An Amish Arrangement. Jo Brown Ann

      “You can join us if you don’t mind leftover pizza.”

      “Leftover pizza sounds like manna from heaven.”

      Laughing, she said, “I didn’t order the manna topping. I hope you like pepperoni.”

      A slow smile spread over Jeremiah’s face, and her heart did a stutter step as his blue eyes shone like a cloudless summer sky. He’d been so serious during their previous discussions. Seeing him smile was like being confronted by a stranger.

      He is a stranger. A stranger who wants your farm. Telling her heart to behave itself because it’d been so wrong about Graham, she led the way into the kitchen. She’d be a fool to listen to her heart that had believed Graham loved her. Fortunately, she’d realized in time she always would have been a distant second in his affections after his mother.

      She’d learned her lesson. Or she should have. Maybe her brain had, but her heart had a lot to learn.

      Mercy used the time while she got the pizza out of the ancient refrigerator in the off-white kitchen and began warming it in the oven to regain her equilibrium. She must not be distracted by Jeremiah’s beguiling smile when the future of Come Along Farm was at stake. When she got cans of soda—a special treat for Sunni—from the fridge, she listened as Jeremiah tried to engage her daughter in conversation.

      Sunni was being cautious, either not replying or giving a single-word answer. It was a reminder, though Mercy didn’t need one, of how her daughter had been hurt by Graham’s decision to choose someone over them and walk away without a backward look. Too many people had done that to Sunni, and Mercy was determined her daughter wouldn’t feel abandoned again.

      They were finishing what was a very uncomfortable lunch when a knock came at the door. Mercy watched as the door opened and a woman stuck her head in.

      “Anyone home?”

      Mercy was on her feet as Jeremiah pushed back his chair. She saw him reach to assist Sunni and shook her head to halt him. Sunni needed to do everything as other kids did. If Jeremiah acted as if he thought Sunni couldn’t do something, it would make the little girl dislike him more.

      Jeremiah appeared taken aback, but drew aside his hands as Sunni pushed her chair out. When Mercy went to the door, he followed.

      “Hi, Kitty,” he said before introducing Mercy to his Realtor.

      Kitty Vasic was the picture of an elegant, successful businesswoman. She wore a business suit of the brightest pink Mercy had ever seen, and her shoes had spiked heels that must be five inches high. Mercy was fascinated, because she expected the Realtor to topple on each step.

      “Mr. Stoltzfus, how nice to meet you in person.” Kitty held out her hand and when he took it, she pumped his hand vigorously. “And you, too, Ms. Bamberger.”

      “Please call me Mercy,” she said at the same time Jeremiah was urging the Realtor to use his given name.

      Jeremiah added, “Plain folks don’t like to use titles.”

      “Oh, that’s good to know.” Kitty smiled. “With you Amish moving into southern Washington County, it’s important to learn how to be good neighbors. Don’t you agree?”

      Mercy considered saying she wasn’t Amish, but she didn’t want to delay hearing what the Realtor had to say. “We appreciate you coming so we can get this unfortunate situation resolved right away.”

      Kitty’s smile wavered. “Oh, dear! I’m sorry if I led you to believe this could be settled today.”

      “But I thought—” Jeremiah began.

      “Let’s talk, and I’ll tell you what I do know.” She grinned as Sunni appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Well, hello, young lady. You must be a Bamberger because I know Jeremiah doesn’t have children.”

      “Sunni,” Mercy said, “this would be a good time for you to finish the story we started last night.”

      The little girl glanced at Jeremiah’s and Kitty’s taut faces. Mercy guessed her own expression was as uneasy. With a nod, Sunni went into the dining room, where two overstuffed chairs were set by a fireplace that opened into the kitchen, as well. It needed to be swept because ashes had tumbled onto the floor. Something else for Mercy to add to her lengthy to-do list.

      Pushing aside her longing to go with her daughter and forget about these complications, Mercy squared her shoulders. “We can sit in the living room.”

      Behind her, the click-click-click of Kitty’s high heels marked her steps, but Jeremiah’s boot falls were surprisingly light for such a tall, muscular man. She shook those thoughts from her head. She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted.

      She sat in what had been her grandfather’s favorite chair by the wide window offering a view of the road through the bare branches of the maple trees. Waiting until the others chose chairs, she gazed at the green tiles on the large fireplace.

      “What can you tell us, Kitty?” she asked.

      “It’s unlikely the closing will go on as planned.” Kitty shot an apologetic look toward Jeremiah.

      His face went as blank as the wall behind him, and his gaze refused to meet hers. The pulse of sympathy surging through her was startling. If he closed on the property, her hopes for Come Along Farm would end. Yet, he had dreams for the property, too. Oh, how she wished there was a solution that could satisfy them both.

      When the Realtor spoke again, Mercy focused on her. “We’ll need to consult with an attorney,” Kitty said, “to determine what New York law says. I’ve got to admit it’s the first time I’ve been involved with a property transfer where one party died before closing. Mercy, I should have said this before. I’m sorry for your loss.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Your grandfather was well respected and well liked. I can’t tell you how many times I enjoyed a cup of coffee with him at the Village Diner.”

      “Did he mention why he decided to sell?” She regretted the question. Talking about private matters when Jeremiah sat a couple of feet away was unsettling.

      Kitty reached over and patted her arm. “He was selling it for you and your daughter.”

      “For us? But he promised...” This time she halted herself before she said too much.

      “I don’t know what he told you, Mercy, but Rudy mentioned that he wanted you to have a majority of the money. He hoped you’d build a nice home so you’d be close to his assisted-living apartment. He spoke often about you and your daughter and how he looked forward to spending more time with you.”

      “Why didn’t he tell me this?”

      Kitty shook her head sadly. “That’s something I can’t answer. I’m as perplexed as you are. I’m sure he had his reasons, but he never mentioned them to me or Darren.” Her eyes narrowed. “Have you spoken with Darren?”

      “I called him this morning. He said to tell you to call him.”

      “I see.” Her lips tightened into a straight line, an expression that said as loudly as a shout she was annoyed. “We should wait on discussing this further until Darren can be here, too, to represent Rudy’s estate.”

      “But do you think the contract is valid?” Jeremiah asked.

      “We should wait—”

      “I think Mercy is as anxious as I am to hear your opinion. I understand we can’t make decisions without Darren’s input, but is the contract valid?”

      “From what I’ve read, the answer is yes and no. In some states, the contract would be invalid upon the death of either party.” She glanced from Mercy to him. “But we have leeway in New York. If the heir or heirs are willing, the contract can be completed. However, that is my opinion from a quick read on the internet. Until we have an opinion from an attorney,