Paul walked up to Mark, swiped his finger through a clump of cream filling and stuck it in his mouth. “She and that dog together are a menace, but you have to admit she makes a fine dessert.”
“Go away.”
Paul held out his finger. “Just one more lick?”
“Paul.” Mark bit out the name with as much threat as he could manage.
“Okay, okay, I’m going. It’s sad to say, because today has been mighty entertaining, but I don’t think we will see much of Helen Zook for a while.”
“I hope not.”
Fannie came down with a wet napkin in her hand. “I thought you might need this.”
He took it and began wiping the front of his shirt. “I’ve never met anyone like that woman.”
“I know. Clyde has taken a shine to her and to you. Isn’t that wunderbarr?”
He looked up in amazement, but Fannie was already heading back up the hill chuckling to herself.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and uneventfully, for which Mark was grateful. The work was hard, but it was satisfying when the jam finally broke free and washed under the bridge. They had gathered enough wood to keep a good many homes warm during the coming winter.
Exhausted and determined not to think about the outspoken and annoying Helen Zook or the troubling letter from Angela, Mark went up to bed not long after supper. With a cool evening breeze blowing through the open window beside him, he fell sound asleep just minutes after his head hit the pillow.
Until the howling began.
Charlotte entered the kitchen the morning after the frolic and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Something smells wunderbarr. What are you making?”
After a sleepless night, Helen had been up mixing, kneading and watching her dough rise for over three hours already, and it was barely seven o’clock. “I’m making chocolate almond crescent rolls.”
Because she was unsure if the oven temperature was accurate on her aunt’s ancient propane model, she had put only four rolls on her baking sheet to test them first. They were done to a beautiful golden brown. She slid them onto a plate on the table and set the pan aside to cool while she rolled up another dozen. Now if only her decision to see Mark Bowman later today would turn out half so well. She wiped her damp brow with the back of her arm and then rolled up her sleeves.
“May I have one of these?” Charlotte took two from the plate on the kitchen table without waiting for Helen to answer her.
“Help yourself. I’m taking them with me when I go to ask for a job today. I hope Mark Bowman likes them, and I hope he doesn’t end up wearing them.”
It had occurred to her a little before 3:00 a.m. that it was highly unlikely that today could turn out worse than yesterday, but at least she wouldn’t have Clyde or Juliet to hinder her. She planned to go alone to the Bowman workshop.
If Mark would see her, and if she made a sincere effort to apologize, and if she could convince him that she desperately needed a job, he might offer her employment. And if he liked her chocolate almond pastry as much as he had seemed to like her ham and cheese rolls yesterday, she wasn’t above using them as a sweetener. It was a lot of ifs, but what choice did she have?
“Why would Mark Bowman want to wear your baked goods?”
Helen drew a deep breath and smiled fondly at her aunt. “I have no idea, but I desperately hope he will offer me a job. He should. I’ve had experience working in the fabric shop in Nappanee. I worked in a hardware store for a summer, but I didn’t care for the man who ran it. He was creepy. I’m conscientious. I’m hardworking. I’m a quick learner. I would be an asset to any business, even one run by a rude, judgmental and annoying fellow like Mark Bowman.”
“I don’t think he’s annoying. Did you let Clyde out this morning?” Charlotte stood in the middle of the kitchen turning in slow circles. She bent down to look under the table then moved the trash can to look behind it as if the dog might have become paper thin overnight.
“I did not.”
“He isn’t in the house. I’ve looked everywhere, and Juliet is missing, too.” Charlotte opened the door to the cellar and called down the steps, “Clyde, come here, boy.”
Helen placed her batch of rolls in the oven, wound the kitchen timer and set it beside the stove. “I’ll go outside and look for them in a few minutes. I’m sure they are playing in the yard. You mentioned that Juliet can open a door when she wants to. Was the back door open?”
“I believe it was. I’ll look, you finish what you’re doing.” Charlotte went to the back of the house. She returned a few minutes later. “They aren’t outside. I called and called. Clyde never misses a meal, and neither does Juliet. Something is wrong.”
“I’m sure they are fine.” Helen realized she hadn’t heard or seen the dog and raccoon all morning. That was unusual.
Charlotte’s eyes widened. She pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Someone has stolen them.”
Helen caught herself before she laughed aloud. She struggled to speak in a reasonable tone. “Aenti, calm yourself. Who would want to steal your pets?”
“I’ve read that the Englisch people make hats out of raccoons, and Clyde is a very valuable animal. Why, the bishop’s wife remarked on his amazingly long ears just yesterday. Oh, the nerve of that woman to take him from my house. Well, she can’t have him. I’m going right over there and tell her so.”
Helen caught her aunt by the arm as she marched toward the kitchen door. “Nee, you are not going to accuse the bishop’s wife of dognapping. She said his ears were foolishly long for such a squat-bodied hund. I was standing right beside you when she said it.”
“I heard her say his ears were luxuriously long, and she deeply admired such a dog.”
Clearly her aunt heard only what she wanted to hear when people were talking about her pets. “Even if she admired him, she wouldn’t steal him.”
“You don’t know that woman. Her family is from Nappanee.”
“So is your family.”
“Exactly!”
Helen caught the sound of distant barking. “I think I hear him.”
“You do?” Charlotte rushed to the door and pulled it open. “Clyde! Where are you?”
Helen moved to stand beside her aunt. Dawn was turning the eastern sky a pale gold color beyond the tree-covered ridge to the east. “I’m sure it was him.”
The barking started again, closer now. Charlotte pressed her hands to her chest. “I hear him, too. It is Clyde. Come here, baby boy.”
She rushed outside just as a horse and buggy turned off the main road and rolled up her lane. The barking, louder and more frantic now, was coming from the buggy. Helen stepped out onto the porch but almost turned and scurried back into the house when she saw Mark Bowman was driving. What was he doing here? The barking was definitely coming from his buggy. Why did he have Clyde with him?
Mark started to step down, but her aunt planted herself in front of him with one hand on her hip as she shook a finger in his face. “How dare you! I never would have suspected a Bowman of such dastardly behavior.”
“What?” He looked utterly confused. Helen knew exactly how he felt.
Charlotte folded her arms over her ample chest. “Stealing is a sin and beneath you, Mark Bowman, but I forgive you, since you have returned him.”
Mark looked at Helen. “What is