickly that he missed it. He had been right. It made her plain face almost pretty.
Chapter Five
The following morning, Adam was waiting in the lobby when Emma came in to start her day. She glanced at the tall grandfather clock in the corner. It was three minutes until six.
Adam shot to his feet, a bright grin on his face. “Guder mariye, Emma. Have you a list of jobs for me?”
Her mother was right. He did have a nice smile. And he was eager to get to work. She liked that. She tipped her head toward him. “Good morning to you, too. Yes, I have a list of things that need doing.”
Behind the front desk, Mr. Parker leaned his elbows on the polished oak countertop. “Make sure he gets the ice off those gutters before they tear loose.”
“It’s on my list, Henry,” she replied.
To her surprise, some of the color left Adam’s face.“I won’t be able to do that for you,” he said.
Henry blew out a huff of exasperation. “Too bad, because they’re calling for more snow this weekend. Are those the breakfast rolls, Emma?”
Henry came around the counter to take the basket of muffins and rolls Emma carried. Their four guests would be down soon for their continental-style breakfast. When Henry lifted the heavy towel to peek inside, the aroma of the hot cinnamon rolls filled the air.
She glanced at Adam. His eyes brightened. “Those smell wunderbaar. Makes me wish I was a guest here.”
How could she resist such a blatant appeal? “Help yourself, Mr. Troyer.”
“Danki, but call me Adam.” He selected one. When he bit into it, his eyes closed and he made a small sound of satisfaction that did her heart good. He liked her baked goods.
She might be a plain old maid but she could cook. The prideful thought brought her back to earth with a thud. Every gift was God-given and not of her making. Humility was one of the cornerstones of her faith. Pride was a sin.
Heading to the sideboard in the dining room, she began setting out plates, cups and juice glasses. With everything arranged to her satisfaction, she spun around and almost collided with Adam. She couldn’t back up with the sideboard behind her. Those crazy butterflies took flight again in her midsection.
After licking the last bit of icing from his finger, he said, “Are you the goot cook or is it your mother?”
“I’m sure my mother is the better cook, but I made the rolls this morning.”
“It would be hard to make a better cinnamon roll than that.” Reaching out, he brushed at her temple. Shocked, she pulled back and saw he held a long piece of straw between his fingers.
He smiled softly. Her heart faltered. “Wouldn’t want the guests to think you’ve been rolling in the hay.”
“Danki.” She sidled past him and hurried toward her office. Inside, she shut the door and leaned against it as she worked to calm her racing pulse. “How am I going to work with that man around?”
Chapter Six
What was it about Adam Troyer? Why did he have such an unsettling effect on her nerves? He was a simple handyman. He wasn’t even that handsome.
Okay, he was, she admitted, but she’d never been susceptible to such shallow things before.
It wasn’t even that he looked like William. Will had been only a few inches taller than she was. He hadn’t towered over her making her feel small. His white-blond hair had looked like a sleek halo in the sunlight, not like the curly mess that topped Adam’s head. Where Adam was always smiling, Will had been serious and earnest. As she always tried to
