How Secrets Die (28 page)

Sarah nodded. “I spotted it on my way in to work this morning.” She had a feeling she'd get tired of saying those words.

Donna glanced back over her shoulder toward the archway into the living room. “I'm sure she'll be glad to see you, but maybe later would be better. I don't want her upset any further.”

Donna's air of authority was mildly annoying. Still, Sarah supposed she meant it for the best. “Well, just let her know I stopped by, and—”

“Donna? Who are you talking to? Why don't they come in? You can't expect me to get up and fight with this walker every time the doorbell rings.” The voice came from the living room in a subdued bellow.

Sarah grinned. That sounded much more like Julia. “It's Sarah Bitler,” she called.

“Well, come in. Why are you standing on the doorstep?”

Donna shrugged, rolling her eyes as she stepped back. “Try not to let her get upset,” she muttered. “I thought I'd never get her settled down after that policeman left.”

Nodding, Sarah went past her into the comfortable living room. Julia, unlike most of Laurel Ridge's wealthier residents, didn't live in one of the town's classic Victorian houses. After her husband's death she'd sold the place she'd always referred to as a mausoleum, and bought this small, convenient one-story rancher.

The living room was designed for comfort, rather than fashion, with a pair of recliners on either side of a fireplace, a welcoming love seat and built-in bookshelves that were filled primarily with bright paperbacks. A large-screen television sat at an angle to face one of the recliners, and as Sarah entered, Julia reached out to mute the game show she was watching.

“What's going on? Don't tell me Donna is trying to protect me again. I thought she knew better.” Julia's round, wrinkled face was bright-eyed and sometimes a little malicious. Just now she darted an annoyed look toward the hallway.

Donna, shoulders stiff, obviously heard the words, as she was meant to. She marched toward the kitchen.

“You shouldn't tease her,” Sarah said, avoiding the heavy cast on Julia's leg as she bent to hug her. “She's trying to take care of you.”

“I hate to be taken care of.” The older woman's tone was so sharp, Sarah knew helplessness was the real cause of her annoyance.

“Give your leg time to heal. You'll soon be able to handle things yourself.”

She hoped that was true, anyway. At Julia's age, a badly broken leg could mean the end of independent living, and as far as Sarah knew, Donna was the only relative Julia had. In a typical Amish family, there'd be plenty of people to tend an elderly relative and it was taken for granted, but not so among the Englisch.

“Never mind telling me soothing things,” Julia barked. “Sit down here and talk. I heard you're the one who spotted the fire.”

Sarah nodded, pulling over a straight chair to sit on. Julia's short gray hair was ruffled, as if she'd been running her hands through it, and she glared at the cast as if it offended her. Obviously the only thing to do was to tell her the story.

“I saw the smoke when I was coming into town this morning. I supposed it might have been Gus burning trash, but as soon as I came around the bend, I saw the flames at the back corner of the barn.”

Julia's jaw was clenched. “Mac Whiting said the barn was a total loss.”

“I'm afraid so.” Guilt pricked Sarah. “Maybe if I'd gone straight for a phone when I saw the smoke, the fire company would have been able to save it, but—”

“Nonsense.” The word was sharp, and Julia gripped her hand for a moment. “Mac said you went looking for Gus first. Naturally.” Her gaze searched Sarah's face. “He says they're satisfied Gus wasn't caught in the blaze.”

“That's certain sure,” she said quickly. “I looked, and the others did, as well. He wasn't there.”

“I suppose he's staying out of sight, afraid I'll blame him.” Julia snorted, her fears allayed. “Silly old fool.”

Since Julia was probably a good twenty years older than her handyman, or whatever Gus claimed to be, the description didn't seem to fit very well. And Sarah had never thought of Gus as silly. He managed to eke out a living doing nothing much at all, and he had a weakness for drink, but he had a certain amount of shrewdness, as well.

“I know what you're thinking,” Julia said unexpectedly. “You wonder why I bother with the lazy layabout.”

Since that was just about what she'd been thinking, Sarah couldn't deny it. “It's not my business.”

“Oh, he doesn't fool me any.” Julia's eyes crinkled, increasing her resemblance to a mischievous monkey. “I know what he is. But my husband was never happier than when he was pottering around that piece of property, hunting and fishing with Gus. I'm not sentimental, but I just can't bring myself to get rid of the place, no matter how many offers I get.”

“Have people been wanting to buy?” That surprised Sarah. She wouldn't have thought the property was that much in demand. It had been a farm once, but the fields were overgrown now.

“Had a call not long ago, but I wasn't interested in selling the place.” Julia brooded for a moment. “I suppose it'll be worth less now that the barn is gone. Maybe I ought to get rid of it before anything else happens.” Her hands worked on the chair arms, as if she'd like to propel herself right out of it.

Concerned at her agitation, Sarah clasped her hand. “You don't need to decide anything right away. And I'm sure Gus will turn up soon.”

Julia nodded, but she still looked upset. Hadn't Sarah agreed with Donna that she wouldn't upset her? She sought for some subject that would divert Julia's thoughts from a decision she clearly didn't want to make.

“By the way, did you hear about the quilt display we're putting together for the shop? It's Allison's idea. We're setting up a showing of some antique quilts. Allison thinks it will draw in customers from out of town.”

Julia grunted something that sounded like agreement. “Probably will. Your partner's got a good head on her shoulders when it comes to business. But she'll never know as much about quilts as you do,” she added, as if Sarah might be jealous.

“Ach, I was born knowing about quilting, I think, given the way my mamm and grossmammi love it. And with Allison being so smart about things like the internet shopping, we make a fine team, ain't so?”

“I guess you do,” Julia said. “Good thing, too. A woman's got to be able to take care of herself in today's world. Even an Amish woman.”

“Especially a single one,” she said firmly. There was no point in pretending it didn't make a difference whether a woman was married or not. It did in a community like the Amish that was centered on family.

Julia's gaze seemed to search Sarah's face for a moment. She gave a short nod, as if satisfied with what she read there. “You know, I might have a few quilts to go in your display. Come to think of it, it's about time I got them out and did something with them. Donna!” She shouted the name loudly, and Sarah jumped.

Donna appeared in the doorway so quickly that Sarah wondered if she'd stayed within earshot. “What is it?”

“You remember those family quilts I showed you a few years ago? I'm going to lend them to Sarah for a display. Box them up for her, will you?”

“Box them up?” Donna's voice rose. “That was ages ago. I have no idea where those quilts are. I thought you got rid of them years ago.”

“Of course I didn't.” Julia sounded testy, and her eyes were dulled, as if she was tiring. “They're in one of those trunks in the attic. I can find them easily.”

“You can't go climbing those attic steps with your leg in a cast. You shouldn't do it anyway, not at your age.”

It was inevitable that Julia would flare up at that. “My age has nothing to do with it. I'm twice as active as you are, except for this stupid cast.”

“You don't need to...” Sarah began, but neither of them listened to her.

“I won't hunt through a bunch of old trunks for something that isn't there,” Donna declared. “Sarah doesn't want them, anyway.”

Sarah opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to think of anything that would resolve the sudden hostilities. As far as she could tell, this was what always happened when Donna got one of her periodic urges to take care of her elderly relative. They couldn't tolerate each other for long. The truth was that they were both stubborn and opinionated, and that inevitably led to a clash whenever they'd been together for a time.

“Sarah will find them for me. Won't you, Sarah?” Julia sent a triumphant look at her cousin and patted Sarah's hand.

“Ja, yes, of course,” she said. “But not today,” she added firmly. “I must get to the shop. I'll come another time and find them for you. We don't need them right away, in any event.”

She rose quickly, before she could get more involved than she already was. “I'll see you soon.”

“All right, all right.” It was said in a grumbling tone, but Julia sank back in the chair, closing her eyes briefly. Donna, with a speaking glance at her, accompanied Sarah to the door and opened it.

“Thanks for putting her off,” she murmured with a glance back toward the living room. “I shouldn't have argued with her, but really, she gets to me. After all, here I am giving up my time to help her, and does she appreciate it? No.”

“I'm sure she does, really.” Sarah stepped outside, the heat of the July day hitting her.

“Well, I'm the only family she has, so I guess it's my duty.” Donna assumed the air of a martyr. “Don't worry about those old quilts, now. She's so forgetful lately she probably won't even remember talking to you about them.”

Forgetful? That assessment didn't match with Sarah's impression of Julia, but she certain sure wasn't getting into a discussion of Julia's mental state with Donna. Instead she gave the woman a quick smile and hurried to her buggy, relieved to get away.

* * *

A
FTER
SETTLING
THE
mare in the small stable behind Blackburn House, where her shop was located, Sarah rounded the massive Italianate Victorian mansion to the front door. She always found it hard to imagine that the building had once been a private home. Who could possibly need such an imposing residence? Amish families, even those with eight or ten children, were content with simple farmhouses.

Well, Blackburn House had long since been turned into shops and offices, and she was fortunate to have her quilt store in what had once been a fashionable parlor. Doubly fortunate, because her business partner was Allison Standish, the owner of the building.

Once she was inside the double front doors with their elaborate fanlight, Sarah could glance up at the marble hallway that stretched practically the depth of the building. The quilt shop was on the right, with a small workroom behind it, while to the left was the showroom for Whiting and Whiting Cabinetry, with its office. Toward the back, the bookstore and storage rooms took up the rest of the downstairs space. The cabinetry showroom appeared to be empty at the moment, which probably meant Nick Whiting was in the workshop behind the building.

The bell over the door jingled as Sarah walked into her shop, and Allison slid a bolt of fabric into place and hurried toward her. “Here you are at last. Nick said you probably inhaled some smoke when you were trying to find Gus Hill. We were worried about you.”

Nick, besides being a partner with his father in the cabinetry shop, was the brother of the police chief, to say nothing of being a very special person in Allison's eyes. Most of the community expected to hear momentarily that they were engaged.

“Nick worries too much, if he said that. I'm fine. I stopped over to see Julia Everly. Did Nick tell you the fire was on property she owns?”

Allison nodded, her dark red hair swinging against her cheeks. “Is Julia all right? I haven't seen her in a few days.”

Julia had been a close friend of Allison's grandmother, and Allison seemed to feel a special bond with the older woman on that account.

“I think so. Worried about whether or not she should sell the property, but I managed to distract her.” Sarah's thoughts flickered to Julia's quilts, which might or might not be suitable for display.

“Everybody's worried about the fire, as far as I can tell.” Allison glanced at the two customers who were browsing through the racks of fabric in the back of the store, and lowered her voice. “I didn't quite see what Nick and his dad were so upset about. Apparently the barn was empty.”

“That's just it.” Probably Allison, having spent all her life in the city until she'd come to Laurel Ridge in the spring, had little idea how country people felt about barn burnings. “There was nothing in that barn that could have started an accidental fire.”

“You mean they think it was deliberate?” Allison shivered a little. “That's frightening.” She had had a close encounter with a fire herself not so long ago. She wouldn't have forgotten.

Sarah nodded. “There's nothing worse in a farming community than the idea that there's a firebug loose. It happened once when I was a child, and I remember it so well—Daad staying up at night, keeping watch, never knowing what might happen, afraid to leave the animals in the barn.” It chilled her just to think of it.

“Still, there's no reason to believe this is more than an isolated incident.”

Allison was obviously trying to look on the bright side, and she was probably right. They might well discover some innocent reason for the fire.

Sarah began to speak, but the words froze in her throat. From the firehouse down the street came an ominous sound as the siren began to wail its alarm. There was another fire.

Copyright © 2015 by Martha P. Johnson