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 b...
