“Like I said.” He gestured a hairy forearm toward the windshield. Even though it was getting close to winter, he wore short sleeves. “Depends on the buggies. You know, most people come to Amish country to relax.”
She adjusted her cream-colored cashmere scarf around her neck. “I’m not most people.”
The driver didn’t respond.
Wise man
.
“Coming!” Anna Byler wiped her floury hands on a kitchen dishrag. Who would be here mid-morning, especially on baking day? Fortunately she’d just set all eight balls of dough to rise. She had at least thirty minutes before she’d have to attend to them again.
Anna left the kitchen and hurried to the front of the house.
Another set of sharp, impatient knocks echoed through the house.
“Just a minute.” She pushed back a loose strand of hair as she opened the door. An unfamiliar woman stood on the porch, a steady curtain of rain her backdrop. What had started as mist this morning had now turned into a full downpour. Somehow the woman managed not to have a drop on her.
“Hello,” Anna said.
The woman held her umbrella away from her body and shook off the excess water. She didn’t look at Anna when she spoke. “I’m here to see Mr. Sawyer Thompson.” She leaned the umbrella against the side of the house. Without asking, Anna noted.
She stared at the Yankee woman. Anna had never seen anyone quite like her before. The collar around her coat had to be real fur. The woman’s hair was short and silver, almost white.
Long nails with white tips tapped on a gold watch. A cloud of floral perfume wafted from her in the damp air. “I hope you don’t plan to keep me standing here all day. Is Sawyer here or not?”
“Would you like to come in?” Anna opened the door wider.
“To get out of the rain?”
“Only if Sawyer is inside.” Her accent sounded strange too.
Anna wondered if she was from Ohio.
The woman sniffed and glanced around the porch. Her nose wrinkled, as if she smelled something foul. There was, of course, the usual scent of livestock in the air, heightened as it always was during and after a rain. Everyone in Middlefield was used to it.
“I’m sorry,” Anna said. “Sawyer is at work. If you tell me your name, I’ll let him know—”
“Where is his place of employment?”
Anna’s brow rose, along with her guard. “What?”
“Where . . . does . . . he . . . work?” The woman’s gaze slid down her nose as she looked at Anna.
Anna crossed her arms. She didn’t appreciate being treated as if she were stupid. But she held her tongue and managed to remain polite. “He works with my husband. Like I said, I’d be happy to tell him you stopped by.”
“I don’t have time for this. You will tell me where he works. Now.”
“I’m sorry, Miss . . .” Anna waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, Anna stepped forward. Her bare feet hit the cold porch as the rain slowed. “I’m not telling you anything unless I know who you are.”
The woman fiddled with a light tan scarf tied around her neck. She stared down at Anna’s bare feet. Finally she looked up. “My name is Easley,” she said. “Cora Easley.”
“How do you know Sawyer?”
Cora lifted her chin, her look both confident and chilling.
“I am his grandmother.”
“Grandmother?”
“That’s what I said.”
“But Sawyer doesn’t have any other family.”
“Obviously you’re misinformed.” The woman lifted an eyebrow. “Now, will you tell me his place of employment?”
“I—” Anna hesitated, trying to comprehend what she’d heard. Sawyer had family? Why hadn’t they known this before?
If this woman was telling the truth, if she really was Sawyer’s grandmother, why was she showing up now? Anna couldn’t just send her to the shop, not like this. “I think it would be best if you talked to him after work.”
You
think it would be best.” Cora sniffed.“Who are you to “make that decision?”
“His mother.”
The woman lifted her chin and arched one eyebrow.
“
Adoptive
mother. My daughter, Kerry, was his true mother.”
Anna fought to remain calm. “Sawyer works with his
father
at our carpentry shop. It’s the Christmas season, and—”
Cora’s gaze narrowed. “Is this an attempt to put me off?
Because I assure you, no one will stand between me and my grandson.”
“Nee.”
Anna’s panic rose. “I wouldn’t do that. He’ll be surprised to see you, that’s all. I think it would be better for both of you to have some time to talk. Since it’s the Christmas season, they’re very busy at work right now.”
“A carpentry shop.” Cora frowned and shook her head.
Then she looked at Anna. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any better.” She picked up her umbrella and returned to the car.
“Where are you going?” Anna asked.
Cora didn’t answer. The engine was still running, the driver sitting in the front seat, reading a magazine.
Water dripped from the porch eave, splashing against Anna’s dress. She barely noticed. Her son’s only blood relative stood a few feet away. Clothed in fancy furs and expensive jewelry and possessing the disposition of a woman used to getting what she wanted. What would Sawyer do when he found out?
Anna rushed to the car, ignoring her bare feet and the pelting rain. “You’re leaving?”
Cora Easley peered down her narrow nose. “If you won’t tell me where my grandson is, I’ll visit every carpentry shop in this pathetic town until I find him.”
Anna looked at Cora. How could this woman be Sawyer’s grandmother? Sawyer was kind, easygoing, compassionate— everything she wasn’t. Besides that, where had she been when Sawyer was abandoned? When he had
no one
? She couldn’t just stroll into their lives now and start making demands.
Anna crossed her arms over her chest and bit back the words, for her son’s sake. “Sawyer is an adult. He takes care of himself now.”
“So you’re saying he doesn’t live here?”
“He does, by his own choosing. But his life is his own.”
Cora looked at the driver. “That’s because he doesn’t know he has other options.”
“How could he, when he has no idea you even exist?” Anna bit her bottom lip. The words had flown out of her mouth. She should have held her tongue.
The woman’s eyes blazed. “Let’s go,” she said to the driver, her teeth clenched. She shot Anna a scathing look. “I will deal solely with my grandson from this point forward.”
“Nee!”
Anna touched her arm.
Cora jerked from her grasp. “Excuse me?”
Anna reined in her anger. She couldn’t let it get the best of her. Not unless she wanted to alienate this woman, and possibly Sawyer.
“I’ll take you to see him.”
“I thought you said he was busy.”
“He is, but—” Anna took in a shuddering breath. The last thing she wanted to do was take this woman to meet Sawyer, yet she didn’t see any other choice. Cora was determined to find him. Besides, if they went to the workshop together, Lukas would be there. Anna needed her husband by her side. “It’s not too far away.”
“Finally, you’re being reasonable.” Cora looked around the driveway, searching over Anna’s shoulder at the barn behind her. “Where is your car?”
Anna heard the taxi driver snicker. She shot him a quieting glance. He wasn’t helping matters. “I don’t have a car. It won’t take me but a second to hitch up the buggy.”
“Buggy?” Cora’s voice faltered a bit.
“Looks like you don’t need me anymore.” The taxi driver opened the trunk and deposited three huge suitcases on the gravel driveway.
Cora’s thin brows lifted almost to her hairline. “What are you doing? Be careful with that—it’s all very expensive.”
“You heard the lady,” he said. “She’ll take you where you need to go.”
“But you can’t leave. I still need to find suitable lodging for tonight.”
The cab driver shut the trunk. “I think you’ll find the hospitality here just fine.” He got inside the car and backed out of the driveway.
“I never should have paid him in advance,” Cora muttered.
Anna stared at the luggage, fine-grained tan leather with gold monograms on the outside. “I’ll take those in the
haus
. They’ll dry out there. Then I’ll get my shoes and hitch up the buggy. You can come inside and wait in the living room.”
Cora stared at the cab as it disappeared in the distance. “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?”
She looked down at her baggage, now splotched with rain and splattered with mud. “No wonder no one wants to visit Cleveland,” she huffed. “These people have no idea how to treat guests.”
During Laura’s second day on the job, she learned more about the Bylers’ business. In early November they geared up for the Christmas season. Sawyer was in charge of finishing the simple toys the shop sold as seasonal gifts, sanding them smooth, applying several coats of varnish, and in the case of small rocking horses, painting the eyes, bridles, reins, and saddles. She could see he had a talent for the job. His skill impressed her. She couldn’t draw a stick figure, much less have the patience to do such detailed work.
She also dealt with her first customer, an English woman— or Yankee, as the Amish here called them—who had just ordered a small wooden sled for her grandson. Laura tried to steady her nerves as she wrote down the information, wincing as she saw her crooked handwriting and hoping the woman didn’t notice.
“Your receipt.” Laura handed her the slip of paper and waited. For the stare. The disgust. At the very least, pity.
“Thank you.” The older woman put the receipt in her purse. She smelled like flowery perfume and mothballs. As she adjusted the bright red felt hat covering her salt-and-pepper hair, she smiled. “I always enjoy doing business with you folks.
I admire your lifestyle so much.”
Laura smiled, surprised. “Thank you. We appreciate your order.”
“You’re most welcome. I must be going. More shopping to do. I like to have all the grandchildren’s gifts bought and wrapped by the first of December. My youngest grandson will just love that sled.” The woman waved as she walked out the door. “You have a nice day.”
“Same to you,” Laura called out. She leaned against the small counter at the front of the shop. The woman hadn’t blinked at Laura’s scars. Was she blind? Laura shook her head, wishing her negative thoughts hadn’t intruded. Why couldn’t she appreciate the few nice moments she had?
“Another rocking horse?” Sawyer came up behind her.
“A sled.”
“Ah. We haven’t made too many of those. I’ll let Tobias know.” He moved, then paused. “How’s it going?”
Laura nodded. “Fine.” Surprisingly fine. The tension in her shoulders eased.
“Good.”
Danki
for the ride this morning.” “
“You already thanked me. But I don’t mind hearing it again.” He grinned.
Her equilibrium faltered under the warmth of his smile.