Books by Amanda Flower

  The Amish Candy Shop Mystery series

  Assaulted Caramel

  Lethal Licorice

  Premeditated Peppermint

  Criminally Cocoa (ebook novella)

  Toxic Toffee

  Botched Butterscotch (ebook novella)

  Marshmallow Malice

  Candy Cane Crime (ebook novella)

  Lemon Drop Dead

  The Amish Matchmaker Mystery series

  Matchmaking Can Be Murder

  Courting Can Be Killer

  Marriage Can Be Mischief

  MARRIAGE CAN BE MISCHIEF

  Amanda Flower

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  Teaser chapter

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2021 by Amanda Flower

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-2405-2

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2406-9 (ebook)

  For Kim, Ken, Gunnar, and Norah

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you always to my readers who welcome a trip back to the Amish and Englisch world in Harvest, Ohio. The Amish Matchmaker mysteries and Amish Candy Shop mysteries would not be possible without your love of the books.

  Thanks always to my super-agent, Nicole Resciniti, who makes all the books possible. You have been guiding my career for a decade now, and I’m just as grateful for all you do as I was on day one. Thanks too to my amazing editor Alicia Condon and the great team at Kensington. You are the best of the best in publishing.

  Thanks to my husband, David Seymour, for his support and love while I struggle with each and every deadline and for his surprise food deliveries on tough writing days.

  Thanks too to Kimra Bell for her help on this manuscript.

  Thanks to my dear friends Delia and Suzy, who supported me during the writing of this book while I planned (and re-planned due to the pandemic) my wedding.

  Finally, thank you God in heaven for friendship. This series is really about the lifelong friendship between Millie Fisher and Lois Henry. I have friends just like them, and I pray when we are Millie’s and Lois’s age, we have just the same amount of spunk.

  A house is made of walls and beams;

  a home is made of love and dreams.

  —Amish Proverb

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lois Henry pulled at her multicolored geometric print blouse. “It’s so hot this evening, I feel like I’m baking bread in my shirt. When is this concert over? Is it running long? Or is that just me because I’m perspiring like Jethro the pig in the noonday sun?” She fanned her red face with the concert program.

  Lois and I sat side by side in lawn chairs on the Harvest village square just before twilight. Around us, other villagers both Englisch and Amish shifted in their own seats as the middle school band concert dragged on. I felt the hair on the back of my neck curl from the humidity that at last report was at sixty percent, making the warm night air feel that much hotter. It was one of those few times that I saw the benefit of Lois’s air-conditioned house and car.

  The businesses that encircled the square—the candy shop, cheese shop, and pretzel shop—had long been closed for the night. The only business still open was the Sunbeam Café, which was trying to take advantage of the Harvest concert series for a few extra sales. The large white church next to the café glowed in the sunset, looking more like a painting of a church than the real thing.

  I patted away the dew on my forehead. “Pigs don’t actually sweat,” I said. “That’s why they wallow in mud and water on hot days to cool down.”

  “I didn’t say it for an animal husbandry lesson,” Lois said. “Did you see what this humidity is doing to my hair?”

  I turned in my lawn chair to have a better look at her. The chair, which Lois had purchased at the local flea market, was far from sturdy. In fact, I had a feeling it might break apart any second. I stopped twisting.

  Lois’s typically upright red-and-purple spiky hair drooped to the left side of her head. I didn’t say it, but it reminded me of a grassy field that had been bent over by the wind. “Your hair looks different from usual.” I felt this was the nicest way to put it.

  “It’s going to take me an hour to set my hair again after tonight. People really don’t know how hard it is to look like this.” She picked at her hair with her long purple fingernails, but it did little to put her hair upright again.

  I certainly didn’t know how hard it was. Lois’s appearance and mine could not be more different from each other. Although we were the same age, nearing the end of our sixties, and had grown up on the same county road, our upbringing had been very different. I grew up Amish, and Lois grew up Englisch. Even so, we had been the best of friends as girls and remained the best of friends to this very day.

  However, I knew to many people we appeared to be an odd pair. I wore plain dress, sensible black tennis shoes, and a prayer cap. My long white hair was tied back in an Amish bun. Lois wore brightly colored clothes, chunky costume jewelry, heavy makeup, and had that striking haircut.

  She leaned across the arm of her chair, and the seat made a dangerous creaking sound. “Did I sweat my eyebrows off?”

  I shook my head. “Nee, they’re still there.” I did not add that they were looking a tad more wobbly than usual. It was certainly due to the trickle of sweat running down the side of her forehead. I had to agree with Lois: It was a hot night, and the concert should have been over an hour ago. We weren’t the only ones who thought it had gone on too long—several couples and families had gotten up and left.

  Lois shifted her folding lawn chair, and I found myself wincing with every creak and rattle the chair made. I didn’t want her to be hurt if it broke. Even though we were sitting on the grass square in the middle of the village of Harvest, anytime you fall at our age, it can leave a mark.

  “Careful, Lois, that chair is not as sturdy as you think it is,” I warned.

  She bounced up and down in the chair. “Don’t be silly. It’s as sturdy as they come. They don’t make chairs like this anymore.” With her final bounce, there was a loud crack, and Lois and the chair went down.

  I jumped out of my seat. “Lois, are you all right?”

  The children playing in the band froze and stopped playing. The leader held his hands suspended in the air. Lois waved from the grass. “Keep playing. I’m fine.”

  Several people from nearby blankets and chairs ran over to us. Two Englisch men helped Lois to her feet.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  “Nothing more than a bruised ego, and that stopped bothering me twenty years ago.” She smiled. “If I became upset every time I fell over, I would be in a perpetual state of nerves.” She smiled at everyone who’d rushed over to help. “Thank you, you’re all too kind. Now, hurry back to your seats, so the concert can continue.”

  After they were out of earshot, Lois said, “Because we need to move this concert along. It’s going on forever.” She rubbed the side of her leg. “I spoke too soon about not being hurt.”

  “What’s wrong? Should we find a
doctor or nurse?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing as serious as all that. I just banged up my knee.”

  “Let me at least get you some ice for it, and here—” I moved my chair next to her. “Sit in this until I get back.”

  My chair was as unstable as hers had been, but it had to be better than her standing if her knee was bothering her. “Stay there. I will find the ice.”

  She rubbed her knee. “We can only hope by the time you return, this concert will be over,” she whispered. Well, mostly whispered, but luckily the band had resumed playing, making it hard to hear much of anything over the cymbals and drums. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  “All right,” I said. “Please, stay there, and I will find some ice.”

  On the far side of the square there was a small concessions booth. I thought I would start there. If I didn’t have any luck, then I would run across the street to the Sunbeam Café and grab a cup of ice from Lois’s granddaughter, Darcy Woodin. I didn’t want to scare Darcy until I knew how badly Lois was hurt.

  “Excuse me,” I said to the man waiting in line. “Can I just ask for some ice? My friend fell out of her chair and bumped her knee.”

  The Englischer stepped aside. “I saw her go down. It looked like a nasty tumble.”

  The girl inside the food trailer handed me a cup of ice and a fistful of paper towels.

  I smiled at her. “Danki, this is so kind of you.”

  “I’d hurry back to your friend, if I were you. Margot Rawlings is headed this way, and she’s staring right at you.”

  I looked over my shoulder and found that she was right. I thanked her again.

  “Millie Fisher, can I have a word with you?” Margot called.

  I sighed and stopped in the middle of the grass. Margot walked up to me and put her hands on her hips. Margot was an Englisch woman who was just a few years younger than me. I had known her most of my life. Although she was Englisch like Lois, their appearances were very different. Margot wore her hair short like Lois, but it was a pile of soft curls, which she had a habit of patting and pulling when she was frustrated. She also had a much simpler wardrobe of jeans and plain T-shirts. She was a no-nonsense woman who was doing everything within her power to make sure that Harvest, Ohio, became the number one tourist destination in Amish Country.

  The concert tonight was one of her events. Throughout the summer she had been hosting a concert on the village square every Friday evening from seven to eight. It was almost nine now. The concert had certainly outlasted its allotted time. I had heard from Lois that Margot thought these concerts would bring people back into the village in the evenings. Typically, everything in Harvest closed at five or six, even in the summer. The concerts were popular, and tonight’s had had a nice crowd before the performance ran a little too long.

  Margot tapped her sneaker-clad foot in the grass. “What is this I hear about Lois Henry falling out of her chair?”

  I held up the cup of ice. “She’s not seriously hurt. We’re taking care of it.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Lois found the chairs we’re using at the flea market for what she calls ‘a steal.’ I think they were past their prime when she got them. I’m very careful when I sit on them and try not to breathe.”

  Margot shook her head and her curls hopped in place. I would never say it to her, but her signature curls always reminded me a little bit of tiny baby bunnies skipping up and down on the top of her head. I didn’t think it was a comparison she’d appreciate.

  “Lois and her flea-market finds. Her house is just one big warehouse. You can barely walk through the living room, it’s so jam-packed with her yard-sale and flea-market finds. She needs to purge some of those pieces.”

  I made no comment because Lois was my friend, but at the same time, I agreed with Margot. Lois had an addiction to shopping and shopping for furniture in particular. She loved to collect interesting pieces, but she really didn’t have anywhere to put them in her two-bedroom rental house on the edge of downtown. She lived alone and her collection wasn’t hurting anyone; it made her happy, so who was I to offer criticism? It wasn’t like she was a hoarder. Lois was a collector.

  And she was one of the most giving people I knew. If someone needed a piece of furniture, she wouldn’t think twice about giving it to a friend, no matter what it cost her to buy it.

  Margot looked over her shoulder at Lois. “It’s not the village’s fault she bought a rickety chair. I hope she doesn’t think she can file a complaint.”

  “I don’t believe she’s planning to do that.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And if you are so concerned about Lois, why not go speak to her? She’s sitting right over there. This ice is for her, and it’s melting quickly in the heat.”

  Margot seemed to think about my suggestion for a moment. “Well, I’m glad she’s all right. I’ll check on Lois later. You know when there is an event on the square I’m very busy. I always have to run from one thing to the next.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep myself from saying something I would regret. I still thought she should ask Lois how Lois was doing.

  “But I am glad I caught you alone. I very much wanted a word with you in private.”

  I shook the ice in the cup and listened for the rattle. At Margot’s raised brow, I steadied my hand. I wasn’t shaking the ice to wave her off. I only wanted to know that it had not completely melted away. I had no idea why Margot would wish to speak to me alone. As an Amish person, I could not be on any of her village committees, and I did not have a business or service that would lend itself to events on the square. I was a quilter by trade and a matchmaker by avocation. I subsisted on my small income from selling quilts to local shops and from special orders, and I helped the young Amish men and women in the county to find their matches at no cost. I have had this gift since I was a small child. I knew in my heart when two people were right for each other. I also knew when two people were wrong for each other.

  I didn’t charge for the matchmaking because it was a gift from Gott. It was not meant to be a business venture but an adventure in true love.

  “What can I help you with, Margot?” I asked in the friendliest manner I could manage. Because if Margot was asking you something, most likely she wanted you to do something for her. She always did.

  “When was the last time you saw Uriah Schrock?” Margot asked in her businesslike way.

  “Uriah?” I asked. That was not what I’d expected her to ask at all.

  I knew Uriah, of course. We had gone to the same Amish schoolhouse as children, and when we were young, he had been sweet on me. But that made no difference to my feelings. I’d only had eyes for Kip Fisher. Kip and I were married young and had twenty wonderful years together, but then he passed away from cancer when he was in his forties.

  Today, Uriah was the groundskeeper of the village square, and that made Margot his boss. If anyone should know where he was, it was she. It made me very curious as to why she was asking me where her employee was. Shouldn’t she be the one who knew his whereabouts?

  “Uriah was supposed to be here today to set up for the concert as usual.” Margot tugged on her curls. “But he never showed up. I called the shed phone at the farm where he’s been renting a room, and there was no answer.”

  My stomach dropped. That wasn’t like Uriah at all. He was typically a very responsible man. He would not ignore his work.

  “I just wondered if he said anything to you about going back to Indiana. I know the two of you are special friends.” She narrowed her eyes at me when she said that last part.