She was here in Florida with Rowan. She didn’t know why, but she was. And the first thing she had to do was prove Georgia wrong. She could play her part without everyone knowing her heart was breaking in two. She was an actress, after all.

  Taking a deep breath, Alicia squared her shoulders.

  Georgia pulled back. “Good girl. That’s the way to tuck all those emotions away. Are you hungry?”

  “What do we have?”

  “Craft services set up a table. There’s some yogurt, granola, and juice. Or”—Georgia’s eyes sparkled—“I picked up some whole wheat oatmeal bread and strawberry jam from a neighbor. Both are homemade.”

  “From a neighbor? How did that happen? Did you already go visiting up and down the street?” Alicia chuckled, hoping it sounded convincing. “To research Amish dresses, I’m sure.”

  “No. There’s actually a place a few houses down with a sign in the yard that reads Amish Baked Goods for Sale.” Georgia placed a hand on her hip and stuck it out. “I didn’t get this figure by passing up baked goods.”

  “I’ll have the bread and jam, please.”

  Like two girls sneaking into a candy jar, Georgia led Alicia to a corner of the wardrobe room where a tote bag sat. She pulled out the bread, still warm, and a jar of jam.

  “I don’t have a knife, but they gave me a plastic spoon for the jam.”

  Alicia picked up the bread. “Who needs a knife?”

  She unwrapped the bread from the wax paper and pulled off a thick chunk. The aroma rose, filling her nostrils. She breathed it in. Few things were more wonderful than the scent of fresh-baked bread.

  She pointed to the jar of jam. “Do you mind?”

  Georgia waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

  Alicia picked up the jar and opened the lid with one twist. She placed it on the table and then spooned jam into the soft center of the bread.

  Closing her eyes, she took a big bite. The yeastiness of the bread mixed with the fresh strawberry taste of the jam exploded on her taste buds. “Oh my goodness. You have to taste this.” The click of a photo being taken caused her to open her eyes, and when she did she saw it wasn’t Georgia who’d snapped the shot. Rowan stood there, dark-haired and handsome, holding his cell phone in his hand. There was a mix of tenderness and humor in his gaze.

  He chuckled as he glanced down at the shot he’d taken. “You should see yourself. A true Amish beauty indeed.”

  “No, Rowan, please.” She extended her jam-covered fingers toward him. “I’m not wearing a stitch of makeup.”

  He pulled his cell phone closer, out of her reach, and typed in something with his thumbs.

  Alicia finished chewing and then took a step toward him. One hand held her bread, and she stretched out the other even closer. She pointed to his phone. “You’re not posting that—”

  “Oh yes. Yes I am.”

  “Seriously, Rowan. I look so plain.”

  He glanced up, and his eyes twinkled. “Which is how you’re supposed to look during filming.”

  “No.” She jutted out her chin. “No, during filming I’ll only look like I don’t have makeup on. But my blemishes, my—”

  “Tsk-tsk, I don’t want to hear it.” He put up a palm, blocking her words. “You know your adoring fans want a glimpse of what you’re working on next.”

  “Rowan, please!”

  He pretended not to hear her and pushed Send. Then he tucked his phone into his front jeans pocket.

  Georgia glanced at her watch. “It’s 7:35. My guess is 8:07.”

  “8:07? What do you mean? What are you talking about?” Alicia took another bite of her bread, pretending her insides weren’t fluttering with Rowan’s closeness. Pretending she was shocked by his actions, when she was really pleased with the attention.

  Georgia shrugged. “Oh, it’s my guess for how long it’ll take before you make the home page of People.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Alicia mumbled between bites of bread. Just then her phone pinged on the table next to her.

  Rowan reached for her phone. “I recognize the sound of that notification. I’m honored that you still keep track of me.”

  Alicia shrugged. “I just haven’t turned it off.” Should she tell him she still had his unique ringtone, and their last vacation photo was still her wallpaper?

  “In over a year you haven’t turned off the notifications for my Twitter posts?”

  She shrugged again. And unlocked her phone. She opened his tweet, and her face popped up. Well, at least part of her face. Half of it was hiding behind the large chunk of bread.

  In Pinecraft. Filming starting soon. #Amishbeauty

  Heat rose to Alicia’s face, and she returned her phone to the table. “I can’t believe you’re making me wear this bonnet,” she mumbled. “And I can’t believe that hashtag. People are going to take that the wrong—”

  “And I can’t believe you haven’t offered me any of that,” Rowan interrupted. He tore off a chunk of bread.

  Alicia didn’t know what to say, what to do. Georgia made some excuse about checking on a delivery and left. As they chewed their bread in silence, Alicia pretended things were as they used to be. For a moment she forgot she was wearing an Amish dress and kapp. She just wanted to enjoy the quiet moment with Rowan by her side. She wanted to forget the ache and loneliness of the last year, and enjoy what it felt like to listen to his laugh, to see his smile.

  Whole Wheat Oatmeal Bread

  4 cups quick oats

  1 cup brown sugar or honey

  ½ cup butter

  4 tablespoons salt

  3 packets yeast

  18 to 20 cups bread flour

  In a large bowl, mix together the oats, sugar, butter, and salt. Add yeast to 8 cups boiling water and mix into batter; add 18 to 20 cups bread flour. Cover bowl with a towel and put in a warm place. Let rise until double in size and punch down. Let rise a second time until double in size and punch down. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Divide dough into 6 or 7 pieces. Place in greased loaf pans. Bake until tops are nice and brown. Makes 6 or 7 loaves.

  Thirteen

  A house is made of walls and beams; a home is made of love and dreams.

  AMISH PROVERB

  A knock at the door announced a visitor. Joy stopped her foot on the sewing machine pedal and set the dish towel to the side. She’d come up with a unique design for Lovina to sell at her pie shop not long after Me, Myself, and Pie opened. She started by making aprons, and it was Grace who’d suggested the towels. Joy sewed a strip of fabric with a quilted pattern on the bottom seam and added rickrack edging. Over the last ten months she’d lost track of how many she’d made.

  She hurried to the front door, expecting her cousins. Instead Matthew stood there, hat in hand. His wide eyes were hopeful. “Joy, I was hoping you were still up. I saw the light on, and when I neared the door I heard the whir of the sewing machine.”

  “Ja, I’m up. Just trying to fill an order.” She stepped to the side and waved him in. “Lovina is a slave driver.” She smiled, releasing a breath. Thankful to see his smile. The last look she’d seen on his face was one of anger, anger over her interaction with the Englischers. She didn’t have to worry about that anymore though, because she’d determined to stay as far away from those Englischers and their television show as possible.

  Matthew eyed Joy’s face, her hair. “You certain it’s okay for me to come in?”

  “Ja, Mem, Dat, and Faith have already retired for the night, but I was waiting up for Lovina. She’s working late tonight…which really means she’s enjoying a piece of pie with Noah after the shop is closed for the evening.”

  He stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and followed her into the kitchen. Then he paused and gazed at her hair again. “Honey-brown hair,” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Last night, when I was thinking about the color of your hair, I couldn’t quite remember. At first I thought golden brown, but that didn’t seem quite right. Honey brown…ja, that suits you better.”

  She motioned to the table and they sat down. “Speaking of honey, how about something sweet?”

  She pulled a plate from a cupboard, opened the storage container on the counter, and took out two lemon bars. She set the plate before him and then scooped two forks out of a drawer. She couldn’t hide her smile as she sat down. With three bites Matthew’s lemon bar was gone. Joy picked up her fork, but her stomach was flipping around, and she couldn’t take a bite. Instead, she returned her fork to the table, thankful he’d stopped by.

  Under Matthew’s gaze, Joy captured one of her kapp strings and twisted it around her finger. She felt his eyes on her, deep down in her core.

  Heat rose to her cheeks, and she resisted the urge to fan her face. She glanced away, unsure what to do or say.

  He chuckled. “I like that I can see what you’re feeling just by looking at your face.”

  “You do?”

  “Ja, and your name suits you well. It always seems as if you’re smiling. Well, except for the other day.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Joy. I didn’t mean to get so angry.”

  “I understand. I—”

  “Ne.” He held up his hand. “Don’t forgive me so easily. It’s not right. It’s just that there were so many people, and it seemed like everyone was looking at us. And…well, when that Englischer came up, they all saw that too. I was more confused than anything.”

  Joy nodded as if she understood, but she really didn’t. It’s not as if she got the attention of the Englischer, desiring to talk to him. It’s not as if she knew him or had expected him to approach her.

  “Ja. I suppose those Englischers are just used to the attention. Being in television and all.”

  Matthew nodded, and then seeing that she wasn’t eating her lemon bar, picked up his fork again.

  “Go ahead,” she said with a chuckle.

  He ate that one in three bites too and then accepted the glass of water she offered.

  “So do you think you can meet me for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. “We’ll be starting a new job, and I don’t have to be there until after ten.”

  “I’d love—” She stopped the flow of words spilling out. “Oh ne.”

  “What?”

  “I have to make a delivery tomorrow morning. Six Amish quilts before eight o’clock. I don’t think it’ll take much time for me to drop them off, but I wouldn’t want to tell you I’ll be there and then not show up.”

  “Someone ordered six quilts?”

  “Ja, they…or rather she did. This lady walked into the fabric store and pointed out the quilts she wanted. The price didn’t even seem to be a concern.”

  “And she’s staying around here?”

  “Ja. She wrote down the address for me. I remember it being around Pinecraft, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.”

  “It’s not for that television show, is it? Because if you’d like me to go with you…”

  A tension built in her chest. Was it for the television show? She didn’t think so. Joy bit her lower lip. But what if it was? I’d better handle this errand on my own.

  “How about this…Why don’t I make the delivery and then stop by your house? I want to drop off a dish towel for your mem. A birthday present of sorts. My delivery shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Ja, that’s a gut idea. I suppose I should be around for Mem’s birthday breakfast, and she would love to have you there for it too. She cooks one for herself every year, and Dat always surprises her with flowers.”

  “If he always does it, is it really a surprise?”

  “He likes to think so.”

  “Well, if you’re sure neither of them would mind me being there, I wouldn’t want to miss seeing her act!”

  Their laughter merged and danced around the table.

  “Speaking of her birthday, I know she’ll love the recipe box. I also talked to Lovina about it, and she would love to have some for the store. Do you think you could make twenty?”

  “Twenty!” He choked out the word.

  “Ja. Is that too many?”

  “Well, if I didn’t have a full-time job…” He let his voice trail off, almost with a wistful tone.

  “Maybe you should try woodworking as a job. Once Mose is up on his feet again, I bet he’ll appreciate extra work. Not to tell you what to do…”

  “Telling me what to do? I don’t see it that way. It’s more like believing in me.” He smiled. “You always surprise me, Joy. I was afraid to share my dreams with you—dreams of doing more in my workshop.”

  “Well, one thing is for certain—we like to dream around our home. With Lovina’s pie shop and Hope’s garden…all sorts of dreams are coming to light.”

  “And what about you?” Matthew leaned closer, reaching his hand across the table. His palm was open to her. Seeing that, she knew his heart was too. “What do you dream about most?”

  Joy placed her hand in his, allowing her small hand to be engulfed in his larger one. “I’ve never been one to have big, fancy dreams. I never wanted to open a shop or create something big. I do enjoy sewing, but mostly”—she squeezed his hand—“all I’ve wanted is this. Just knowing I have someone to care for and knowing he cares for me back.”

  “It’s grown into much more than care, and you know it.” Emotion seemed to tighten Matthew’s throat, and his voice grew deep. “Before now, before this, I didn’t put too much planning into the future. I sort of allowed things to happen as they did, knowing the gut Lord has us under His watchful eye. But lately, well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot more too. And I wouldn’t mind if each night ended like this, with us talking and…” He stood and leaned over the table more, and Joy leaned forward too, anticipating a kiss. But just as their lips touched, footsteps sounded on the back porch. Without hesitation they both fell back into their seats. Joy’s heartbeat quickened, both from the kiss and the thought of being caught. Matthew’s eyes widened and Joy’s hand covered her face, attempting to hold back a giggle.

  “Oops,” he whispered.

  The door opened, and Lovina walked in. She waved at Matthew and then pointed to the crumbs on the plate in front of him. “Oh, did you make lemon bars, Joy? I was craving them all day, and when you crave lemon bars, pie just doesn’t fix it.”

  She hurried to the counter and opened the container, pulling out one bar. After taking a bite she eyed them. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?” One of her eyebrows rose.

  “Not too much, and…I did tell Matthew that you like the idea of recipe boxes.”

  Lovina nodded. “Oh, and cookbook racks too. I was going to mention that. I’ve been asked if we carry them many times. You know, just simple wooden racks to hold someone’s cookbook off the counter.” She shrugged and turned to the sink to wash her hands. “I don’t know why, but they’d sell well. Personally, I know where the best recipes are in a book by the amount of dried food on their pages.”

  Matthew squeezed Joy’s hand, and her lips pressed into a tight smile. Yes, many more nights like this without having to worry about family members coming in and out and interrupting their kisses. But until then Joy would enjoy every moment. And she could see in Matthew’s eyes that he would too.

  He pulled his hand back and stood. “See you in the morning then? After the delivery, at my house?”

  “Ja. I’ll see you there.”

  She walked him to the front door, wondering again how she’d been so blessed. She wouldn’t question it, only be thankful for it. And even as she watched Matthew walk away, she felt complete. She wanted nothing more than to see what the weeks and months had in store for them both. Surely things would only get better from here.

  Lemon Bars

  Crust

  2 cups all-purpose flour

  ½ cup confectioners’ sugar, divided

  1 cup butter

  Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Mix together flour, ¼ cup of the confectioners’ sugar, and butter. Press into bottom of 9 by 9-inch pan. Bake for 20 minutes.

  Filling

  2 cups sugar

  ¼ cup all-purpose flour

  ¼ cup fresh lemon juice

  4 eggs, beaten

  In a large bowl, mix sugar, flour, and lemon juice. Add beaten eggs; mix well. Pour over hot crust. Bake for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and dust with remaining confectioners’ sugar. Cool completely before cutting.

  Fourteen

  If you always wait for the right time, you might never begin.

  AMISH PROVERB

  Joy paused in front of the small house, and a dull ache bowed her shoulders. Matthew was right. This was the house they were using for the television show. She took a deep breath and blew it out, thankful that she’d come alone. She should make the delivery and get on with her day without it becoming too much of a fuss.

  Her hand tightened on the handle of the wagon. Six quilts were wrapped neatly and stacked. She’d walked by this house hundreds of times without really paying attention to it. It was the color of oatmeal with a small peaked roof covering the porch. Two tan, plastic chairs sat on either side of the white door. If she didn’t know it was being used by a television show, she wouldn’t think twice about it. It didn’t look much different from any of the other houses on this street.

  Her flip-flops patted the ground as she walked to the front and knocked on the screen door frame. She waited a few minutes and then opened the screen door to knock louder. Her fist paused midair. A sign was taped to the door.

  Deliveries: Please go to…It listed an address a few blocks away. Joy was familiar with that area. Before buying the warehouse for Me, Myself, and Pie, Lovina had considered buying an old theater on that street. There were more warehouses there too. Were the television people using one of them to store supplies? She wasn’t quite sure how such things worked.

  It took no more than ten minutes to walk to the address. And their presence was easy to spot. Metal fencing had been erected around a large warehouse. Small trailers, like ones used for camping, had been set up in the back of the warehouse, behind the fencing. Vehicles were parked out front—both cars and delivery trucks. A security guard manned the entrance. Joy couldn’t help but smile seeing him standing so erect and serious. Did they really think their Amish neighbors would try to break in and bother their things? She chuckled at the idea.