Free The Letters by Suzanne Woods Fisher Page A

fuel. Delia stared at her. She had sprigs of bright red hair jutting up from her head like a firecracker in mid-explosion. “My name’s Lois.”
    Embarrassed, Delia swallowed back her tears. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had too much on my plate lately.”
    “Oh, I know how that can be. I surely do. About once a month, my Tony and me have to get out of the city and clear the cobwebs. We like to head over to Amish country and breathe some fresh air.” She picked up the squeegee and started to wash down Delia’s window, then squeegee the excess water off of it. Delia wondered if she might work here and if so, should she tip her? How much would be appropriate?
    “Just last month,” Lois continued, “we went to a wonderful new place in Stoney Ridge and met this darling Amish family and we just feel so renewed and refreshed. My Tony can’t stop talking about that Amish gal’s blueberry cornbread. We came home feeling like we’d gone to Hawaii. Good as new.” She finished cleaning the window as the gas nozzle clicked. “I’m telling you, sugar. A trip to Lancaster County cures what ails you.” She patted Delia’s arm and turned to go.
    Oh! So Lois was a customer. Delia stared at the gas nozzle as Lois’s words sunk in.
    Cured what ailed you? Renewed? Refreshed? Good as new? “Wait. Wait! Lois! Where did you say that Amish hotel was?”
    Lois was getting into her car but popped her head back up, over the roof of the car. “Town is called Stoney Ridge, east of Lancaster. Off Route 30. Head to Main Street, turn right at the Sweet Tooth Bakery, drive a mile or so, and you can’t miss it. Big white farmhouse with an even bigger red barn. A goat is in the front pasture and sticks his head over the fence.Tell that little innkeeper—Rose Schrock is her name—that Tony and Lois sent you. She’ll treat you right.” Lois climbed in the car, then popped her head back up again. “If you get lost, stop at the Sweet Tooth Bakery and ask where Rose lives. Be sure to get a cinnamon roll. Don’t miss that!” She waved goodbye and drove out of the gas station.
    Delia got back in her car and glanced at the clock. One thirty. She drove to the attorney’s office, parked under a shade tree, and took a moment to reapply her lipstick in the rearview mirror. Across the parking lot, she saw Charles’s BMW pull in. She decided to wait until he went inside so she wouldn’t appear slow moving as she got out of the car. If she moved too fast, she felt dizzy, or pinched by pain, or both. Delia saw Charles reach over and kiss someone, a passenger in the car, then he jumped out of the car and hurried to the passenger side to open the door for the woman. He was practically skipping, with a lilt in his step that she hadn’t seen in years. When had he last opened her car door? She couldn’t remember.
    Out of the car stepped Robyn Dixon. The other woman.
    Delia’s heart felt like a jackhammer. She watched the two of them head into the office building, laughing together over something. Delia leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, trying to gather her thoughts, to pull herself together. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go to that meeting. She felt as if she might hyperventilate or have a coronary episode or have a seizure. Or all three. She started the car, drove out of the parking lot, stopped by the bank and withdrew as much cash as the ATM would permit, then headed west on I-76 to Lancaster County.

6

    F or a few days, Rose and the children were all a-flurry, setting things right in the basement, turning it into a cozy place. With everyone helping, the basement began to look like a real home. Sammy and Luke tumbled in and out, underfoot, but every time they got near, Rose gave them a chore.
    Rose could hardly believe the transformation. It smelled different, looked different. She went around all the windowsills with a wet rag and then . . . it was ready for the first guest. Whenever, whoever, that might be. No one had