Accidentally Amish (12 page)

Annie had asked questions about his practice and experience the day before on the phone. Now she probed further. She had to be as sure as possible that Lee Solano was outside Rick’s sphere of influence, and she had to feel confident he understood what was at stake in an intellectual property matter—now a lawsuit. When she was as satisfied as she could be under the circumstances, Annie blew out her breath and began her story. Lee Solano dutifully took notes with a cheap pen on a classic yellow legal pad. Just as she finished, a new e-mail dinged in. Jamie had sent the attachment.

Annie opened it and turned her screen toward Lee. “Can they do this?”

Lee squinted as he scrolled through the document.

“What does he want?” Annie asked.

“Everything,” Lee answered quickly. “You must have some serious work going on. This Barrett fellow claims his creative contribution was the impetus leading to the work, and that without it the work would not exist. On that basis, he wants your name separated from the work, leaving him free to pursue legal agreements involving the work without requiring your permission.”

“I don’t understand. We’re partners. We run a company together.”

“He’s making the claim that this particular work does not fall within the boundaries established by your partnership. I would have to see your partnership incorporation documents to comment on that.”

“But that’s ridiculous.” Annie took a gulp of coffee. “Barrett and I have worked together for years. We have different strengths, but we share the profit equally.”

Lee shrugged. “Existing intellectual property laws were developed decades ago without any glimmer of application to software. Intellectual property used to be about words and music and art. Entries like software take some thrashing out in the courts. I’m afraid we’re a long way from having clear application of the law under either copyright or patents.”

“Where does that leave me?” Annie swallowed hard.

“We’ll start with a countersuit,” Lee said, “and I’ll bury Mr. Stebbins in paperwork. But our best bet is to find some way to keep this from going to court. Don’t worry, Miss Friesen. You’ve got someone on your side now.”

Rufus spent the morning making sure the custom cabinets installed throughout the house under construction were exactly as ordered and that no damage had occurred to the black oak panels. A flooring company from Walsenburg was in the midst of installing carpets and hardwoods. It would not be long now before the family could move in.

Rufus collected his tools and laid them carefully in the back of the buggy. The two teenagers who worked for him were gone for the day. Rufus had a few fix-it jobs around town, and the Amish families in the valley always seemed to require a carpenter, but he needed another big job. Under his father’s skill and Joel’s help, the farm was doing as well as could be expected in the arid Colorado climate but not turning much of a profit. Coaxing growth from seeds in the ground seemed to require a different set of farming habits than in Pennsylvania. The dry air and soil left a lot for the Beilers to learn about farming in the West, rather than in the long-tested soil of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Land might be cheaper in Colorado, but it was also more stubborn.

He was not unhappy with his business prospects, but lately they had grown thinner, making Rufus wonder what Karl Kramer was telling people about him. The Amish community was still small. Rufus needed jobs from the
English
to build a profitable business.

Rufus swung up onto the bench, picked up the reins, and directed Dolly into town. For a few minutes, he sat in the buggy in front of the coffee shop. He had heard of people who spent hours in coffee shops and could well imagine Annalise as one of them. After securing Dolly to a signpost cemented into the sidewalk, he reached under the seat for an item then pulled open the shop door.

She looked up almost immediately. And smiled.

Rufus pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. In his hand was his cell phone and the power cord. Behind a sober face, he gave in to amusement at her wide eyes.

“You’re using a phone
and
electricity?”

“I promised to tell you our views on electricity.”

“By using it in a public place?”

“Electricity is a useful form of power. We recognize that. We simply do not want electricity to become the focus of our lives by bringing it into our homes. That is the place of our families.”

“And the phone?”

“Our district has a generous position on phones because we are so widely scattered. We are permitted to use phones for business and safety.”

“But not convenience?”

“Convenience is for the individual. For us, the community comes first. If electricity or a phone carries us away from community, it also carries us away from God.”

“I never thought of it like that.” Annalise fidgeted with a pen on the table.

“You can ask any questions you wish.”

“Thank you. Maybe when I don’t have so much on my mind …”

“Of course. How did your business meeting go?”

She laid her head to one side, and her loose hair danced in the light as it fell away from her face. If he never married, he would never see a woman’s hair fall away from her ear in just that way and be able to reach out and catch it.

“It went well,” she said. “We have a plan of action.” As if she could read his thoughts—for the second time that day—she smoothed her hair close to her head and tucked it behind her ear.

“And will this plan of action carry you home—to your own community?”

She pressed her lips together. “I hope so.”

Annalise did not quite meet his eyes this time. “I promised Mo I would stop by the motel,” he said, “but I can enjoy a cup of
kaffi
first.”

They did not leave the coffee shop for another hour. When they reached the motel, Rufus helped Annalise down once again. Her pale complexion told him she was more tired than she would admit.

The door of the motel lobby swung open, and Mo emerged. “Well, if it isn’t our star guest. How are you?”

Annalise managed a smile, Rufus was glad to see.

“How is your mother?” Annalise asked.

“Cranky as ever, but the crisis is averted for now.” Mo turned to Rufus. “Just the man I want to see. I’ve had a vision of remodeling the lobby, and you’re just the person for the job.”

In the lobby, Annalise stood to one side and held her computer to her chest, glancing at him from time to time as Mo gestured and explained. Rufus hardly heard a word Mo said about the work.

“Do it!” Jacob urged.

Annalise grimaced. Rufus spread hay.

“
Die Kuh
,” the little boy said, “and it’s a very nice cow.” He leaned his head into the side of the cow, next to where Sophie sat on a three-legged stool.

“Her face is pretty,” Annalise said. Both of the animal’s pink ears stood up straight. Between her eyes a white stripe divided a mass of brown.

“Touch her nose,” Jacob said. “She likes that.”

“Jacob,” Rufus said softly, “if Annalise does not want to touch the cow, she does not have to.” It was, after all, a texture bearing no resemblance to her sleek laptop keys.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Annalise said. “It’s just not as simple as it sounds.”

“I must start milking soon,” Sophie said. “Please don’t startle her.”

Annalise’s hand moved, slowly, toward the white stripe. When the cow moaned, she flinched but immediately resumed her purpose.

Rufus smiled and tossed a pitchfork of hay into Dolly’s stall, glad to see Annalise’s determined spirit on display in a cow stall as well as a coffee shop.

Two slender fingers made contact in the space between the cow’s eyes and nose, and a moment later, a full hand began a soothing stroking motion.

“It feels harder than I thought it would,” Annalise said.

His sisters were giggling, and Annalise’s laugh blended with the sound.

She relaxed. He saw it. Rufus leaned on his pitchfork and savored this image of Annalise Friesen in his barn with members of his family. Even the denim bag slid off her shoulder and nested in the hay as she now rubbed the sides of the cow’s face with both hands.

A
nnie wrestled dreams that night and woke more than once hoping for daylight to creep through the curtains in Ruth’s bedroom. Finally, she sat up and turned on the propane bedside lamp. She was beginning to miss the pillow-topped mattress in her condo, surrounded by familiar possessions.

She had spotted three thrift stores in Westcliffe—which she found curious given the insignificant size of the town—so she had some options to find more clothing. It looked as if she would be here another few days while Lee Solano conjured whatever kind of magic he had in his power. For now, his instructions were for Annie to lie low and not show any response to Rick’s legal maneuvers. Returning to Mo’s motel would at least put electricity on her side. She was taking a break, she told herself, a short break that would save her business.

She threw back the quilt and stepped to the desk four feet away to power up her laptop. For now she ignored her e-mail, but she could not resist checking her secure server. It looked as if Barrett had been knocking around the edges of the project but had not gotten through the barricades she had in place.

Annie smiled. All this time and he wasn’t making a dent. She touched a hand to her neck to finger the gold chain—and felt nothing but skin.

Panicked, Annie opened every drawer in the room and unfolded her paltry wardrobe. She dumped her denim bag onto the bed and separated the contents for inspection. Not finding the gold chain, she bolted to the bathroom across the hall, trying to remember everything she had touched in the last few days. Annie could not even remember the last time she had been sure the chain was around her neck.

She sank into the bed to wait for first light.

Rufus moved the envelope aside as he had done dozens of times already and rummaged for a pencil in his toolbox. The letter had arrived five days ago. Rufus was not sure he wanted to know what it said. Ruth repeatedly wrote to him in care of Tom and Tricia, so he could only conclude she did not want their parents to know of the letters.

What happened was between Ruth and
Daed
and
Mamm.
Rufus did not want to find himself in the middle. And he did not think it was a good idea to involve Tom and Tricia even just to deliver a letter that arrived at their home.

Ruth had taken almost nothing with her that day. Rufus was never sure if it was because she did not truly intend to go or because she did not want to be beholden to anyone, not even for a change of clothes.

Rufus missed her. Ruth was the sister nearest to him in age, though two married brothers filled the span between them. When he raised the question of moving to Colorado, Ruth was the first to say she wanted to go. His married brothers thought Rufus ought to at least find a wife before heading out for a new settlement. When his parents decided they were in favor of the move because it could mean land for their younger sons, Rufus’s determination set in.

In Colorado, the chances of finding a wife among the Amish—the only wife Rufus could accept—were far from encouraging. He was already twenty-eight and was still required to keep his face clean shaven and sit in church with the younger unmarried men. If it was God’s will for Rufus to be alone, so be it. He would still work hard for the sake of his family.