Charlotte entered the kitchen the morning after the frolic and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Something smells wunderbarr. What are you making?”
After a sleepless night, Helen had been up mixing, kneading and watching her dough rise for over three hours already, and it was barely seven o’clock. “I’m making chocolate almond crescent rolls.”
Because she was unsure if the oven temperature was accurate on her aunt’s ancient propane model, she had put only four rolls on her baking sheet to test them first. They were done to a beautiful golden brown. She slid them onto a plate on the table and set the pan aside to cool while she rolled up another dozen. Now if only her decision to see Mark Bowman later today would turn out half so well. She wiped her damp brow with the back of her arm and then rolled up her sleeves.
“May I have one of these?” Charlotte took two from the plate on the kitchen table without waiting for Helen to answer her.
“Help yourself. I’m taking them with me when I go to ask for a job today. I hope Mark Bowman likes them, and I hope he doesn’t end up wearing them.”
It had occurred to her a little before 3:00 a.m. that it was highly unlikely that today could turn out worse than yesterday, but at least she wouldn’t have Clyde or Juliet to hinder her. She planned to go alone to the Bowman workshop.
If Mark would see her, and if she made a sincere effort to apologize, and if she could convince him that she desperately needed a job, he might offer her employment. And if he liked her chocolate almond pastry as much as he had seemed to like her ham and cheese rolls yesterday, she wasn’t above using them as a sweetener. It was a lot of ifs, but what choice did she have?
“Why would Mark Bowman want to wear your baked goods?”
Helen drew a deep breath and smiled fondly at her aunt. “I have no idea, but I desperately hope he will offer me a job. He should. I’ve had experience working in the fabric shop in Nappanee. I worked in a hardware store for a summer, but I didn’t care for the man who ran it. He was creepy. I’m conscientious. I’m hardworking. I’m a quick learner. I would be an asset to any business, even one run by a rude, judgmental and annoying fellow like Mark Bowman.”
“I don’t think he’s annoying. Did you let Clyde out this morning?” Charlotte stood in the middle of the kitchen turning in slow circles. She bent down to look under the table then moved the trash can to look behind it as if the dog might have become paper thin overnight.
“I did not.”
“He isn’t in the house. I’ve looked everywhere, and Juliet is missing, too.” Charlotte opened the door to the cellar and called down the steps, “Clyde, come here, boy.”
Helen placed her batch of rolls in the oven, wound the kitchen timer and set it beside the stove. “I’ll go outside and look for them in a few minutes. I’m sure they are playing in the yard. You mentioned that Juliet can open a door when she wants to. Was the back door open?”
“I believe it was. I’ll look, you finish what you’re doing.” Charlotte went to the back of the house. She returned a few minutes later. “They aren’t outside. I called and called. Clyde never misses a meal, and neither does Juliet. Something is wrong.”
“I’m sure they are fine.” Helen realized she hadn’t heard or seen the dog and raccoon all morning. That was unusual.
Charlotte’s eyes widened. She pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Someone has stolen them.”
Helen caught herself before she laughed aloud. She struggled to speak in a reasonable tone. “Aenti, calm yourself. Who would want to steal your pets?”
“I’ve read that the Englisch people make hats out of raccoons, and Clyde is a very valuable animal. Why, the bishop’s wife remarked on his amazingly long ears just yesterday. Oh, the nerve of that woman to take him from my house. Well, she can’t have him. I’m going right over there and tell her so.”
Helen caught her aunt by the arm as she marched toward the kitchen door. “Nee, you are not going to accuse the bishop’s wife of dognapping. She said his ears were foolishly long for such a squat-bodied hund. I was standing right beside you when she said it.”
“I heard her say his ears were luxuriously long, and she deeply admired such a dog.”
Clearly her aunt heard only what she wanted to hear when people were talking about her pets. “Even if she admired him, she wouldn’t steal him.”
“You don’t know that woman. Her family is from Nappanee.”
“So is your family.”
“Exactly!”
Helen caught the sound of distant barking. “I think I hear him.”
“You do?” Charlotte rushed to the door and pulled it open. “Clyde! Where are you?”
Helen moved to stand beside her aunt. Dawn was turning the eastern sky a pale gold color beyond the tree-covered ridge to the east. “I’m sure it was him.”
The barking started again, closer now. Charlotte pressed her hands to her chest. “I hear him, too. It is Clyde. Come here, baby boy.”
She rushed outside just as a horse and buggy turned off the main road and rolled up her lane. The barking, louder and more frantic now, was coming from the buggy. Helen stepped out onto the porch but almost turned and scurried back into the house when she saw Mark Bowman was driving. What was he doing here? The barking was definitely coming from his buggy. Why did he have Clyde with him?
Mark started to step down, but her aunt planted herself in front of him with one hand on her hip as she shook a finger in his face. “How dare you! I never would have suspected a Bowman of such dastardly behavior.”
“What?” He looked utterly confused. Helen knew exactly how he felt.
Charlotte folded her arms over her ample chest. “Stealing is a sin and beneath you, Mark Bowman, but I forgive you, since you have returned him.”
Mark looked at Helen. “What is she talking about?”
“She thinks that you stole Clyde.”
His puzzled expression snapped into a fierce scowl. “I did no such thing. Your miserable mutt began howling outside my window at three o’clock this morning. I couldn’t make him leave. He woke the entire household. I almost returned him then, but I decided to wait until a reasonable hour.”
Charlotte already had the rear buggy door open. Clyde was smothering her with doggy kisses as he struggled against the makeshift leash preventing him from jumping out. “Untie him at once, and I won’t mention your deplorable behavior to Bishop Beachy.”
“I didn’t steal your dog!”
Helen patted his shoulder. “I think I can help. Aenti, listen carefully. Mr. Bowman didn’t take Clyde. Your poor dog became lost in the woods last night. Mr. Bowman found him and took time out of his busy morning to bring your precious pet home because he knows how much you love Clyde. Mark is a mighty goot fellow.”
Charlotte eyed him suspiciously for a long moment and then looked at Helen. Her eyes brightened. “He’s a hero just like in the book I’m reading. He rescued poor Clyde from a terrible fate. Bless you, my boy.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mark muttered under his breath. He untied the rope holding Clyde in the buggy.
The overweight hound tumbled out the door and immediately jumped up on Charlotte. She toppled to her backside and hugged him close as he climbed into her lap. “My poor fellow. You are safe at home. Danki, Mark. Do come in and join us for breakfast.”
“I can’t. I must get home.” Mark helped Charlotte to her feet.
“Nonsense. I insist. I must reward your efforts on behalf of poor Clyde. My niece makes the most delicious rolls. Where is Juliet?” She rose on tiptoe to try and see the top of his buggy.
“Who is Juliet?” Mark asked, looking to Helen for an explanation.
“Her raccoon.”
Charlotte bent to pet her hound. “Juliet is Clyde’s dearest friend. They go everywhere together.”
“She’ll be along shortly,” Helen said to appease her aunt.
“Oh, goot.” She shook a finger at Clyde. “You were a naughty dog to wander off.”
Helen leaned toward Mark and whispered, “You haven’t seen her, have you?”
He shook his head and leaned closer. “Nee. Why are you whispering?”
She jerked her head toward her aunt, who was busy making a fuss over the squirming dog. “I don’t want to upset her. She’ll start worrying again that someone has made a hat out of her pet.”
“Why would she think— Nee, never mind. I’ve been told she’s a bit strange. I just didn’t realize how strange.”
“She’s odd, but she’s harmless.” Odd but oddly endearing, as Helen was learning. She’d never met anyone like her aunt. It was hard to imagine she was related to Helen’s stoic father.
“If you say she is harmless, I must believe you.” Mark started toward his buggy.
This wasn’t how Helen had visualized their meeting, but she wasn’t one to let an opportunity slip by. She would ply him with coffee and rolls, apologize and ask him about a job. “Do come inside. I wanted a chance to speak to you about—”
Mark cut her short as he pointed behind her. “I see smoke. Something’s burning.” He started toward the house.
“My rolls!” Helen dashed around him and up the steps and into the smoke-filled kitchen.
He followed her inside. “Where’s your fire extinguisher?”
“I don’t know where my aunt keeps it.”
“The best time to locate one is before a fire.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Helen grabbed her hot pads and jerked open the oven door. More smoke billowed into the room. She started coughing, but she managed to pull the pan of charred rolls out and head for the door. He opened the other kitchen window and then followed her outside, coughing and wheezing, too.
Helen plunked the pan on the porch railing and stared at the charred remains through watery eyes. Charlotte came up beside her. “I believe your last batch was better, dear. These look overdone. She’ll bring some better ones when she comes to see you later today, Mark.”
“See me about what?” he asked.
“Helen desperately wants you to give her a job. You should. She’s conscientious. She’s hardworking—”
Helen cut in quickly. “Aenti, he doesn’t need to hear this.”
“Of course he does. She’s a quick learner. She would be an asset to any business, even one run by a rude, judgmental and annoying fellow like you, but I still don’t understand why you want to wear her baked goods. That doesn’t seem right.”
Helen closed her eyes and bowed her head in defeat. She tossed the burned rolls on to the grass. “I was wrong. Today is worse than yesterday.” Her voice cracked, but she raised her chin and continued. “I’m so very sorry for your trouble, Mark. Thank you for bringing the dog home. He means a great deal to my aenti.”
She started into the house. Mark caught her by the arm. “Wait until the smoke clears.”
She looked down in surprise at the warmth of his hand on her bare forearm and then looked at his face. She hadn’t noticed much about him before except his scowl.
He wasn’t a bad-looking fellow. Not as handsome as Joseph, but he had a strong face with a broad forehead, high cheekbones and blond hair that wanted to curl from beneath his hatband. He had a dimple in his left cheek and a small scar in his right eyebrow. His intense green eyes, beneath thick eyelashes, gazed intently at her. They widened slightly, and his pupils darkened as she looked into them. A shiver skittered across her skin.
* * *
Mark noticed the smudge of flour on Helen’s cheek. The white powder stood in high contrast to the bright blush staining her face. Her gray eyes held specks of blue in their depths, and they glistened with unshed tears of humiliation. She blinked and looked away. Her shoulders slumped. He withdrew his hand and rubbed his tingling palm on the side of his pants. He took a step back. “Find where she keeps the fire extinguisher.”
“I will.” She sniffed once but didn’t look at him.
He took another step back and bumped into the porch railing. “I didn’t mean to be rude yesterday.”
After a long pause, she nodded slightly. “You had just cause.”
He should get going. He didn’t understand why he had this urge to linger, except that he didn’t want to see her cry. “My brother and my cousin say that I can be overbearing. If I was, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Why can’t a single thing go right? Everything used to be so easy.” She covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders started shaking.
He stepped closer. “Please don’t cry over a few burned rolls.”
She made a sound like a strangled sob and fled around the corner of the house, leaving him feeling foolish and brutish at the same time. Every time he tried to help, he seemed to make things worse. She managed to fluster him, and he didn’t like the feeling. He turned to her aunt. “Will she be okay?”
“Ja, we have plenty of flour.”
“Flour?” He didn’t follow her.
“To make more rolls for you so that you will give her a job.” Charlotte smiled sweetly.
“I don’t need a baker. I need an inventory clerk and a general office worker. Has she had any experience?”
Charlotte held her hands up and raised her eyes to the sky. “I shudder to tell you the experiences that child has had. I’m amazed at how well she is handling it.”
“Handling what? Never mind. I need to get going. Tell Helen to come by the shop tomorrow, and I will interview her for the job, but I can’t promise anything.” He didn’t want to know more about Helen, and he didn’t want to try and stay in a conversation with Charlotte Zook. It was an impossibility.
“All right. Do send Juliet home directly when you see her.”
“Juliet? Oh, the raccoon. Sure.” He nodded and made his escape.
As he turned his horse and buggy toward home, he glanced over his shoulder, but Helen remained out of sight. He felt a stab of pity for her. Living with Charlotte Zook couldn’t be easy. The woman was odd to say the least. He might pity Helen, but he wouldn’t hire her unless she was right for the job. So far, he hadn’t seen anything that suggested she would be.
It had been a mistake to tell the aunt he’d discuss a job with Helen. He’d spoken in a moment of weakness, and that wasn’t like him. Something about Helen left him feeling off-kilter.
Besides which, her assessment of his character continued to go downhill. He’d gone from being rude and judgmental to annoying, as well. He was confident Charlotte had been repeating what Helen had said about him.
He chuckled as he recalled the look of horror on Helen’s face when her aunt started listing her qualifications. She knew what was coming. It served her right for her less-than-charitable comments about him. A man looking for a humble, modest and mild-mannered wife wouldn’t find those qualities in Helen Zook.
Leaning back in the buggy seat, his smile faded as he imagined interviewing her. He’d already interviewed a half dozen people for the job, and none of them had been right. His brother said he was too picky, but his uncle’s business was important, and hiring the wrong person was worse than working shorthanded.
Mark glanced back at Charlotte’s house. Unless he was sadly mistaken, Helen wouldn’t be right for the position either, but he would do her the courtesy of giving her a chance. If she showed up. From the way she had rushed off in tears, he didn’t imagine she would find the courage to face him again anytime soon.