taxes on the place. At least the old woman listened to him about the little girl and left a tidy sum in trust for her college education. The rest went to various charities, I understand.”
“Big deal. So Mandy gets to go to college, but in the meantime she and her mother can barely scrape by. Not what I call fair.”
“Hey, don’t blame me. It’s the best Dad could do, and believe me, he had to fight for that much.” Jake looked defensive. “Why do you care so much, anyway? I know you and Ronnie were good buds in high school, but a lot of water has gone over the dam since then.”
He shrugged, having no desire to look too closely into his feelings. “No big deal. Like you said, Ronnie was a friend. I figure I owe Rachel a little support.”
He’d failed to do the right thing when he was eighteen. If he hadn’t been so intent on following that mysterious code by which teenagers lived, he might have prevented Ronnie and Rachel from a decision that had messed up several lives, as far as he could tell.
That wasn’t his only failure, of course. He was doing his best to make amends for not being here when his parents needed him. Now he had a chance to make amends to Rachel, as well, if he could figure out how. And if she would let him.
CHAPTER THREE
THE WOMAN COMING out of the market stared at Rachel with such curiosity that Rachel almost felt compelled to explain her presence. She’d forgotten that open curiosity about one’s neighbors wasn’t just tolerated in a small community like Deer Run, it was also expected. Ushering Mandy ahead of her, she slipped into the store and let the door close behind her with a jingle of its bell.
“Wow. What a cool store. Did you used to come here when you were a little girl, Mommy?” Mandy stared with fascination at a case labeled Live Bait, and Rachel suspected a question about that was coming up next.
“I did, yes. But it’s bigger now than it used to be.”
It looked as if Anna and Jacob Miller had expanded their modest grocery into the next storefront, with a whole section devoted to crafts and trinkets of the sort beloved of tourists. In a few steps Mandy, forgetting live bait, had become absorbed by a display of small wooden Amish dolls.
“Rachel Mason!” The voice boomed from the counter at the rear of the shop. “It wondered me when you’d get in here to say hello to old friends.”
“Anna.” A trickle of thankfulness ran through her at the warmth in Anna Miller’s voice. “It is wonderful gut to see you.”
She lapsed automatically into Pennsylvania Dutch and then caught herself. She’d told herself she would speak English in front of Mandy when they came back here, but she hadn’t realized how difficult it would be.
Catching Mandy’s hand, she led her daughter to the counter. “This is my little girl, Mandy. Mandy, this is Mrs. Miller.”
“Ach, I would know her for yours in a minute.” Anna beamed with satisfaction. “Mandy, do you know you look just like your mammi did at your age?”
Mandy blinked, looking at her mother as if assessing the truth of the claim. “Do I? I haven’t ever seen any pictures of Mommy when she was nine, so I didn’t know.”
“Ach, no, you wouldn’t.” Anna had the trick of talking to a child as if they were contemporaries, which had always made her a favorite with the young ones. “Your mammi was brought up Amish, like me. We don’t hold with taking photographs of people.”
A gesture indicated Anna’s blue dress and matching apron. There were more strands of gray in the brown hair smoothed back under Anna’s kapp, and she’d added another chin or two to her round face, but otherwise she was much as Rachel remembered her.
“Why?” Mandy was being curious, that was all, but had such a blunt question of an adult come from an Amish child, it would have earned a quick reprimand from a parent.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Rachel said quickly. “You can go and look at the dolls while Mrs. Miller and I talk.”
The flash in Mandy’s intelligent eyes said she knew when she was being gotten rid of, but she returned to the display counter.
“You’ve expanded the shop, I see,” Rachel said quickly. “Business must be good.”
“So-so.” Anna waggled her hand. “We get more tourists through Deer Run than we used to, so I told Jacob we had to take advantage of the trade. And there’s talk that the gas drilling they’re doing north of here will come to this area, too. That will bring in new people, I should think.”
“Do folks want to see that happen here?” From the little she’d read, it sounded as if the new methods of gas drilling caused considerable controversy.
“Some do, some don’t.” Anna’s face clouded. “The bishop fears the effect of easy money on the Leit.”
The Leit. The Amish. She hadn’t heard that expression in years. And the bishop had a typically Amish attitude, which ran exactly counter to contemporary culture, in a case like this. Making money too easily, or becoming what the world would call a success, could have a bad effect on humility, that typically Amish virtue.
“I’d think it safer to count on the tourists,” she said.
“Ja, we do. As you will, too. I hear you are going to open Mason House as a bed-and-breakfast, ain’t so?”
She nodded. News spread fast in a place like Deer Run. She’d only mentioned her plans to Colin yesterday. Of course, Anna would probably have heard through Rachel’s family, not Colin.
“I hope so. I don’t know what else to do with a house that size. It’s way too big for the two of us.” Something Amanda Mason had certainly known when she’d left her property as she had.
Anna nodded. “It’s a gut plan, I think. And it will keep you here, where you belong.”
“I’m afraid not everyone thinks I belong here.” The words slipped out before she could caution herself that they were unwise.
“Don’t you think such a thing. Your daadi will come around, you wait and see.” Anna didn’t bother pretending she didn’t know what Rachel meant. “He is being as stubborn as old Mrs. Mason, and she accepted you in the end, ja?”
Rachel wasn’t sure accepted was the right word, but she nodded. “I hope. So far Benj is the only one acting normal around me. And now you.”
“Not chust me,” Anna responded quickly. “You have plenty of friends here who will be glad to see you. And when you’re ready to open, I will be mentioning your B and B to every tourist who comes in here. Folks will want to stay at a place run by somebody raised Amish. You’ll see.”
That comment stirred up more concerns. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m trying to make money out of having been Amish.”
Anna spread plump hands, palms up. “Why not? Everyone else does, it seems. Folks say the tourists are going to komm anyway. We might as well make some money off them.”
Anna had a point. It seemed she would have to get rid of any squeamish scruples if she intended to make a go of the business.
The bell jingled, and Anna glanced automatically toward the door. “Remember what I was saying about your friends? Here is one, I see. You remember Meredith King, ja?” She raised her voice. “Meredith, look who is here. You and Rachel were great friends when you were little girls, I remember.”
Rachel turned, surveying the woman who stood giving her the once-over in return. Meredith King. Meredith lived just two houses down from Mason House, so she was practically a neighbor now.
The friendship Anna mentioned hadn’t actually lasted very long, but Rachel’s memories of her Englisch friend were oddly distinct. Meredith might no longer wear torn-at-the-knees jeans and faded T-shirts, but her glossy dark brown hair was the