The Search Read Free

Mammi indicated Bess with a thumb, without saying she was her granddaughter. Mammi never told more than the minimum.
    Lainey gave Bess a brief nod, then turned back to Mammi. “I’ve been meaning to pay you a call since I came back to Stoney Ridge.”
    “Good. I’ll expect you for Sunday noon dinner.” Mammi looked through the glass counter. She pointed to a cherry tart. “You make those?”
    Lainey nodded. “Just this morning.”
    “I’ll have one. Make it two. And a cup of coffee.” She glanced at Bess. “What about you?”
    “A Danish please,” Bess answered. “And a coffee too.”
    “Make it milk,” Mammi said. “And best stick to those cherry tarts. If those are as good as I remember, you’d be a fool to miss ’em.” She paid Lainey for the baked goods and took her coffee to a small table by the window.
    Bess asked her grandmother how she knew her.
    “Who?” Mammi asked, the picture of surprise.
    “The bakery lady. Lainey.”
    “She grew up around here. Then she left.”
    Mammi didn’t offer up another word. She ate with the fork in one hand, the knife in the other, polished off her two cherry tarts and then eyed Bess’s. Bess quickly stuffed it into her mouth. It was the finest cherry tart she had ever tasted, with a crumbly crust and cherries that were sugared just right and still tart. Soon, Mammi was ready to go, and she looked at Bess pointedly. Bess guessed that when Mammi was ready, she’d better be.
    That was another odd thing about Mammi—as big as she was, she could move like greased lightning. In a twinkling, she was at the door, pointing at Lainey. “Sunday noon, then.” It was a statement, not a question.
    The bakery lady looked a little pale but gave a nod.

    Lainey O’Toole watched Bertha Riehl walk out the door and climb into the buggy. Bertha had always been a big, husky woman, now even bigger than Lainey remembered. Older, too, but she still moved along like a ship under full sail. And beside her was the young girl with platinum blond hair under an organza prayer cap that was shaped differently from the Lancaster heart-shaped cap. She had white lashes that framed her wide blue eyes. They made an odd pair. The girl turned back to wave at Lainey, as if she knew she was being watched. That young girl seemed as jumpy as a cricket. But those blue eyes—they were the color of a sapphire.
    As surprised as Lainey was to see Bertha Riehl walk into the bakery, she was relieved too. She had wanted to see Bertha again and wasn’t sure how to go about it. She’d already been in Stoney Ridge for two weeks and hadn’t mustered up the courage to head to Rose Hill Farm. Bertha wasn’t the kind of woman you could just walk up to and start asking personal questions. She could just imagine the way Bertha would stare her down, until Lainey’s mind would go blank and she would forget why she was there. Like it did only fifteen minutes ago, when she turned and found herself face-to-face with her in the bakery.
    Still, there were things only Bertha could tell her. It was the reason she was in Stoney Ridge in the first place.
    Lainey had a plan. She was on her way to attend the Culinary Institute of America in upstate New York—she had scrimped and saved every penny for tuition since she was eighteen. She finally had enough money, was accepted, and was eager for her new life to begin. The school term didn’t start until September, but she wanted to find a place to live and get settled. She thought she could pick up a waitress job to tide her over. Lainey liked planning her future. It was a trick she had learned years ago. Making plans gave her great comfort; she always felt better with a plan in place—like she had some control over her life.
    Two weeks ago, Lainey packed up everything she owned and said a teary goodbye to her two best friends, Robin and Ally. She was going to make a quick pass through Stoney Ridge on her way to New York. At least, it was going to be a quick stop until her