Plain Dead by Emma Miller

have anything suitable for Amish children?”
    â€œWe sure do. I have an illustrated nonfiction on beginning beekeeping and another about raising sheep. I made sure George remembered. No make-believe and no talking animals.”
    â€œSuper,” Rachel agreed. “Nonfiction or stories about children’s lives in other countries are always welcome. So long as there’s no violence.” Rachel glanced around the gymnasium. “There are more people here than I thought there would be on a Monday morning.”
    â€œTell me about it. Lots of locals, but a lot of unfamiliar faces, too. I thought after what happened to poor Mr. Billingsly that visitors might stay away from the town, but it seems to be just the opposite. I’ve talked to several people who weren’t here for the weekend festivities, but came today after reading about the murder in their morning paper.”
    â€œI’m not sure if I should say I’m glad to hear it or not.” Rachel grimaced. “I mean I’m glad people are coming—”
    â€œBut not exactly how we wanted to get word out,” Ell finished for her.
    A browser picked up a book off one of the tables and held it up. “I’m looking for something by this author on Amish quilts,” the woman said to Ell.
    â€œI think I have exactly what you’re looking for, but it’s back at the main store. I can call the desk and ask one of the girls to bring it over, if you’d like.” Ell smiled at the customer. “Talk to you later,” she said quickly to Rachel.
    â€œNo problem. I’m just going to leave my coat here with you, if you don’t mind. I’ll be back for it.”
    â€œOf course.”
    Ell took her coat and Rachel moved on. At Coyote’s pottery booth, she found Blade with Remi and two small, very blond daughters. Remi had a real stethoscope hanging around his neck, and the girls were taking turns pushing a doll carriage with a stuffed monkey in it.
    â€œI’m the pediatrician,” Remi declared. He rolled his eyes. “Mama said I have to be nice to them until she comes back. The baby needs his shots.”
    â€œRemi is the doctor,” one girl proclaimed.
    The stuffed monkey was wearing a pink baby hat and infant sleeper. One of the girls nodded and patted the monkey’s head in sympathy.
    â€œYou’re holding down the fort again?” Rachel asked Blade.
    â€œIt’s what I do.” He opened his arms wide and grinned. “But Coyote should be back any minute. Some lady from Harrisburg wanted to take some of Coyote’s pieces on consignment. The two them went to the studio to see what the woman might be interested in selling, but they’ve been gone a while.” He motioned toward an empty space on a table. “We sold that green pitcher you liked this morning.”
    â€œGreat,” Rachel said.
    He smoothed the hair of his long ponytail. “I heard congratulations are in order. You and Evan Parks?”
    â€œYes.” She gave him a quick smile. “Thank you.”
    From behind the counter came the wail of an infant. Rachel hadn’t even noticed him there.
    â€œAnd another country heard from,” Blade quipped.
    The baby was swaddled in blankets in a large woven basket behind the display table. Blade fumbled in the front pocket of his flannel shirt and fished out a pacifier. He squatted down and popped it in the baby’s mouth. He grinned at Rachel. “Works every time. Whoever invented those things, she should have gotten a Nobel Peace Prize.”
    Rachel smiled and turned to watch as one of the girls pushed the carriage forward, nearly colliding with a lady in a black peacoat and a fur hat.
    â€œEasy there, Shoshone,” Blade warned. But he hadn’t spoken soon enough. The carriage tipped over, and the stuffed monkey slid out.
    Shoshone’s sister snatched up the baby and ran with it, and Shoshone scrambled after her.