Page 73 of A Gathering of Secrets

We shake over the counter. “You’ve done a nice job with the place.”

“Always loved the idea of taking something old and forgotten, like this barn, and making something new out of it.”

“I understand you’re going to open a restaurant in the old round barn in the back.”

She chuckles. “Well, it’s a work in progress. Place is older than the hills and there are some structural issues according to our construction man. But God is smiling down on us. With Him leading the way, it’ll get done.”

Her eyes sharpen on mine. “What do you need to speak with my daughter about?”

“I know Emma Miller used to work here. I understand she knew Daniel Gingerich.” I shrug, trying to keep my answers vague. “I’m hoping Neva might be able to answer some questions or at least offer some insights on their relationship.”

“Well, the Amish are a tight-knit bunch. Everyone knows just about everyone else. Let me call her up here for you.”

She picks up the phone and presses a button. “Neva, come to the front please,” she says over the intercom system. “Would you like a gift box with that, Kate Burkholder?”

“I would. Thank you.”

The sound of female chatter draws my attention. I turn to see Ina Yoder and Viola Stutzman coming down an aisle. They’re deep in conversation, dresses swishing around their legs, arms loaded with what looks like this evening’s projects. Ina is carrying a canvas bag with two rolls of fabric sticking out the top. Viola totes a wicker sewing kit in one hand, a bundle of what looks like crafting grapevine in the other.

“Hi, girls,” I say.

Viola’s stride falters. “Oh, hi, Chief Burkholder.”

“Looks like you found another birthday gift for your sister.” Ina’s eyes flick to the bag in my hand. “Did you pick the bergamot and sweet rosemary?”

“I did.” I look past her to see Neva Lambright striding toward us from the rear of the store. She looks harried, holding a large corrugated box in her arms, but there’s a bounce in her step. She’s wearing a lavender print dress and has a brown paper shopping bag sporting The Mercantile logo slung over her shoulder.

“You girls look as if you’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of you,” I say.

“Always,” Ina says.

“But we love it,” Viola adds.

“Speak for yourself.” Neva is still smiling when she crosses to Viola and hands her the shopping bag. “You forgot your yarn.”

Viola takes the bag, peeks inside. “You’re determined to keep me working, even when I’m off, aren’t you?”

“I think she forgot it on purpose,” Ina teases.

I watch the exchange, and I can’t help but remember a time in my own life when everything was about friendship and fun and a future I couldn’t wait to explore.

“I need a few minutes of your time,” I tell them. “Is there a place where we can sit and chat?”

“We could sit at the café,” Viola offers.

“Someplace private?” I say.

Edna Lambright looks up from the quarters she’s counting. “You can use the break room in the back. Just leave it the way you found it.”

“In the meantime.” I pull out the photo of the woman who left the note on the police station door and set it on the counter. “Do any of you recognize her?”

Edna slides glasses onto her nose and looks down at the photo. Simultaneously, the three girls set their bags on the floor and gather around the counter.

“She’s Amish,” Edna says.

“Not a Beachy dress,” Neva adds.

“Looks like gray fabric,” Viola says to no one in particular.