Yvonne reread for the third time the letter she’d received from Jake Lantz. Parts of his correspondence included words she wasn’t familiar with. She didn’t know much about the Amish, but after a quick Google search, she’d learned they spoke Pennsylvania Dutch and English. But even before she’d looked on the internet, Mr. Lantz’s words had registered, and Yvonne’s disappointment had quickly turned to anger as fury almost choked her.
Dear Mrs. Wilson,
I am in receipt of your letter dated May 2nd, and I must tell you that the book you inquired about is not for sale. Er dutt mir leed, and I wish you all of Gott’s blessings.
Sincerely,
Jake Lantz
With trembling hands, Yvonne handed the letter to Trevor, not even looking at him as she paced the living room, shaking her head. “Who does that? Who turns down a hundred grand?” After groaning, she threw her hands into the air. “I’ve spent months trying to find that book. And George is paying me a thirty percent commission, which is unheard of.”
Trevor set the letter on the coffee table in front of him as he lifted himself off the couch. By the time he wrapped his arms around Yvonne, she shook even more. He kissed her on the cheek and pulled her closer. “I told you to give up on that project a long time ago. We don’t need the money.”
Yvonne rolled her eyes. “Apparently, neither does Jake Lantz.” She let Trevor hold her for a few more seconds before she eased away, recognizing the familiar smell of cherry cough drop on his breath. He ate them like candy, citing a tickle in his throat that seemed to be terminal, he often joked. Yvonne had gotten used to the imitation breath mints a long time ago.
“I read up on the Amish, just a little, and they seem to live simple lives.” She shook her head again. “But no one turns down that kind of money, Amish or not.”
“I see he addresses you as Mrs. Wilson.” Trevor grinned as he tucked her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ears. “Soon enough, you’ll be Mrs. Trevor Adams.”
Yvonne forced a smile even though she was angry enough to spit nails at a guy named Jake Lantz, a man she’d never met. “That money would have gone a long way toward wedding expenses, a bigger house, or even a new car.”
Trevor cupped her cheeks before he tenderly kissed her lips, lingering there for what he probably presumed was long enough to calm her down. “The wedding is paid for. We’ve been looking at houses, and I’ll buy you any car you want.”
Yvonne took a deep breath. Trevor was the most generous human being she’d ever known. He was kind, good looking, successful, and had never met a stranger. She was lucky to be engaged to him. But unlike Yvonne, Trevor had been born into a family that had money. Not to say Trevor didn’t work hard. He did. But the value of a dollar didn’t mean the same to both of them. Yvonne had always made her own way. The house they were standing in, soon to be put on the market, was the biggest purchase she’d ever made. Modest as it was, she’d never been prouder than the day she’d closed on the property. After she married Trevor in the fall, they’d move into his larger home—unless they found something even bigger first. They were both in their early thirties and anxious to start a family soon. But she would miss her first house.
“I love you for wanting to take care of me, but . . .” She trailed off and shrugged.
“I know.” He sighed as he ran a hand through his dark hair, his temples sprinkled with gray. “You want to take care of yourself. And I get that.” Now he was the one shaking his head. “But you’ve worked hard all your life. And you’ve been on a wild-goose chase for that book George wants. Just let it go. We’ll go rent a house at the beach or something for a long weekend. If George wants it so bad, then he can travel to Indiana and try to talk the guy into selling it.”
Yvonne felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her veins. “That’s it. I’ll go to Indiana. I’ll get the guy to sell it.”
“Not everything is for sale.” Trevor walked around the coffee table and sat on Yvonne’s powder-blue couch. Everything in her living room was styled in outdated pastels, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to redecorate. What was the point now—unless maybe it would help the house to sell sooner? Her stomach clenched at the thought of someone else living in her home.
“Yes, everything is for sale. George will offer more money.” Yvonne was pacing again, her mind spinning. “I won’t tell him about the letter. I’ll just go to Indiana, convince the guy to sell, but then if he doesn’t, I’ll explain to George while I’m there.”
Trevor frowned as he lifted his socked feet up onto the coffee table. “I can go with you for a long weekend, but I’ve got those men from corporate coming in from New York next week, so—”
“No, no. You don’t need to go.” Yvonne avoided his eyes, knowing she’d spoken too quickly. She loved Trevor and looked forward to being his wife, but this might be her last time to do something totally on her own. She’d watched too many of her friends go from self-reliant women to subservient wives in barely the blink of an eye. Maybe it wouldn’t be that way with Trevor. She didn’t expect to have to change after she was married, especially when Trevor always said he admired her independence. But still, the thought lingered in the back of her mind.
“I don’t need to go, or you don’t want me to go?” Trevor held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “You know how delicate my feelings are.” He spoke so overdramatically that she almost laughed. “It’s okay to want some time to yourself and to tackle this project on your own.” Grinning, he patted the spot beside him on the couch. “So, come give me a little love, beautiful, before you jet off to Small Town, Indiana.”
She sat on the couch and curled up in his arms.
He kissed her on the forehead and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Even though I wish you would let the whole thing go. It’s had you tied up in knots.” He twisted to face her until their eyes locked. “But I don’t want to be that kind of husband. We’re not always going to agree on everything, and I’m not ever going to try to change you. I can tell buying the book is important to you.”
This time it was Yvonne who initiated the kiss, wondering if Trevor could read her mind.
Despite their close connection and the love they felt for each other, she couldn’t help but wonder if their intimacy would always be infused with such passion. She was thirty-two and had held out for the perfect man. And she’d found everything she longed for in Trevor. But the closer they got to the date of their wedding in September, the more impossible it was not to feel a little nervous. How could anyone really be sure they would love one person for the rest of their lives?
“How long will you be gone?” Trevor kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat, sending a delightful shiver up her spine. She would miss this—miss Trevor—while she was away. But Jake Lantz had presented her with the biggest challenge of her career. And George was her biggest client. She didn’t want to let him down.
“However long it takes to get that Amish man to sell the book.” She leaned in for another kiss before he could argue.
* * *
Jake turned the key in the lock and opened the front door, breathing in the familiar smell of the old building. He’d owned the small bookstore since his grandfather left it to him four years ago. Jake had grown up at his grandfather’s side and had spent more time at the bookstore than at home. He’d known the business inside and out by the time he was twelve. Thirteen years later, not much had changed, even though his grandfather had told Jake repeatedly to redecorate or adjust things to suit himself. Jake had chosen to leave everything exactly as it had been. The only thing he’d done after his grandfather died was to hire help. Eva Graber had been working for him for four years. He’d hired her when she was fifteen, and she’d been a quick study. She was a book lover, like he was, and a whiz with numbers. These days, she took care of all the accounting and ordering, kept the coffee bar stocked, and made sure the place was always clean.
“Wie bischt.” Eva walked in toting a basket on her arm. To Jake, it looked like a mini picnic basket, and he was always glad to see her carrying it into the bookstore. It meant she’d brought tasty treats.
He breathed in the aroma as she walked closer to the counter he was standing behind. “Wie bischt.” He sniffed the air. “Cinnamon rolls?”
Eva smiled. “Ya.” She scooted past the counter. “I’m going to put them in the back room, then get the coffee percolating.”
There was a makeshift kitchen in the back, which was the one thing Jake knew he should probably upgrade. Although there was room for a propane oven, they were still using a propane burner atop the small counter. Reheating things on the burner wasn’t convenient. Of course, they didn’t have a microwave, either, or any electricity at all. Some shop owners had succumbed to more modern conveniences when the bishop approved it, but Jake liked things the way they were. Although a small propane oven would make things easier for Eva.
Jake had watched Eva grow into a beautiful young woman. She was six years his junior at nineteen, and he knew he’d soon lose her to a lucky man. Most likely John Yoder. John had been smitten with Eva for a long time, and he’d confessed his feelings to Jake about a year ago. In fact, Jake was pretty sure the entire town knew how John felt about Eva. But if Eva was aware of John’s feelings, she’d never let on, and she had yet to go on a date with him as far as Jake knew. He wasn’t sure if Eva had gone on a date with anyone.
Jake had grown up with John, a man two years younger than him. John had planned things out meticulously. He’d told Jake that first he wanted to land a good job. Then he wanted to build a house. When that was accomplished, he would court Eva and ask her to marry him. John had a good job with a local construction company now, and he was putting the finishing touches on his house. It probably wouldn’t be long until he and Eva started to date. Personally, Jake thought it was risky for John not to ask Eva out sooner, for fear someone else would beat him to it. But perhaps potential suitors didn’t want to get in the way of John’s plan. John had certainly mentioned his intentions to most of the eligible men in their district.
Jake had to admit they would make a fine-looking couple, even though the thought left him feeling unsettled sometimes. After Eva married, Jake would be forced to find her replacement. She’d have a full-time job taking care of her husband and running their household.
As it should be.
He sighed as he wondered if he would ever have that life—a wife along with a houseful of children. He’d dated on and off, but he’d yet to find the woman he wanted to plan his future with.
He pushed the button on the cash register and began loading the slots with money he carted to and from the store each day. The task reminded him of his grandfather. Thoughts of Jeremiah Lantz brought fond memories these days, but back when his grandfather died, Jake hadn’t been sure how he’d get up each morning. Jake’s grandmother had died when he was four or five, and he didn’t remember much about her. Losing his grandfather had been the first time he’d experienced real grief.
But at least he had his grandfather’s bookstore and the home that had been in his family for generations. Jake’s parents had moved to the smaller house on the family’s property—the daadi haus—after his grandfather died, leaving Jake to run the farm and reside in the big house. His mother had been insistent about it, obviously anxious for Jake to get married and start a family.
As Jake was an only child, his father still helped out when he could, but a tractor accident years ago had left him with a bad back that had gotten worse over the past few years. It was a small farm, though, and manageable. The only time the bookstore and the farm competed for Jake’s time was during planting season and throughout the harvest.
Eva came around the corner carrying two cups of coffee. The skylight directly above the counter filtered the early-morning rays and was always the first spot brightened each morning. As the sun rose, the rest of the skylights welcomed the incoming light, each one gaining in brightness slowly until the natural hues of the sun shone on a new day throughout the store.
“Danki,” he said when Eva handed him his cup of coffee—always in the same white mug, perfectly percolated, and with one teaspoon of sugar. As he took a sip, he peeked over the edge of his cup and wondered for the hundredth time if Eva had any idea how gorgeous she was. Her light brown hair framed a delicate face, and she had a smile that lit up a room. Jake had watched visitors in the store—Amish and non-Amish—stare at her in awe. She’d become a woman overnight, it seemed, dainty yet strong in her convictions.
Eva had yet to give any single men her attention. Jake was selfishly glad about that since he’d lose her as an employee. But he wanted her to find the perfect man and be happy. She deserved that. Maybe she was secretly waiting on John Yoder.
* * *
Eva walked around the counter and sidled up to Jake, breathing in the sandalwood soap he used, mingled with his minty mouthwash. “Do you want me to make selections from the catalog, or do you want to have a go at it?”
Jake chuckled. “The last time I had ‘a go at it,’ we ended up returning a lot of inventory. I think you have a better feel for what our customers want.” He dug through a pile of paperwork on the counter, then handed her two publishers’ catalogs. One was tailored toward commercial fiction and the other toward books more biblical in nature. Jake had carried on his grandfather’s wishes by stocking only clean and wholesome fiction, which—luckily for the shop—was gobbled up by Amish and English readers alike. The English women were particularly fond of love stories about the Amish, although plenty of Amish women purchased the novels too. The bishop wasn’t keen about members of his district reading about romantic interludes, no matter how clean and wholesome they might be. But he tended to look the other way, according to what his wife had told Jake years ago.
“Your account is holding steady. Do you want me to order around the same number of books as we have been lately?” Eva’s heart beat a little faster, the way it always did when she was close to Jake. “And several gift items were popular and sold quickly. I can reorder those.”
Jake nodded as he turned to her and smiled. “I trust you to order whatever we need.”
What she needed was for Jake to notice her as the woman she’d become, not the fifteen-year-old girl he’d hired four years ago. But every time she tried to insert herself into his life as more than an employee, he didn’t even seem to notice her efforts. Or maybe he just didn’t find her attractive.
“Here.” He reached for a cell phone he kept in his pocket. Prior to a couple of months ago, Jake had held out on getting a mobile device. But nearly everyone in the community had a phone, with the bishop’s blessing as long as it was for emergencies or business use. Eva had a phone, too, but she didn’t flaunt it. Her father wasn’t fond of mobile phones, and as long as she was under her parents’ roof, she tried to abide by the rules. Most of them. Her three brothers had phones, too, but they also tried to be respectful of their father’s wishes by at least keeping the devices out of sight. Her mother didn’t seem to mind the phones, citing them as a necessity for their work. Josh, David, and Amos all worked at a local lumberyard. Their work didn’t necessarily require a phone, but keeping in contact with their girlfriends did.
Eva had been on the phone placing orders for about fifteen minutes when another call came in. She let it go to voice mail, then handed the phone to Jake when he came out from the back room. “Someone called and left a message.”
He looked at the number of the missed call and shrugged before he began to listen to the message. After he’d clicked the phone off, he set it on the counter and scratched his cheek.
“Everything okay?”
Jake sat down on the stool behind the counter. “Ya, I guess.”
Eva bit her bottom lip, tempted to push for more information but unwilling to pry. Although as Jake sighed and shook his head, she couldn’t help but wonder who had left the message. Finally, he looked at her, blinking his eyes as if bewildered.
“The message was from a woman who wrote me a letter not long ago. She was wanting to purchase a book I have in my inventory.” He paused, shifting his eyes away from hers a moment before he looked at her again. “I wrote her back and told her the book wasn’t for sale.” It was hard to miss the irritation in his voice.
Eva sat on the other stool and faced him. “It’s a bookstore. Aren’t all the books for sale?”
He twisted his mouth back and forth, the way he did sometimes when he was in heavy thought. “Not the one she wants.”
“Which book?” Eva couldn’t imagine any of the inventory being unavailable for sale.
“It’s not out on the shelf.” He stood up and walked around the counter, then began pacing the small area near the front door, his thumbs looped beneath his suspenders. “She offered an absurd amount of money.”
Eva wondered what Jake considered an absurd amount. A hundred dollars? Maybe two hundred? Currently, they didn’t have any books that were priced higher than thirty-five dollars—at least none she was aware of. The store sold mostly paperbacks—fiction and nonfiction—along with a few hardbacks Eva had ordered during a sale or discount by the publisher.
“I’m wondering how she got mei phone number.” He stopped pacing, took off his hat, and scratched his head, frowning. Then he grumbled. “Ach, I ran some advertisements and used mei mobile phone number. Maybe that was it. But she isn’t local. She lives in Texas.”
Eva still wondered which book the woman had offered to buy and why it wasn’t for sale. “Why would a woman in Texas want to buy a book from your small bookstore in Montgomery, Indiana?”
He shook his head, scowling. “I don’t know. But she was willing to pay a lot of money for it.”
Eva held her breath but finally couldn’t stand it. “Over a hundred dollars?”
Jake locked eyes with her, then laughed. “Ya, you could say that. She wanted to buy it for a hundred thousand dollars.”
Eva placed her hands firmly on the counter when she almost fell off her stool. After she picked up her jaw, she thought for a few moments. “I read in the newspaper that people make calls that aren’t real. They call them scam calls. Maybe it wasn’t a real offer?” It couldn’t be.
“She didn’t offer the money over the phone the first time. She sent a letter and said she would pay that much.”
Eva took a deep breath as she tried to sort things out. “Did she make the same offer again when she left a message just now?”
Jake nodded. “Ya, she did. She’s very pushy.”
Eva stood up, walked around the counter, and leaned against it, watching Jake start to pace again. “That can’t be a real offer. What book could possibly be worth that much money?” She hoped he would tell her. And on the off chance it was a genuine offer, why in the world wouldn’t Jake sell the woman the book? For a long time, he had wanted to paint the entire building. It also needed a new roof. The building could stand to be leveled. And there was plenty more that needed to be done to the old structure. But Jake didn’t have time, and Eva sensed he didn’t have enough money, even in his personal accounts, to hire someone to make the repairs.
Their people lived simple lives, but homes and businesses still needed repairs. Eva was sure the community would come together to assist Jake with the structural repairs, but when she’d brought up the subject before, he’d shunned the idea, citing the fact everyone was too busy to take on extra projects. She reminded him of the barn raisings they were able to accomplish in one to two days, but Jake didn’t want to ask for help. Pride was frowned upon, but they were human, and the emotion was evident in their community just like everywhere else.
Jake seemed to be thinking about the money too. “When mei grossdaadi left me the bookstore, he told me to make any changes I wanted to, that it was my store.” He glanced at her. “That was when he first fell ill. But I liked things the way they were. Still do.” He pointed upward. “We need a new roof. And other work. But I chose to keep the interior mostly the same.”
Eva liked when he said “we” when referring to the bookstore. “Jake, I don’t want to overstep.” She paused and waited for him to look at her. “But a hundred thousand dollars would put a new roof on the store and also take care of a lot of the repairs you’ve mentioned before.”
“Ya, ya. I know.” Sighing, he leaned up against the counter next to her. “There was one stipulation mei grossdaadi made when he gave me the store. I could do anything I wanted, but I was never to sell a certain book.” He lowered his head, shaking it, then looked at her. “That’s the book this woman wants to buy, and no amount of money will tempt me to break that promise.”
“Do you know why your grossdaadi made you promise not to sell the book?” Eva’s arm brushed against his as they stood side by side, causing a tingling in the pit of her stomach.
He shook his head. “Nee, I have no idea. At the time, I didn’t think much about it. I assumed it had some sort of sentimental value, and maybe it does.”
Eva thought she might burst if Jake didn’t tell her about the book, but she clamped her mouth closed.
Grinning, he turned toward her. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? I never thought about the book having a monetary value.”
Eva wasn’t sure what was crazier—the woman’s definitely absurd offer or Jake’s refusal to sell the book. But she believed in keeping promises, and the fact that Jake would turn down that kind of money solidified what Eva had always known. The man she was in love with was a genuine and honest person.
She nodded.
“And do you want to know what’s even crazier?” He stopped smiling, and his expression shifted to one of worry, the lines between his eyebrows forming a V as he scowled. “That woman left a message saying she was coming here to discuss purchase of the book.”
Eva’s eye widened. “All the way from Texas? She must really want you to sell.” Her curiosity rose another notch. What book?
“It will be a wasted trip for her. I’m not selling it.” Jake sighed.
Eva was going to self-combust if he didn’t tell her about this book soon, but instead of querying him further, she said, “When will this woman be here?”
His dreamy blue eyes hardened. “Day after tomorrow.” After he held the expression for a few seconds, he walked away, unlocked the basement door, and headed down the stairs.
Eva had never understood why the basement door was always locked. But now she wondered—was the book in the basement? What else is down there?