Free Suspendered Sentence (An Amish Mystery) by Laura Bradford Page A

oven and, this time, transferred the roasted chicken to the now-empty counter. “I spoke of this the other day, at the shop.”
    But I hadn’t read Elizabeth’s journal then . . .
    She shook off the troubling thought and did her best to lighten her tone. “That’s right, you did. So what is she like? This Miriam?”
    Esther poked at the chicken a few times before deeming it done. “Miriam is quiet. I believe that is because she has five boys. Mamm said it happened before that, after her Rumspringa.”
    “She wasn’t quiet as a young girl?”
    “I only know what Mamm said.”
    Intrigued, Claire made a mental note to speak with Jakob’s sister, Martha, before moving on to the next name she remembered from Elizabeth’s journal. “How about a Leroy?”
    With careful hands, Esther carved the roast, each slice making its way onto a waiting plate. “Leroy is married to Bishop Hershberger’s oldest daughter. They, too, have five children, but Eva is to have her sixth soon.”
    The front door swung open, admitting Eli into the house, his purposeful footsteps prompting Esther to cut faster. He made short work of the front room and joined them in the kitchen. “Are you speaking of Beiler?”
    Esther turned and smiled at her husband, the love she had for the man intensifying her normal glow. “Yah.”
    “I would imagine it must have been hard to court the bishop’s daughter,” Claire mused. “Do you know if it was?”
    Eli shrugged and took his place at the end of the table, smiling up at his wife as she placed the plate of meat in front of his spot and then returned to the stove for the covered pot. “I cannot say. But there would be no room for angry outbursts like I once had.”
    Esther returned to the table again, the now-uncovered pot revealing homemade mashed potatoes. “You were not ready to marry then, Eli.”
    “I was, I just did not stop to think how my anger could hurt you. But I have learned from my mistakes.”
    “How about Michael?” Claire asked as she accepted the potatoes from Esther and spooned a small helping onto her plate. “Do you happen to know someone with the first name of Michael?”
    “I know of no Michael,” Eli replied before bowing his head in time with his wife. “It is time to pray.”

Chapter 8

    T here was something therapeutic about waiting for dough to rise and then punching it back down to its original size. It had a way of relieving stress while simultaneously making you feel as if you were accomplishing something—two things she was in dire need of that morning as she kept one eye on Diane’s recipe card and the other on the clock above the sink.
    “The table is all set. The guests will be down in about thirty minutes,” Diane said as she breezed into the kitchen from the dining room. “How are those donuts coming along?”
    “I’m getting ready to roll and cut the dough now. Then, they need about twenty minutes to rise one more time before I drop them into the deep fryer.” She pointed at the white mixing bowl to her right, the spoon she’d used for mixing still inside. “The maple glaze is all ready to go the second they come out of the fryer.”
    “Perfect. I was telling the Finnegans about Amish donuts when they checked in yesterday and I thought it would be a nice surprise to serve some with breakfast this morning.” Diane opened the refrigerator and pulled out a dozen eggs and a carton of milk in preparation for the scrambled eggs on the morning menu. “We missed you last night. Did you have fun?”
    She couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful tone Diane didn’t even try to hide. “I did. Very much. But I wasn’t with Jakob . . . in case you were wondering.”
    Diane crossed to the stove and the waiting skillet. “I wasn’t.”
    Securing a knife from the utility drawer beneath the center island’s countertop, Claire began a silent count to ten, her aunt’s anticipated next question coming before she even got to three. “So who were you