Susanna's Dream: The Lost Sisters of Pleasant Valley, Book Two by Marta Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

have a customer coming in to pick up a pillow she’d ordered made.”
    He handed down the baskets one at a time. “What does that have to do with baskets?”
    “It happens we know this particular customer loves baskets. These are new ones we’ve gotten in, and if I put them on the counter where I’ll be ringing up the pillow . . .”
    “You’ll likely make another sale.” He was interested in her sales technique in spite of himself. “That’s clever. Not sure it would work for my bulk goods, though.”
    She nodded, arranging the baskets along the counter. “Folks come to you for things they have to have, like food. Our customers are more likely to buy something for a gift or just because it appeals to them.”
    He was letting himself be distracted again from his purpose, but it was interesting. “You deal with more Englisch, I guess. Like the woman who was here this morning when Mamm took sick. She wasn’t a local, was she?”
    It was a casual question, and he wasn’t prepared for the response it got. Susanna paled, her eyes seeming to grow darker as he looked at her.
    “Chloe . . . Chloe recently moved in down the street.” She put her hand to her lips, as if to hide some emotion.
    Nate stood for a moment, frowning a little. Whatever troubled Susanna wasn’t his business. He should say what he’d come to say and get out.
    On the other hand, he knew how much his mother cared for her young partner. And Susanna looked so vulnerable that he couldn’t just ignore how upset she was.
    “Something troubles you about the woman,” he said carefully. A disgruntled customer? A shoplifter? “You may not want to talk about it, but if there’s a problem, I’ll help if I can.”
    For a moment he could see her struggling to hold back. Then she let out a shaky breath. “I guess I could stand to tell someone about it. I can’t trouble your mamm with it now, and there isn’t . . .”
    She let that die out, but he could guess the rest. Susanna was oddly isolated for an Amish woman, with no family nearby, no spouse, no girlhood friends to rely on.
    “Whatever it is, I can at least listen.” He leaned against the counter, waiting.
    “Denke.” She pressed her hand against her forehead. “It’s all so odd that I can’t quite believe it happened, let alone think what to do about it.”
    “The woman said something that upset you,” he prompted.
    “Ja. She said . . . She said she is my sister.”
    He stared at her, his mind refusing to process it. “She said you are her sister? Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand?”
    “I almost wish I had.” Susanna’s voice got a bit stronger, as if deciding to tell him had given her strength. “Her name is Chloe Wentworth. She moved here not long ago, and she’s writing some kind of paper about Amish crafts and the people who make them. Your mamm and I have helped her some, letting her take photos of our stock and introducing her to some of the people who make things for us.”
    “Ja, I remember Mamm mentioning something about it.” Mamm had seemed to like the woman, he’d thought.
    “Chloe said that she hadn’t known very long herself about it. That Lydia Beachy, from over in Pleasant Valley, is also our sister. That our real parents were killed in an accident when we were small, and we were split up and adopted by different families.”
    He frowned. “Is that the Beachy that has the apple orchard?”
    “Ja, Lydia and Adam Beachy. Do you know them?”
    “We get apples and cider from them for the store.” He frowned, trying to pin down a fragment of memory. “Seems to me I did hear something about an Englisch relative coming to visit them. But still, this seems like a fanciful story, coming out of the blue.”
    “Chloe said that they waited to tell me because my mamm was so sick.” Tears filled her eyes. “But now I can’t even ask her if it’s true.”
    “I’m sorry.” He patted her arm awkwardly, wanting to stem her tears and not sure