The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) Read online

  “No need to mention things like that.” She wrote two specials on her pad and then went for the coffeepot.

  Soon the diner filled up with people headed to the auction, so for an hour neither woman knew which end was up. When the breakfast crowd cleared out, Leah wiped down the counter with spray cleaner. Someone was sitting in the last booth she hadn’t noticed before. His nose was buried in a newspaper but the top of his head revealed hair as black as a crow’s.

  Upon recognition, Leah felt a shiver of excitement. Carrying over the coffeepot, she smoothed her wrinkled apron along the way. “Hello,” she said merrily. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

  Jonah Byler set down his paper and glanced up. All of Leah’s aplomb vanished when she looked into those robin’s egg blue eyes. “Hi, Leah. I wanted to see where you worked…to see what kind of a diner needed oddball, artistic cheeses.” His deep dimples reappeared.

  “Do you think you might be able to forget those two words?” She tipped the pot to refill his cup. Unfortunately, a moment or two passed before she realized the pot was empty.

  He pushed away his oatmeal bowl. “I’ll never bring it up again if you get me some fresh coffee.”

  Leah set the carafe down. “How exactly did you find out where I worked? I never mentioned it.” The mysterious man grew ever more so.

  He leaned forward and whispered, “I was very clever.” He glanced around to make sure no one was listening to them.

  Leah felt a ripple of nervous energy snake up her spine.

  “On my way to the barn, I read ‘The Diner, County Road 505, Winesburg, Ohio’ on the side of your boss’ pickup.” He laughed and returned to his newspaper.

  With cheeks aflame, Leah stormed into the kitchen. “World’s biggest ninny,” she muttered.

  “What was that?” April asked when the door swung closed.

  “I’m just talking to myself,” Leah said, beginning to load the dishwasher.

  “Since there’s a lull before the lunch rush, talk to me instead.” April set down her rolling pin.

  Leah put in the last plates and turned around, hoping her face wasn’t still cherry red. Am I about to be fired for my inflexibility?

  Her boss drew in a breath and appeared to be collecting thoughts. “Things are going much better than I dreamed they would. After that rocky first week, business picked up and has stayed brisk ever since. And I owe it all to you, Leah.”

  This wasn’t what she’d expected. After a moment’s pause, Leah said, “Folks love your cooking, April. It’s not just my pies they’re coming in for. Your French toast is lighter and fluffier than mine.”

  “Yes, the town was ripe for another eating establishment and my low prices bring in the locals, but many people come back because of you. A restaurant must be more than great food that is fairly priced. You must make people feel welcome and appreciated so they’ll stop in over and over. Your weather reports have become a major hit. That one elderly Englischer stops in all the time for coffee, pie, and to find out if it will rain.”

  Leah chuckled, grateful that April hadn’t mentioned the Amish fellows stopping in. Her daed would make her quit if he found out they came in to flirt. “I finally got the hang of this chitchatting thing.”

  “Yes, you have. We make a nice team together, sharing the chores equally. You’re not afraid to work hard, and that’s why I’m offering you a full partnership.”

  Not even a cube shifted in the automatic icemaker to break the silence.

  Then Leah gathered her wits so she wouldn’t stammer. “I don’t rightly know what to say, April. I’ve only worked here four weeks. You’ve invested your father’s money to get started. I can’t very well barge in after you’ve put your savings on the line.” As soon as the words were out, Leah realized April would know the full extent of her eavesdropping. But it was better she found out now.

  April didn’t bat an eyelash. “Yeah, my savings and a loan from Dad, but we could probably work something out if you’re interested in partnering with me.” She tucked her hands into her apron pockets.

  Interested in a partnership? In these adorable train cars I fell in love with four years ago? The restaurant where I can try out new pie recipes to my heart’s delight? Leah didn’t think about checking with her parents or sleeping on the decision or praying for the answer—something that had never failed her in the past. She nodded her head briskly. “Jah, I’m interested. I’d love to be your partner!”

  April clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful. We make such a great team together, Leah.” She poured two glasses of orange juice.

  “But what about the financial end? How’s that going to work? Don’t partners put up money or something? I heard my bruder say some Clevelander wanted to buy into Macintosh Farms, but Mr. Mac said ‘no thanks.’”

  April cocked her head. “Do you have money to invest, Leah? Do you want to buy in and do things right, legally speaking?”

  “Well, sure. I have money saved from selling pies to the auction cafeteria for the past four years. I don’t want people to think I’m some mooch, worming my way in.” She felt buoyed by the adult responsibility.

  “I don’t think anybody would think that about you. But just the same, it’s probably a good idea if you invest since I still need to pay the man for those picnic tables.” April handed her a juice glass. “I never thought this place would take off like it has. I’ll be able to pay my father back and you can replace your savings in no time at all. Let’s toast to our deal the way they do on TV.” She clinked Leah’s glass with hers and drank the juice down all at once. “To our partnership!”

  Leah had never seen anything like that on TV. The only show she had watched was a baseball game at Mrs. Lee’s until she had dozed off. But she smiled and drank down the juice. “To our partnership!” Leah repeated, hoping her savings would be sufficient. She had no idea what diner partnerships cost these days. “I have three thousand dollars, and I’m willing to invest twenty-five hundred,” she blurted out. “Is that enough?”

  April’s head bobbed backward. “You saved three thousand dollars from selling pies to the cafeteria?”

  “Jah, and to the grocery store at the street level.”

  “That will be a fine investment.” April put their glasses in the sink and then pulled a bowl of tuna salad from the refrigerator. “I’d better fix a few sandwiches since they’re the daily special.”

  “I’ll slice fruit for fruit salad. That always does well on hot days.” Leah turned her cleaver on a watermelon with fervor.

  “There’s one more thing,” April said, not taking her focus off the tuna salad.

  “What’s that?”

  “I decided during the drive in today to change the name of the place, providing you were interested in the partnership. The Diner sounds dreary, the more I thought about it.”

  Leah set down the knife. “Change it to what?”

  April grinned. “How about Leah’s Home Cooking? It has a wonderful ring to it. And since Amish people are flocking here to see you and partake of your wonderful pies, I thought it would be perfect!”

  Leah felt as though she might faint. Every girlhood dream was coming true. God was granting her grace she hadn’t even asked for. It was as if He knew her hopes and wishes, which of course He did. She blushed with embarrassment. “Don’t you think your husband and daed would prefer to see your name above the door? After all, it’s still your place and your idea. I came in as an afterthought.”

  “Not at all,” April said. “They want whatever will make this restaurant successful, and the new name is a giant step in that direction.”

  A tiny voice in Leah’s head cautioned Slow down. Don’t get too full of yourself.

  But she paid no attention to it. Leah’s Home Cooking danced through her head like a nursery rhyme as she sliced up a cantaloupe.

  “I’m going to order a new sign after closing. This is so exciting!” April squeezed her shoulders in an impromptu hug. “But now I better
check to see if any lunch customers have arrived. I thought I heard the bell above the door.”

  It was then that Leah remembered her last customer—reading his newspaper, awaiting more coffee. She nearly chopped off a finger. “I’ll check, April. I need to refill coffee carafes anyway.” She fled through the kitchen door at a run.

  But she was too late. The booth of the dark-haired man—the subject of porch swing chatter with Rachel—was empty. He’d left a neatly folded newspaper and a thirty-five-cent tip. Thirty-five cents…Leah didn’t think her service worthy of even that amount.

  She’d been a full partner for less than five minutes and she was already chasing customers away.

  April watched Leah climb up into her buggy, shake the reins over the horse’s back, and start for home. The girl hadn’t stopped smiling since the break between breakfast and lunch. She’d hummed a tune while scrubbing frying pans and whistled while mopping the floor—two chores that had seldom inspired song in the past.

  Switching the “Open” placard to “Closed” in the door, she pulled the phone book from under the counter. She would order the new sign before she lost her nerve. Her husband had warned her about adding anything else to their credit card, but hadn’t she promised her partner? Because every booth and stool at the counter was usually occupied, April was confident they would have plenty of profits to pay the bill. After all, it would be weeks before it came in the mail, and a couple more before the payment’s due date.

  She must stop worrying so much. This was her dream too, same as young Leah’s. One needed to take chances in life, especially to get ahead in this world. April called the sign-maker and ordered Leah’s Home Cooking with black lettering on a white background—and the man promised delivery by Independence Day. With a final check around the diner, April turned down the AC and switched off the lights. As she walked toward her truck, she noticed it was no longer the sole vehicle in the parking lot.

  “Mrs. Lambright,” a voice called and a man got out of his sedan.

  Her heart thudded against her chest wall as she recognized the landlord.

  “Mr. Jenkins, what brings you to Winesburg? We just closed for the day.”

  “I’m not here to eat. I’m here because I’ve left a couple messages on your answering machine and you’ve neglected to return my calls.” He slicked a hand through thinning hair in dire need of shampoo.

  “I’m sorry about that. My husband checks the machine and sometimes erases any messages he thinks are from solicitors.” April hiked her purse higher on her shoulder and shifted her weight to the other hip.

  Jenkins looked at the diner and around the yard. “How’s business?” he asked, his tone harsh and unfriendly.

  “We’re off to a good start. Of course, another train car would’ve been nice. We’re limited to the number of people we can serve for lunch.”

  He met her gaze with brown eyes almost hidden within the folds of surrounding skin. His face had the deep-set wrinkles of someone who never wore sunglasses. When he focused on the five wooden picnic tables, he frowned. “Those look brand new.”

  “They are. We needed more seating for overflow customers, at least during the nice weather months.”

  He pulled on his chin. “How is it, Mrs. Lambright, that you can afford five brand-new picnic tables but can’t afford to pay me the rent money on time? This property and those train cars are mine. You’re just renting them. You only own the business license.” He swatted at a bug on his neck.

  April’s spine stiffened. “We have a two-year lease with option to purchase. I’ve put my life savings into the restoration of those train cars. When you bought them, they were close to being unsalvageable.”

  “Everything is salvageable, at least to a scrap recycler. And the terms of our lease state that you make regular monthly payments. Not just send a check when you get the notion.” He scratched the spot of the bug bite.

  April decided a different tack was in order. “I apologize, Mr. Jenkins. I know we signed an agreement, and I fully intend to hold up my end. I just took on a partner, one with cash to invest. You’ll have my rent check in the mail by the weekend.”

  “I’d be happy to take that check right now and save you a stamp. Seeing that I made the trip from Akron and all.”

  She pulled her purse off her shoulder and rummaged around inside. “Oh, dear, it looks like I left my checkbook at home today. I hurried out in a rush.” She offered a tiny smile.

  “Mm-hmm,” he said without an ounce of conviction. He studied her for a moment before giving his chin one last pull. “I’ll expect that check by the weekend. And I’ve taken the liberty to tuck some pre-addressed envelopes under your wiper blades. I’d like you to use one each month and see that your payment reaches me on time.”

  He glared once more before turning and shuffling back to his car.

  April remained rooted until Whip Jenkins left, raising a cloud of dust. Then she marched to her pickup and plucked the stack of envelopes from the windshield. She tucked them inside her purse, along with bills from the butcher, the produce vendor, and the carpenter who had made the picnic tables.

  She needed to get home and check the answering machine herself tonight. But she wouldn’t let a visit from her impatient landlord dampen her spirits.

  Leah Miller had agreed to become her partner. She got along fine with that lovely young woman. Together they would turn the diner into a highly profitable enterprise.

  And she prayed for that all the way home.

  James Davis came to the dinner table that night not in the best of moods. The horse he bought for his buggy still remained balky, despite everything he’d tried. Riding a horse and driving a horse were two very different skills, and although he was accomplished with the former, the latter remained a total disaster. He’d had no success training any of the family’s Morgans or Arabians to pull the buggy, hence the purchase of the typical Amish standardbred. His luck had only marginally improved.

  “What’s for supper, fraa?” he called as he washed up for dinner.

  Emma met him in the mudroom with a cold drink and a warm smile. “I’ve reheated a pot of stew, steamed some broccoli, and tossed a salad of garden vegetables. I’ve been working my fingers to the bone.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’m faint with fatigue,” she teased with great drama.

  He pulled her into a hug. “Oh, that’s right. Mom’s working late at the hospital and men’s Bible study is tonight for Dad. Does that mean we have the house to ourselves—a quiet dinner for two?”

  “Not exactly,” she whispered, bobbing her head toward the doorway.

  “Hey, bro!” His brother Kevin called from the other room. “I’m back.”

  “Home from college already? Funny, you don’t look any smarter.” James walked into the kitchen and embraced his younger brother rather awkwardly.

  “Maybe the smart stuff comes next semester. But for now, finals are done and I’m a free man till August.” The two men sat down at the table while Emma carried over the stew and salad. After Kevin’s update on the travails of his previous semester, James filled him in on Hollyhock Farm news.

  “I didn’t see your truck in the yard. Where did you park?” James asked.

  “Around the side of the house under the willow. Didn’t want the sun to fade the paint or anything.” Kevin exchanged a look with Emma before ducking his head into the refrigerator. “Things look great around here,” he said. “Your conversion to New Order certainly hasn’t hurt productivity. If anything I think the place looks better.”

  “Staying home to help Dad run things has helped,” James agreed.

  “You mean not spending your time taking agricultural courses in Wooster?”

  “That, and the minor adjustment of not having a truck at my disposal. I get a lot more done.” He squeezed Emma’s hand affectionately.

  They bowed their heads to pray before the meal, and then Emma scooped stew into three bowls while James divided up the salad.


  “Your truck is running great, and I appreciate the bargain-basement price you sold it for.” Kevin began to eat heartily.

  “I wish I could say the same thing about the new buggy horse I bought. That standardbred is willful, stubborn, and not too smart. If that gelding were a car, we’d call it a lemon.”

  “I told you who would help you with that, Jamie,” said Emma. “But you’re letting your pride stand in the way.” She set her salad fork down.

  James’ mouth dropped open. It wasn’t like Emma to speak critically, especially not in front of people. He didn’t appreciate a dressing down in front of his brother.

  “I need to learn to control the horse myself, Emma. Your brother, as talented as he is, won’t make me a better handler.”

  “But that’s just it. He could teach you some of his tricks, show you his methods. He’s helped his friends before with balky horses—men born and raised Amish.”

  Kevin glanced up from his dinner. “Sounds like a good idea. At least it’s worth a try.”

  James pulled on his beard. “The problem is that Matt lives in Winesburg and I’m down here in Charm with a buggy for transportation.”

  “I’m not doing anything tonight. Why don’t I drive you up there? I haven’t seen your brother-in-law since your wedding.”

  Emma’s face lit up. Before James could reply, she asked, “Could we, Jamie? I’d love to show mamm some of the new wool shawls I’ve made on the loom. I created the pattern myself.”

  So it was decided. The three Davises finished supper, loaded the dishwasher—an appliance Emma rarely used—and headed to Winesburg, a thirty-minute trip by car. During the entire drive James tried to remember a Scripture his father used to quote when he got “too big for his britches.” But he couldn’t recall it and his annoyance with Emma grew like a seedling in the sun.

  Is this what happens when you get married? The wife who once thought you capable of just about anything starts picking at minor insufficiencies without a thought of who is listening? It wasn’t as though he didn’t know a thing or two about horses. Hollyhock Farm had bred, raised, and trained prize-winning show horses and provided countless people with quality riding mounts. Now his reputation was on the line because he bought the world’s surliest buggy horse? Fortunately, his brother kept up a steady stream of banter about the Ohio State football team so he didn’t have to engage in small talk.