My cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. I squinted at it, stifling a yawn. Tanisha’s face grinned back at me from the picture I took of her when her parents and I dropped her off at the airport for her flight to Italy over five months ago. Hard to believe I hadn’t seen my best friend in such a long time. The screen went dark.
Almost immediately, the vibrating began again.
I snatched it up. “What time is it?”
“Noon here, which makes it six your time.” Her voice was chipper, as usual.
I groaned.
“Sorry to call so early, but I couldn’t wait another minute. Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I mumbled, half into the phone, and half into my pillow.
“Anything new and exciting out in the country there?”
Her question made my eyes pop open. “You could say that.”
“Ooh, that’s sounds good. Does it have to do with dreamy Timothy? I almost died when you e-mailed me his picture. He’s hot.”
Heat rose in my cheeks.
“Are you blushing?”
“How would you know that?”
“Because you sound like you’re blushing.”
“I sound like it? You can’t sound like you’re blushing.” I flipped over onto my back.
“Trust me, you can. I always know when you are blushing. I wish I could find a boyfriend like Timothy.”
“First of all, Timothy is not my boyfriend. At least we’ve never spoken about it.”
She snorted. “From everything you’ve told me, you’re dating him.”
“We’ve never been on an actual date.”
“Girl, you need to ask him, then.”
“I can’t do that. He’s Amish . . . or used to be. He might be offended if a girl asked him out.”
“I don’t want to go all Women’s Lib on you, but if he has a problem with that, there might be bigger issues down the road. You’re not the type to sit home, have babies, and cook.”
“Who said anything about babies?” I yelped. Beth Hilty? Now, Tanisha? “And cooking. He already knows I can’t cook.”
“See, and he still likes you. He’s not as Old School as you think.” She paused. “Maybe he thinks you’re courting? How sweet is that? It’s like you’re living out a scene from Pride and Prejudice.”
“More like Little House on the Prairie,” I muttered. Desperate to change the subject, I ventured, “Speaking of guys, have you heard from Cole?” Cole was Tanisha’s former fiancé. He broke off their engagement months ago when she refused to leave her teaching job in Milan to marry him earlier than planned. This was after Cole never voiced concern about Tee being away for two years of their engagement.
It was Tee’s turn to groan. “Yes. I have ten e-mails from him in my inbox right now.”
“What do they say?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t opened any of them.”
“Tee . . .”
“I’m afraid to open them. What if he never wants to see me again?” She sighed. “What if he wants to get back together?”
“Which is worse?”
She groaned. “I don’t know.”
“Do you still love him?”
“I do, but there’s another problem.”
I didn’t like the sound of this. “What?”
“You know how the dumpee keeps the engagement ring?”
“Uh-huh.” I had a sneaking suspicion this story wouldn’t end well. “You have the ring, then?”
“No.”
“You gave it back to him?”
“No.”
Uh-oh. “Tee, where is the ring?”
“Well . . .”
“Tee?”
She took a deep breath. “The weekend he dumped me was sweltering in the city. A group of teachers from school traveled to Lake Como to escape the heat. I went too.”
I didn’t like the sound of this. A lake was involved. I was afraid of what I would hear next.
“I kind of threw it into the lake.”
“You . . . kind of?”
“Okay, I did. I threw the ring into the lake. It felt good.” She paused. “At the time.”
I closed my eyes and saw the pear-shaped, one-carat diamond ring that I’d spent hours helping Cole select. He wanted the perfect ring for Tanisha, and I knew what she liked better than anyone. I winced at the cost of the ring. It would pay six months of my rent.
“Are you still there?” Tee asked.
I rolled over to the other side on the bed. “I’m here.”
“So, can’t you see why I’m afraid to talk to him?”
“No kidding.”
“And I don’t want to hear a lecture about why I shouldn’t have thrown the ring in the lake, okay?”
“I wasn’t going to give any.” I sighed. “Forward the e-mails to me. I’ll read them for you. If they’re bad I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version. If he wants to get back together, maybe he won’t be that upset about the ring. Maybe he will understand.”
“You think so?”
No. Not really. I wasn’t going to tell her what I thought Cole’s reaction would really be. Cole had expensive taste and appreciated money. He wouldn’t want his ring to be at the bottom of Lake Como.
To get both of our minds off of our pathetic love lives, I said, “I have other news.”
“What’s that?”
“I found a dead body.”
“What?!”
I had to hold the cell phone away from my ear.
“Tell me what happened. You let me go on and on about Cole and you are dealing with dead people. Spill.”
“It was an Amish man.”
Tanisha gave a sharp intake of breath. “What is it with you and dead Amish guys?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I proceeded to tell her about the haircutting and discovery of Ezekiel Young’s body.
“How gruesome,” Tanisha said, although the tone of her voice held a hint of morbid interest. After a moment, she said, “Do you think you’re in any danger?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
I could smell bread baking. Becky must already be up.
The smile came back into her voice. “Timothy will protect you.”
“What about Women’s Lib?”
“I use it when convenient. Look, Chloe, I have to go. The American teachers at school are having a little Thanksgiving for all the school staff tonight. I’m making a pumpkin pie.”
“Where did you find the pumpkin over there?”
“It wasn’t easy.” After a beat, she said, “I know this weekend must be weird since it’s the first time you’re not going to your dad’s for Thanksgiving. Even though I’m not there, I want you to know how much I love you.”
I released a deep sigh. “I love you too, friend.”
After we hung up, I was unable to fall back asleep, so I threw my legs over the side of the bed. It didn’t feel like Thanksgiving. Typically, on this morning, I was in California in my father’s guest bedroom trying to talk myself into getting up and going downstairs to subject myself to my stepmother’s criticism. Oddly, I missed it.
More than that, I missed the chance to see my half brother and half sister. I barely knew them, but each year they grew a little taller and a little more like mini-adults. I wondered if I would see them again. Would this be a standard thing? Sabrina talking my dad into a vacation each Thanksgiving? Maybe she planned it that way because it was the one holiday of the year that I spent with them. Almost ten years later, she had finally severed all contact between my father and me. Not that she was solely the blame. My father didn’t try to stop her, and a small voice reminded me I gave up long ago. I had gotten burned too many times.
I followed the smell of baking bread and the drone of the television downstairs.
Becky hummed to herself as she removed sweet potatoes from the oven. A crust of lightly browned marshmallows lay over the top. On the small kitchen table sat an assortment of fresh baked breads and casserole dishes.
My mouth fell open. “What time did you get up?”
“I never went to sleep.” She grinned. “I was up half the night looking for recipes on your computer. I found so many I liked, I had to make them all.” She removed her oven mitt. “Maam said I could bring a few things for the meal today.”
“A few things? It looks like you have the entire meal covered.”
“Not even close. There’s no turkey, and I could never make a pie crust like Maam can.”
I pulled a kitchen chair out from under the table. “Can I help?”
“You can help pack everything in the car when the time comes.”
“Deal.”
“Do you want anything for breakfast?”
I shook my head. “By the looks of it, I’d better save my appetite.”
“I can’t wait to share all these recipes with my family.” Her cheeks glowed from the heat of the oven.
When it was time to head to the farm, we carefully loaded the backseat and trunk of my Bug with all of Becky’s dishes. She climbed into the passenger seat, and I handed her a casserole dish. “You’ll have to hold the sweet potatoes. There’s no room for them in the backseat.”
“Too bad Gigabyte can’t come,” Becky said. “I don’t like it he’s alone on Thanksgiving.”
“He doesn’t like to ride in cars.” I shivered at the memory of Gigabyte howling the entire way to Appleseed Creek the day we moved to town. “Plus Mabel will be there. They aren’t exactly friends.”
“We’ll bring him some turkey.”
“He’d like that.”
As we turned out of town, Curt’s green pickup approached from the other direction. He honked the horn as he passed me, and waved. I clutched the steering wheel and forced myself to stare straight ahead.