smell the rank odor of his clothes. Then the bell on the door jingled, and he jerked around. In another instant he shambled out of the shop, brushing by Aaron King without a word.
Aaron frowned after him before crossing the space to her. “What was Gus Hill doing in here?” He studied her face, his brown eyes seeming to darken. “Was he bothering you?”
“No, no.” Gus was harmless enough, despite his manner. “He came by because Julia told him he should thank me, but I could have done without the visit.” She pulled the bolt of yellow cotton from the rack. Sure enough, there was a streak of dirt almost the width of the fabric.
Aaron grasped the bolt, preventing her from walking away. “I glanced in the window when I walked past. You didn’t look right. That’s why I came in.”
“I’m fine.” She would not be moved by the protectiveness in Aaron’s manner. It didn’t mean anything. “I was just cringing at his touching this material.” She gestured toward the bolt, hoping she sounded natural. “Look at it. I’ll have to cut off the end.”
Without responding, Aaron took the bolt and carried it to the cutting table for her. She could feel his gaze on her while she moved behind the table and picked up the scissors. Before she could cut, he put his hand lightly on hers, making her pulse jump.
“We’re friends, Sarah. You’d tell me if something’s troubling you, ain’t so?”
“There’s nothing. I’m fine.” It took a conscious effort to draw her hand away from his. “What brings you to Blackburn House this morning? You’re not shopping for quilting fabric any more than Gus was, that’s certain sure.”
She said the words lightly and was surprised by the way his brows drew down and his lips tightened.
“Aaron?” she questioned. “Was ist letz? What’s wrong?”
His broad shoulders moved in a shrug. “Nothing’s wrong. I came by to check on something with Harvey Preston, that’s all.”
Preston was the real estate agent who had an office on the second floor, and she couldn’t help a natural curiosity about Aaron’s business with him. “From your expression, you weren’t happy with his answer, ain’t so?” She smiled up at him. “We’re friends, remember? You can tell me if something’s troubling you.” She repeated his words back to him.
Aaron started to shake his head and then broke off, his lips moving in an answering smile. “Guess I can’t say it’s not your concern, ain’t so? You remember that I talked to Matthew Gibson before he took off for Florida last fall?”
“You offered to buy his place if he was thinking of selling.” Gibson’s property was across the road from that of Aaron’s family. It would make a nice addition to the farm, probably doubling the size.
“He hadn’t made up his mind then, but he promised me that I’d have the first chance at it when he was ready to sell.” Aaron’s clear gaze clouded. “Well, I just found out that Preston was handling the sale for him, and the place is already sold without a thing being said to me.”
“Aaron, I’m so sorry.” She almost reached out to touch him before realizing that might not be the best of ideas. “It’s hard to believe Matt Gibson would do that to you after giving you his assurance.”
“Ja.” Aaron ground out the word, his strong jaw tight under the chestnut beard. “It was his business, but I certain sure never thought he’d go back on his promise like that. Still, he’s old and he’s been sick. Maybe he just forgot about it.”
“Is it really too late?”
“Preston says the papers are already signed. He apologized, but said Matt never mentioned a word about giving me first refusal. The place went to somebody from out of state.” He shrugged again, managing a smile. “Well, it’s God’s will, ja?”
It was the normal Amish response when life didn’t go according to their plans. It was God’s will. “Maybe you’ll find a place for sale that’s even better.”
“Nothing else is likely to be for sale along our road.” He didn’t sound optimistic. “Daad’s place isn’t big enough to support all of us, but with Gibson’s land we’d have been okay, and my mamm and sister could keep watching my girls.”
“I know,” Sarah said gently. Aaron’s two little girls, Anna and Lena, were the center of his life since Mary Ann’s death, and of course Esther King was delighted to take care of them. It would be difficult for all of them if Aaron had to move farther from his folks to make a living.
“Well, there’s no point in crying over spilled milk, I guess.” The finality in his tone made it clear the subject was closed. Aaron glanced at the soiled fabric she had crumpled in her hand. “Are you going to try and salvage that piece?”
She could wash it and add it to the box of remnants she kept for people who needed just a small amount of one color. But the dirty streak on the pale color seemed to remind her of the discomfort she’d felt at being alone in the shop with Gus.
“Not worth it,” she said, and tossed it into the trash. There was an end to it. She’d never felt uncomfortable being alone in the shop before, and she wouldn’t start now. The shop was her creation and her haven, and it occurred to her that if she hadn’t lost Aaron, she’d never have had the shop.
“Gut. I’ll put this back for you.” He started to pick up the bolt, but then stopped and grinned, looking for a moment like the boy he’d once been. “If you think my hands are clean enough.” He held them out, palms up, as if for inspection.
She couldn’t help looking. They were good, strong hands—hands that could do a hard day’s work and yet be gentle enough to soothe a troubled child. For an instant she imagined them touching her, imagined having the right to hold them close against her—
Sarah yanked her mind away from such dangerous thoughts, hoping the warmth in her cheeks didn’t mean she was blushing.
“You’ll do,” she said briskly. “Mind you put it back in the right place.”
“Bossy,” he said with a smile, and moved away.
By the time he’d completed that small task, Sarah had her breathing under control again. Aaron headed for the door, and she followed him with a question.
“Is there any news about the fire marshal getting involved yet?” As a volunteer, Aaron would probably know as quickly as anyone.
“Nothing I’ve heard. Since there wasn’t any significant damage, it’s not likely the state police marshal would get involved.” Aaron stood frowning, his hand on the doorknob. “I have a bad feeling about these fires, though.”
She nodded. “My daad must have gone out six times to check the barn last night. He’s trying not to let the younger ones see that he’s upset, but...” She let that trail off, knowing Aaron would understand.
“Anybody old enough to remember the last time we had a firebug has to feel that way.” He rested his hand on the door frame.
“It’s strange, isn’t it, that the fires were during the day?” she said. “From the little I remember, all the ones before started at night.”
“Maybe
