Free Plain Murder by Emma Miller Page A

high-end zebra-striped bag, presumably to match her bra.
    Dealing with Ms. Hess this morning was almost comic relief after the previous day and the sleepless night Rachel had had. She’d wanted to go to her aunt’s this morning, but she knew that the police must still be holding her uncle, as she hadn’t heard otherwise from Evan. If she left Stone Mill House before seeing to her guests, Ada might make good on her threats and quit. And if Ada quit, Minnie and the other girls would go with her. Then where would she be? Without staff, that’s where. Without altering her uncle’s fate one iota.
    â€œSo leave the price on,” Ms. Baird suggested to her sister. “Aunt Dot will be impressed. A pity you didn’t snap a picture of the Aim -ish girl yesterday, the one she”—Ms. Baird pointed at Rachel—“said made it. It would have made the gift more special. You know, with the Aim -ish woman holding the blanket.”
    â€œRachel!” Ada called from the kitchen. “Minnie’s not here and . . .”
    Rachel couldn’t hear the rest of it, but she did see her one remaining guest, Father Young, coming down the stairs. “I think I just need to pop into the dining room for a moment,” Rachel said to the two women. “Feel free to look around.”
    â€œNo,” Ms. Hess said. “We want to be in Lancaster for lunch. I’ll take the blanket. You accept credit cards, don’t you?”
    Rachel motioned to the sign. “MasterCard and Visa.”
    â€œNot American Express? That’s inconvenient,” Ms. Hess grumbled, but she produced a suitable credit card.
    By the time Rachel had rung up the quilt and wrapped it, Ms. Baird had picked out three jars of Ada’s jam, a copper tray, an antique butter dish, and an original eight-by-ten watercolor of a one-room schoolhouse with a stream of children in the foreground. The figures were small and all painted from the back so that no faces were revealed.
    â€œYou want all of these?” Rachel asked, stunned. Apparently, she did. Ms. Baird paid in cash without a quibble over the prices.
    Rachel waved as they hurried out the front door, overnight cases in hand. She couldn’t believe that she’d just sold Mary Aaron’s quilt and a painting at the same time. Mary Aaron would be ecstatic about the quilt. This was her first big sale, and it made the months of work worthwhile, something a lot of the Amish hadn’t expected.
    â€œUse the sewing machine,” Aunt Hannah had advised. “It’s faster. The stitches are more even, and the Englishers won’t know the difference. No one makes quilts the old way anymore.”
    But Mary Aaron did make it the old way, and it had paid off handsomely. And best of all, this sale might influence other women to emulate her. Even among the Amish, skills were being lost as the old people died. Maintaining centuries-old artistry was vital to their community and their faith. Few large families could survive on farming alone in these difficult economic times, and people all over the country were coming to appreciate Amish artistry. Women, married or unmarried, didn’t have to choose between picking apples, working behind the counter at a fruit stand, or cleaning other people’s houses. Thanks to the Stone Mill Heirloom Arts website, the possibilities for real alternatives were unlimited.
    But Rachel didn’t have time to savor this small success. Father Young would want his breakfast. With Minnie not there, Rachel would need to see to her guest personally. Ada cooked, but she didn’t serve. And she spoke only Deitsch to the visitors, pretending that she didn’t understand English. If she hadn’t been such a miracle worker in the kitchen, Rachel might have rethought her decision to hire Ada in the first place.
    Father Young was both pleasant and hungry. He drank most of a pot of coffee and devoured scones, strawberries,