A Season of Change Read online

  Esther took the vase. “Who in the world would send me flowers?” She ran through the list of possibilities. She’d donated books to the local library, but that didn’t seem to warrant flowers. Last week she’d taken small quilted blankets she’d made to the hospital in Bedford, but she’d taken homemade items to the hospital for years. The staff always sent a nice thank-you card, not flowers.

  Lizzie bounced Regina on her hip, cooing and carrying on the way they always did around the babies. “Open the card,” Lizzie said as she pressed her nose against Regina’s.

  Esther placed the lovely arrangement of assorted flowers on the coffee table, then took the small envelope from the spike where it rested inside the plant. She peeled back the seal, took out the card, and read:

  My dearest Esther, these flowers can’t compare to your beauty, but they are an offering of my love.

  Esther’s jaw dropped as she put a hand to her chest. Lizzie was quickly by her side, still bouncing Regina on her hip. “Who sent the flowers?”

  “I don’t know,” she said softly as she held the card out so that Lizzie could read it.

  Her sister gasped before she looked at Esther with her eyes wide and wild. “Ach, I know who sent them.” She carried Regina back to Amos and handed the poor child over like a sack of flour before she marched back to Esther. “Grumpy Gus! That’s who sent the flowers, and I will not have that man as mei bruder-in-law, do you hear me?”

  Esther was too taken aback to say anything.

  Amos cleared his throat. “I better go back and see if Naomi survived her ordeal with Eve.” Laughing softly, he turned and left. Normally Esther and Lizzie would have begged him to leave the baby for a while, but this felt more urgent.

  Esther faced off with her sister. “Stop with such nonsense. Gus would not send me flowers.” Their renter—commonly referred to as Grumpy Gus, mostly by Lizzie—was a man about Esther’s age. He rented the third house on the property, a cottage within view of the main house.

  Lizzie stepped closer to Esther and slammed her hands to her hips. “When we used to have our weekly suppers with Amos and Naomi and Jayce and Evelyn, Gus was always here, and I saw the way he looked at you.” She dropped her arms to her sides, scowling as she clenched her hands into fists. “Disgusting behavior. I didn’t say anything because you told me I have to be nice to him.” She glared at the flowers. “But now he’s openly courting you.”

  Esther’s sister threw herself on the couch, tossed her head back against the cushion, and covered her face with both hands.

  “Ach, Lizzie, stop being so dramatic.” Esther rolled her eyes before she reread the card. “Gus would never do this. Besides, he knows where I live, so why would the flowers have ended up at the wrong house?” She shook her head as she wondered who else might have sent her flowers. In truth, Esther was probably Gus’s only friend—except for their former tenant Jayce. But Gus was English, and everyone agreed the man was grumpy. Sometimes that was a mild word to explain Gus’s behavior. And even though the man was nicer to Esther than to others, she still couldn’t wrap her mind around the possibility that Gus would try to court her.

  “The flowers were probably delivered by a florist, so that’s why they ended up at Naomi and Amos’s house—just a mistake the delivery person made.” Lizzie uncovered her face and sighed. “Since our supper group dismantled, Gus doesn’t get to see you as often.” She remained slumped into the couch cushions with a sour look on her face.

  “He sees me plenty.” Esther couldn’t stop staring at the words on the card, beautifully written, probably by a florist. It didn’t look like a man’s handwriting.

  Lizzie rose from the couch and raised her eyebrows. “You do go see him a lot.”

  “Ach, Lizzie, stop it. The man doesn’t have anyone to cook for him, so sometimes I take him leftovers or pie. Don’t you act like we’re carrying on. I am sure these flowers are not from Gus.” Esther chuckled. It sounded like a nervous laugh, even to her. “That’s just nonsense.”

  Lizzie folded her arms across her chest as she lifted her chin. “Then who would send you a bouquet with a note like that?”

  Esther avoided her sister’s piercing glare. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  Lizzie gasped as her eyes widened. “Maybe you have a stalker! It could be a person who’s ab im kopp!”

  “That’s enough, Lizzie. I don’t have a stalker or a crazy person sending me flowers.”

  Lizzie tapped a finger to her chin and paced the room before she stopped and faced Esther. “What kind of man would send flowers and not sign the card? A stalker, that’s who.” She began to pace again, her arms folded across her chest. “But who around here would do that?” She squeezed her eyes closed and groaned. “No. It’s Gus. It has to be.” She stomped off toward the downstairs bathroom. “I’m going to go take a bath and force myself to think happy thoughts about Rose and Benjamin,” she growled. “Because thinking of you and Gus together makes me want to vomit.” Her sister forcibly closed the door to her bedroom, then slammed the door to the bathroom Esther and Lizzie shared.

  Esther flinched both times before she walked to the window and stared at the cottage where Gus lived. Even though she would never admit it to anyone, she’d caught the way Gus looked at her sometimes. And he was nicer to her than he was to most people.

  She tiptoed to the door and gingerly eased the screen open, making sure it didn’t slam behind her. Then she made her way down the porch steps, across the front yard, and continued the trek to the cottage. Her heart pounded in her chest as she knocked on Gus’s door.

  Chapter 2

  Rose kept her eyes in front of her, occasionally cutting them to the side to catch a quick peek at her date. His incredible looks were enough to keep her quiet, hoping now more than ever that things might work out—although her head hurt from all the thoughts swirling around in her mind with nowhere to go. She wanted to tell him how much she had looked forward to the date, ask him where they were going to eat, how he liked his job, and all of the other questions she’d thought of when he first arrived at the inn. But she sat quietly, waiting for him to start a conversation. After he turned onto the main road, he finally spoke.

  “Um . . . where would you like to eat?” He glanced at her, but not for long.

  “Anywhere you would like.” She bit her lip, fighting the urge to give him a complete list of restaurants in the area, then tell him what she liked and disliked about each one.

  He was quiet, and the situation was already awkward. They hadn’t been gone ten minutes. Why isn’t he looking at me? Does he find me attractive? Those were questions she never would have spoken aloud, of course, even if she hadn’t made a vow of silence. But the thoughts were at the forefront of her mind.

  “I’m new here. I don’t really know where to go. Mei mamm always cooks.” He still didn’t turn her way.

  So Benjamin lived with his mother. She wanted to ask him why since she knew he was her age. How had he not found the right woman? He wasn’t a widow because he was clean-shaven. Did he also have some underlying personality flaw that kept him from finding his perfect match? Rose knew what hers was. Even though her head was about to explode with information that needed to be released, she took a deep breath and chose her words carefully.

  “Gasthof Village isn’t too far. It’s a buffet.” Rose forced a smile, longing to tell him that the restaurant and gift shop largely attracted tourists, but that they had very good food. She wanted to tell him about the offerings, what her favorites were, and what to stay away from. Rose had a favorite dessert there—the banana pudding. The restaurant didn’t have a lot of ambience, but there was a lot to choose from. But she bit her lip so hard she hoped it didn’t bleed as she folded her hands in her lap, clinging tightly to her small black purse.

  “Ya, okay.” He finally looked at her and smiled a little. “How, uh, do I get there?”

  Rose gave him directions. Then she sat there and wondered if this was going to be worth it.


  * * *

  Esther knocked on Gus’s door, and he opened it right away, as if he’d been standing on the other side of the entryway to the small cottage.

  “I don’t see any pie.” Gus’s gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the way it always was, and his jowls bounced like water balloons when he spoke. His gray beard was unkempt, as usual, and he rested his arms across his enlarged belly as he scowled.

  Esther opened her mouth to say something, then realized she hadn’t really planned out her question, or how she would handle Gus’s response.

  “Woman, I’m in the middle of eating supper.” He quickly held up his palms. “Stop. Before you tear into me about calling you ‘woman,’ I’ll just go ahead and say I’m sorry now. So what do you want, Esther? My delicious meal, which came out of a box by the way, is getting cold.”

  She chuckled, mostly to herself. They’d made huge strides over the past year. There was a time when Gus never would have apologized about anything. Now, though, Esther occasionally saw a glimpse of the man Gus might have been at one time, someone kinder and not so rude. But the moments were so fleeting that she felt silly for even being here. There was no way the man was capable of sending her flowers. “Never mind,” she finally said as she turned to leave.

  “Well, there must have been some reason you came over,” he called after her.

  Esther stopped slowly, turned around, and sighed. The only way she would get Lizzie off her back was to confirm that Gus didn’t send the floral arrangement.

  “I received a gift today.” She waited for any kind of reaction. When there wasn’t one, she continued. “Someone sent me flowers, along with a card that wasn’t signed. I was just wondering . . . uh . . . if it was you?”

  His face turned red as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He looked a bit flustered, which caused a spike in Esther’s blood pressure. Surely he didn’t do it. “Esther . . .” he said before he sighed. She held her breath and braced herself for whatever response was coming. “Do I look like the type of man who sends flowers to a woman?” He raised an eyebrow as his face returned to its normal color. She’d mistaken flustered for disgruntled. She was interrupting his meal.

  Esther chuckled, louder this time as her pulse returned to normal. “Nee, you don’t. But I don’t know many unmarried men, and I needed to confirm that you didn’t send the flowers. Lizzie is back at the haus about to have a heart attack because she thinks you sent the bouquet. I told her she was being ridiculous. Equally as ridiculous, she even mentioned that I might have a stalker.”

  She waited for him to laugh along with her, but he just stared at her with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds. “Why does she think you have a stalker?” He spoke in his usual discontented voice as he scratched his scruffy beard.

  Esther reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the card. She handed it to him. “This doesn’t sound like it came from someone in my quilting group.” She smirked, yet was still flattered by the flowers and card. She could feel herself blushing.

  He frowned as he read the card, then pushed it back at her. “If your crazy sister thinks you have a stalker, then go home and lock your doors.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m going in to finish my supper.” Gus closed the door in her face in his typical fashion.

  At least now she could go home and tell Lizzie that Gus definitely did not send her flowers.

  But as she crossed the field that separated the three houses like a baseball diamond without a home plate, she allowed herself a few minutes to consider what Lizzie said. Could she have a stalker? Gus didn’t seem to rule out the idea either, suggesting they lock the doors.

  By the time she was back at the house, her ponderings had gone full circle, and she had to laugh. I do not have a stalker. I have a secret admirer.

  When she walked in the door, Lizzie was standing in the middle of the living room with her arms across her chest and tapping a bare foot against the wood floor. “You just couldn’t wait to get over there to thank that baboon for the flowers, could you?”

  “Ach, hush, Lizzie.” Esther eyed the beautiful arrangement still on the coffee table before she faced off with her sister. “I can assure you that Gus did not send me the flowers. As a matter of fact”—she chortled—“he actually said to lock our doors if you think we might have a stalker.”

  She waited for Lizzie to laugh, too, but her sister’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “I hate to agree with Gus about anything, but maybe we should lock the doors.” She tapped a finger to her chin.

  Esther was having a hard time processing the fact that no one seemed to see the gesture as a secret admirer. “Lizzie, I’m well aware that I’m old and a somewhat large woman, but why can’t you—or even Gus—consider that it might be someone who feels fondly about me?”

  Lizzie dropped her arms to her sides as she shifted her dentures around in her mouth—something she did when she was in heavy thought. It had taken a long time for Lizzie to adjust to her false teeth, but these days the movement was more like a nervous tic.

  “First of all, you’re not a large woman. You’re just big-boned.” Lizzie smiled as she locked eyes with Esther. “And you’re the best person I know. Secondly, you’re only as old as you feel.”

  Esther sighed as she sat down on the couch. “I feel a hundred today.”

  “That’s because of the heat,” Lizzie said as she sat down beside her. “Any man would be blessed to win your affections, but Esther—” She paused, frowning. “How many men do we know who are widowers who might send flowers? It’s not even really our way to do that, for men to send flowers.” Lizzie went back to tapping her chin. “Hmm . . . let’s think about who else might have sent those.” She nodded to the vase. “Then Monday, we’ll head out and try to confirm our suspicions. But for now, we lock the doors at night.”

  “I think you are overreacting, and I’m surprised Gus mentioned locking the doors.”

  Lizzie groaned as she leaned her head against the back of the couch and squeezed her eyes closed. “Please quit mentioning that man’s name and insinuating we think alike. I’m a nice, genteel type of person. He’s a grumpy, mean old man.”

  Esther covered her mouth to hide the humor she found in her sister’s statement. Lizzie was her sister, her best friend, and Esther loved her with all her heart. But “genteel” was not a word to describe Lizzie.

  “Can we please just change the subject?” Esther looked over her shoulder as the sun began its final descent. “I wonder how Rose’s date is going.”

  Lizzie’s eyes lit up. “It’s July. We could have a wedding planned by November.” With her head still resting on the back of the couch, she turned to Esther and smiled.

  “This is their first date. Maybe we should wait to hear from Rose before we plan out her life.” Esther loved weddings. As she closed her eyes to rest, she said a quick prayer that the evening was going well for Rose.

  * * *

  Benjamin was on the worst date of his life. Rose was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. She was tall and slender with gorgeous brown eyes and brown hair. She had straight white teeth and a beautiful smile—when she allowed herself to show any emotion. But the woman had no personality at all. She barely talked, and when she did, her answers were one word or a short sentence. His mother and her friend had made a huge mistake with this matchmaking effort. This was not his definition of high energy, and it was a struggle to get her to speak at all. It was especially challenging for Benjamin since he was not used to instigating conversation, nor did he enjoy it.

  “The food is gut.” Benjamin was glad to be at the dessert stage of the date. The sooner it was over, the better.

  Rose was on her third dessert. She’d had a slice of pecan pie, two cookies, and went back for banana pudding. Normally, Benjamin would be happy to see one of his dates eating so heartily. Most of them nervously picked at their food without eating much at all. Rose might not be a talker, but she had no problem eating in front of him.
He wanted to ask her how she stayed so thin eating like that. Or maybe she was nervous, but showing it in a different way than his other dates.

  Benjamin tried to be patient as she finished her pudding. Despite the situation, he struggled not to grin. It was cute the way she ate so much, obviously not worried about what he thought. He liked that. It was the only thing he liked about her so far, if you didn’t count how outwardly gorgeous she was. Benjamin could look at her all day long and never tire of it, but he was already drained mentally. Just once, he wished he could meet a woman who could carry a conversation, had something meaningful to say, and had the ability to give Benjamin something to ponder. It was selfish. There shouldn’t be a need for a woman to delve into Benjamin’s psyche to get him to open up.

  He asked for the check as soon as she’d taken her last bite of pudding.

  “The meal was gut. Danki.” She smiled, and Benjamin smiled back at her. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. It was forward, and he wouldn’t do it, but he briefly considered it. But no need to hint that there might be another date forthcoming. There wouldn’t be. He was ready to get Rose Petersheim home.

  * * *

  This was the best date Rose had ever been on. Benjamin was handsome and polite, and Rose couldn’t have handled herself any better. She’d talked when he asked a question, kept her answers brief, and had not questioned him about anything. It was exhausting, but she suspected that as time went on, she’d get more comfortable with her new way of getting to know a person. Be a better listener. She heard Esther’s words in her head. The only problem was that Benjamin had very little to say, but Rose suspected he might be nervous. Maybe he would talk more on their next date. Rose was sure there would be a next date.

  Even though it was a quiet ride back to the inn—and Rose felt like she might explode from not talking—she couldn’t help but wonder if he would hug her good night, or maybe even kiss her on the cheek. She’d caught him staring at her several times. He looked at her mouth a lot so perhaps he longed to kiss her. That would be inappropriate on a first date, and she suspected Benjamin was enough of a gentleman not to be so forward. Although, a part of Rose wished he would pull her into his arms and kiss her passionately. Would the kiss be tender and light as a summer breeze, his lips warm and sweet on hers? Or would his mouth linger in harmony with hers as if a prelude for the future?