Chapter 1.
Thy mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens; and thy faithfulness reacheth unto the clouds.
Psalm 36.5
“Yours was a lovely wedding, Emma, and everyone enjoyed themselves so much,” the elderly widow, Ettie, said as Emma sat down to the first widows’ meeting after her marriage to Wil Jacobson.
“Denke, Ettie. I’m glad I finally married him. I mean, I guess it was fast to marry someone just over a year after Levi died, but…”
Ettie’s sister, Elsa-May, who was sitting next to Emma, put her knitting down, reached out and grabbed her hand. “There are no rules for things like that, Emma. No one can live your life for you. You just have to do what’s best for you.”
Emma thought back to the first widows’ meeting she’d ever gone to. It had been over a year ago. Her best friend Maureen, who had been a widow for some years, had invited her to the small group who met at least once a week. Elsie-May and Ettie were schweschders who were around eighty years of age and the younger widows Silvie and Maureen were in their early thirties. Theirs was an informal gathering, much like a support group, where the ladies were free to speak their minds and share their concerns.
“Now what about you, Silvie? Surely you’re next to marry? What’s that nephew of ours up to?” Ettie sipped hot tea from a white china teacup.
“I keep forgetting that Bailey is yours and Elsa-May’s nephew,” Maureen said.
Silvie beamed at the mention of Bailey, the handsome FBI agent who had fallen in love with her. “If he keeps his word, he’ll be coming to join the community in three months or sooner. He said he’d come even if he’s not able to close the case.”
The widows all looked at each other in silence. They knew that it was unlikely that Bailey would solve the case anytime soon. After all, he had been working on the stolen art case for years.
“Emma and I had the idea that we should all help him figure it out,” Silvie said.
“Oh Silvie, I was only joking. I don’t think it’s a good idea because he’ll feel that you think he’s not capable,” Emma said.
Ettie made a sound, which meant she agreed with Emma. “Menner can be funny like that sometimes, they always like to be the one in control. They need to feel superior.”
Elsa-May put her knitting down into her lap again. “Unless… unless we do it in a clever way.”
“Like what?” Silvie warmed her hands around a teacup.
“Don’t know. We have to come up with a plan,” Elsa-May said as she picked up her needles and continued her knitting, one purl and one plain.
“What if we ask him if he wants us to help him?” Maureen asked.
The widows were silent for a while, then Silvie said, “But, what if he says no?”
“I think the only thing we can do, unless someone comes up with a better suggestion, is to ask him straight out if he wants our help. He’d probably want all the help he can get, so the case is solved before he joins the community,” Elsa-May said.
“Bailey told me that thousands of paintings all over the world have been stolen, and a great many of them are never found. He said that only one in ten stolen paintings is ever found. He’d have to expect that the case might never be solved,” Ettie said. “The numbers are against him.”
Elsa-May said, “He might think that the numbers are against him, but not when he’s got Gott to help him. We’ve nothing to lose by asking Bailey if he wants our help. You ask him Silvie, in your next letter to him.”
Silvie smiled, put her teacup back down on the saucer, which was balanced on her knees, and said, “He’s coming here next week.”
“Is he staying long enough so we can all have dinner at my place one night?” Emma knew that Wil would like to see Bailey again. The bishop had arranged for Bailey to stay at Wil’s haus for a time, many months ago, when he was working undercover on the very same case on which he was still working.
“Jah, he’s staying at the Wilsons’ B&B for a few days. That would be gut, denke, Emma, and that would be the perfect time to talk about this with him.” Silvie looked around at the other widows, and they nodded in agreement.
Emma tilted her head to the side. “Only one in ten stolen paintings is ever found? I would have thought that a famous painting would have been easy to find.”
Ettie shook her head. “Not according to Bailey and he’d know since he heads up the Stolen Art division of the FBI.”
“What else did he tell you, Ettie?” Maureen asked.
“The FBI only has a small team dedicated to stolen artworks compared to other countries. Bailey’s team has recovered three major works of art in the past nine years. They were stolen in Germany just at the end of World War Two, and they ended up at an auction house near Philadelphia.”
“So that’s what led Bailey to believe that Frank and his daed were involved, because those paintings ended up in Philadelphia?” Emma asked of the case that brought Bailey to Lancaster County. Someone had murdered old Frank from the community while his house was searched for valuable paintings, proving that Bailey was not the only one who thought that Frank had the paintings.
“Jah. Frank and his daed were art auctioneers in Chicago and then moved here. At the same time as they moved from Chicago, some paintings were stolen and shortly after that, the stolen paintings turned up in Pennsylvania. Bailey became suspicious of Frank because those stolen paintings followed his geographic movements.”
“Frank legitimately owned the valuable paintings that Wil was storing for him,” Maureen said.
Ettie nodded. “That’s right, and now Bob Pluver has inherited those paintings. Do you know what he’s doing with them, Maureen? I hope he’s not just hanging them in his haus; they’ll be stolen if the right people figure out he has them.”
Maureen shrugged. “I’m not sure what he’s doing with them, Ettie. He could’ve sold them for all I know.”
“So you haven’t seen them in his haus?” Silvie asked with a smile.
Maureen laughed. “I can see straight through all of you. I know that you’re trying to figure out whether I’ve been into his haus recently.”
Elsa-May arched an eyebrow. “Well, have you?”
Maureen shook her head. “Nee, I don’t think his mudder likes me.”
“Nonsense, she’s sweet; she’s not like everyone thinks she is. It’s just that the expression on her face is not happy, but when you talk to her, she’s as sweet as pie.”
“Lemon Pie?” Silvie laughed at her own joke.
“Nee,” Ettie said. “She’s nice and harmless. I heard that her husband, Bob’s daed, was a hard man to get along with. No one knew it when it was happening, but I found out that she had a life of misery with him. No doubt Bob had just as hard a time of it. I’ve told you all this before, Maureen.”
“I knew that Bob’s daed was a hard man, but I never gave too much thought to the effect it would have had on Bob’s mudder.” Maureen frowned. “You might be right. I should give her a chance. It’s the way she looks at me that upsets me, as if she doesn’t approve of me, but it might just be the way she looks.”
“Of course it is; she’s a nice lady,” Ettie said. “Give her a chance and you’ll see what I mean.”
Emma knew why Maureen thought the way she did. Bob’s mudder had always looked to her as if she was sucking on a lemon. Always as if she disapproved of everything and that was even before her husband had been killed.
“Have you moved into the new haus, Emma?” Ettie asked.
“Jah, we moved right in after the wedding. Wil’s still working on it and probably will be for a while.” Emma wrapped her black shawl tighter around her shoulders. The fire was doing nothing to warm her.
“What are you and Wil doing with your old houses?” Ettie asked.
“We’re going to lease them out and that way we’ll have some money left over to keep going with the renovations. I’ve already leased my haus out to Wilhelm and Grace; they’re moving in as soon as they’re married.” Emma chewed on a fingernail as she thought of all the work that had to be done on the new haus.
