almost rather believe that.” His voice was troubled. “The Amish aren’t exactly noted for producing prowlers. You never met a more law-abiding bunch.”
She shivered. “That’s not all. It—he—the figure seemed to be looking up at the window where I wasstanding. He raised his arm, as if he were shaking his fist at me. And if you tell me I was dreaming—”
“I don’t doubt you.” Without seeming to know he was doing it, Cal pulled her closer. “But we’ve got to think this through before we do anything. Can you imagine the repercussions if something like this hit the newspapers?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but I see what you mean.” Like it or not, and they didn’t, the Amish were newsworthy. A story like that could get out of control in hours. She glanced up the stairs. “I don’t want Grams upset, and that would devastate her.”
“Well, whoever he was, he’s gone now.” Cal brushed damp hair back from his brow. “Are you okay if we hold off making a decision until we can talk this over in the morning?”
She was insensibly comforted by the way he said we . Whatever came, she wasn’t alone in this. “Yes, all right. After all, he didn’t really do anything except lurk. The house is locked up securely.”
“Good.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll take another look around before I go back to the barn. We’ll talk in the morning. Meantime, try to get some sleep, or your grandmother will want to know why your eyes are so heavy.” He turned to go back out into the rain.
“Wait. Do you want an umbrella?”
“Why?” Cal paused on the threshold, his smile flashing. “I can’t get any wetter than I already am. Good night. Lock the door.”
“No chance I’ll forget that.”
He vanished almost at once into the darkness beyondthe reach of the light. She locked the door, realizing that she was smiling.
Amazing. If anyone had told her fifteen minutes ago that she’d find anything to smile about tonight, she’d have said they were crazy.
SEVEN
C al frowned at the mug of coffee in his hand and then set it out of the way on the barn floor. He needed something to get his brain moving after the previous night’s alarms, but caffeine wasn’t doing the job.
He picked up a sanding block and knelt next to a reproduction of an old-fashioned dry sink, running the fine sandpaper along its grain. This was better than coffee for what ailed him.
What he really needed was to talk with Andrea, but he’d known better than to go to the inn first thing this morning. Katherine would be up and Emma already busy in the kitchen, making it impossible to have a private conversation. He’d have to wait until after their breakfast was over, at least.
He ran his hand along the curved edge of the dry sink’s top. Smooth as silk—that was what he wanted. Taking shortcuts at this stage would show up eventually in the finished product, ruining the piece for him.
Even the work didn’t chase away his troubled thoughts, unfortunately. He couldn’t stop chewing onthe implications of what Andrea had seen. Or thought she’d seen.
A few days earlier, he might have been tempted to believe she was making up her tale of a prowler, just to convince her grandmother to sell. Now, he knew her better. Andrea wouldn’t do that.
No, he didn’t doubt that she’d seen someone, but was it beyond belief that the man, whoever he was, wasn’t Amish? She’d seen a figure in dark clothes, but peering out into the storm from an upstairs window, she couldn’t have seen all that much. Maybe her imagination had taken the prowler’s dark clothing and filled in the rest.
Somehow he didn’t relish the idea of bringing that up with her.
“Cal?”
He straightened at the sound of Andrea’s voice, dismayed at the flood of pleasure he felt at the sight of her. She stood for a moment in a stripe of sunlight at the barn door.
“Come in. How are you? Nothing else happened, did it?”
She came toward him, the
She shivered. “That’s not all. It—he—the figure seemed to be looking up at the window where I wasstanding. He raised his arm, as if he were shaking his fist at me. And if you tell me I was dreaming—”
“I don’t doubt you.” Without seeming to know he was doing it, Cal pulled her closer. “But we’ve got to think this through before we do anything. Can you imagine the repercussions if something like this hit the newspapers?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but I see what you mean.” Like it or not, and they didn’t, the Amish were newsworthy. A story like that could get out of control in hours. She glanced up the stairs. “I don’t want Grams upset, and that would devastate her.”
“Well, whoever he was, he’s gone now.” Cal brushed damp hair back from his brow. “Are you okay if we hold off making a decision until we can talk this over in the morning?”
She was insensibly comforted by the way he said we . Whatever came, she wasn’t alone in this. “Yes, all right. After all, he didn’t really do anything except lurk. The house is locked up securely.”
“Good.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll take another look around before I go back to the barn. We’ll talk in the morning. Meantime, try to get some sleep, or your grandmother will want to know why your eyes are so heavy.” He turned to go back out into the rain.
“Wait. Do you want an umbrella?”
“Why?” Cal paused on the threshold, his smile flashing. “I can’t get any wetter than I already am. Good night. Lock the door.”
“No chance I’ll forget that.”
He vanished almost at once into the darkness beyondthe reach of the light. She locked the door, realizing that she was smiling.
Amazing. If anyone had told her fifteen minutes ago that she’d find anything to smile about tonight, she’d have said they were crazy.
SEVEN
C al frowned at the mug of coffee in his hand and then set it out of the way on the barn floor. He needed something to get his brain moving after the previous night’s alarms, but caffeine wasn’t doing the job.
He picked up a sanding block and knelt next to a reproduction of an old-fashioned dry sink, running the fine sandpaper along its grain. This was better than coffee for what ailed him.
What he really needed was to talk with Andrea, but he’d known better than to go to the inn first thing this morning. Katherine would be up and Emma already busy in the kitchen, making it impossible to have a private conversation. He’d have to wait until after their breakfast was over, at least.
He ran his hand along the curved edge of the dry sink’s top. Smooth as silk—that was what he wanted. Taking shortcuts at this stage would show up eventually in the finished product, ruining the piece for him.
Even the work didn’t chase away his troubled thoughts, unfortunately. He couldn’t stop chewing onthe implications of what Andrea had seen. Or thought she’d seen.
A few days earlier, he might have been tempted to believe she was making up her tale of a prowler, just to convince her grandmother to sell. Now, he knew her better. Andrea wouldn’t do that.
No, he didn’t doubt that she’d seen someone, but was it beyond belief that the man, whoever he was, wasn’t Amish? She’d seen a figure in dark clothes, but peering out into the storm from an upstairs window, she couldn’t have seen all that much. Maybe her imagination had taken the prowler’s dark clothing and filled in the rest.
Somehow he didn’t relish the idea of bringing that up with her.
“Cal?”
He straightened at the sound of Andrea’s voice, dismayed at the flood of pleasure he felt at the sight of her. She stood for a moment in a stripe of sunlight at the barn door.
“Come in. How are you? Nothing else happened, did it?”
She came toward him, the
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