First, I thank God for this amazing opportunity. Thanks always to my wonderfully supportive husband, Kevin. Thanks also to my beta readers, particularly Alyson, who noted to the Iowa crew that my interest in romance novels was more than just a way of avoiding doing dishes years ago. But this is for you, Genna. I couldn’t have done it without you. May there be many more to come. Contents Note to Readers “I wonder if the new owner will change the name? It’d be strange to have it no longer be Fisher Furniture.” Jacob’s words were barely audible over the humming of the lathe. The blood drained from Ruth Fisher’s face. She hadn’t considered that possibility. Oh, Daed, if missing you wasn’t enough, how can I bear to see your name removed from the business you built? The end of her nose prickled as she swallowed against the lump in her throat. Widening her eyes against threatening tears, Ruth willed her coworker not to look up from his focus on the spinning chair leg until she eliminated any trace of the effect his words had had on her. She glanced around the workshop to ensure the few others working in the extensive room weren’t paying attention, before tipping her head back and blinking any telltale traces away. No one would see her cry. The others understood her grief. Friends and neighbors as well as employees of her father’s furniture business had helped her through his difficult passing and funeral. But they were moving on. When Ruth moved on, it would be away from her daed’s legacy. She’d made a promise. She swallowed again, this time against a flash of nausea at the reminder of her recent resolution. It took pinching the skin between her thumb and forefinger to stop any renegade tears. But when Jacob looked up, he was met with clear eyes behind her safety glasses. “Ach, Ruth, I—I thought you were Isaac,” he stammered, his face flushing to match his red hair. “He was busy, so I brought the chisels over.” She set them on the bench beside him. “I—I... It was on my mind as they moved in this weekend.” Ruth didn’t have to ask who “they” were. Jacob’s family farm was a mile from the Yoder farmstead, empty since Atlee died last winter. Empty until the new owner of Fisher Furniture had bought it. “My daed and brothers stopped by to see if they needed any help. Mamm and Lydia took a basket of bread and canned goods.” Jacob was obviously excited at the prospect of new neighbors. “Lydia was glad to see that none of the three newcomers had beards.” Ruth could just imagine. If none of the men had beards, then they were all single. Jacob’s sister was in her rumspringa. Potential courtship and future mates were much on a young woman’s mind during her run-around years. Particularly a girl like Lydia. “Hopefully they are good workers, beardless or no.” Ruth had different priorities. Even though she’d no longer be part of the business, she wanted to see it succeed. “How are the chairs coming for the Portage order?” They had recently entered into business with a furniture dealer in one of the larger towns nearby. Jacob’s eyes lit up. “Gut. I like this design. Hopefully it sells well.” “Ja, hopefully,” she echoed, forcing a smile to her face before turning to head for her own workbench. Once there, Ruth selected a piece of oak from the neat stack on the scarred wooden surface and picked up a sanding block. She’d hoped for a number of things. She’d even had the hochmut to pray that someone in the district would purchase the business. The glasses slipped down
