Toxic Toffee Page 2

  “Oh my,” Charlotte said when she climbed out of the front seat of the car. “Look at all those rabbits.”

  I was still struggling to yank my carry-on out of the backseat. “Rabbits?”

  “Bunnies, so many bunnies. I’ve never seen so many rabbits.” Her voice had a bit of awe in it.

  Finally, the bag came loose, and I stumbled back and would have ended up on my rear end in the middle of Main Street if Aiden hadn’t been there to catch me. He squeezed the back of my elbows before letting me go and taking the carry-on from my hand. “Bunnies?” I asked in a small voice.

  “Oh yeah,” Aiden said with sparkling milk chocolate eyes. “Take a look for yourself.”

  With more than a little bit of trepidation, I peeked over the roof of the car and saw the rabbits. Just to the right of the gazebo was a pen that held at least thirty white rabbits of all sizes. A large Amish man with a white beard and a round belly stood in the middle of the pen holding the biggest rabbit of all with a bright pink bow around its thick neck. He held the rabbit like she was a baby to be burped on his shoulder.

  I glanced at Aiden. “Easter in Harvest?” I asked.

  He grinned, and the dimple was out full force. “Margot’s version of it at least.”

  As he said this, I spotted Margot Rawlings with her short curls, waving her arms in the middle of the square. She was clearly giving everyone there her marching orders. I knew it wouldn’t be long until she heard I was home and ordered me about as well. I still didn’t know exactly what she’d meant when she had said to me, “I need to talk to you about a rabbit.” Was it one of these rabbits that she meant? Our conversation had been interrupted by Jean Pierre, who had plucked my phone from my hand and disconnected the call. He had said that the people of Harvest could have me back the next day, but as long as I was in New York, I should pay attention to him.

  I loved Jean Pierre. He was a kind and generous man. He had never been anything but nice to me, but he did have an inflated opinion of himself. I supposed being told you were the best chocolatier in New York City for the last fifty years would eventually go to a person’s head. He was a bit of a prima donna when he wanted to be.

  It soon became clear that I wouldn’t be able to stay under Margot’s radar for long. The town’s super organizer spotted me from across the village square and waved frantically. It was clear that she wanted me to run to her side that instant.

  I waved back as if I didn’t understand what her “come here” gestures meant. “We had better duck into Swissmen Sweets,” I told Aiden. “I don’t want to be waylaid by Margot before I even say hello to my grandmother.”

  “Understood,” Aiden said, and he guided Charlotte and me to the other side of the street where my family’s candy shop stood directly opposite the white gazebo. As Aiden opened the door, I was welcomed home by the comforting smells of warm chocolate, sweet caramel, and fresh berries. The same scents mingled in the air at JP Chocolates, but in Holmes County it was different. The sweet smells mixed together with the scent of hay, horse, and the apple blossoms from the trees that lined Main Street. In that moment, I could see why so many people who have never been to Amish Country are fascinated and enchanted by this place. The Amish might not believe in magic in the literal sense, but they did have a little magic of their own making in this small corner of the world.

  The bell on Swissmen Sweets’ front door jingled as we walked through. My grandmother was behind the glass-domed counter, putting a tray of molded chocolate Easter eggs out on display. Her wrinkled face and bright blue-green eyes, just like mine, lit up when she spotted us. “My girls are home!” She lifted the hinged piece of wood that separated the area behind the counter from the rest of the shop and came to us. She enveloped Charlotte and me in a hug, and then pulled Aiden in for good measure.

  I was most definitely home.

  Chapter 3

  My grandmother finally released us from her crushing hug. For a small woman, she was very strong. “It is so gut, so gut to have you home. These last six weeks have been long. Emily has been a great help, of course, but I have missed you so!”

  Emily Keim, formerly Emily Esh, had recently married. With her marriage over the winter to Christmas tree farmer Daniel Keim, she’d been able to give up her job working at Esh Family Pretzel, the shop just next to Swissmen Sweets. Emily had worked in the family business her whole life with her older brother and sister, but it had never been an easy job for her. Both her sister Esther and her brother Abel had been unkind to her ever since she’d made a few mistakes during her rumspringa. They had never forgiven her or forgotten those mistakes and continued to make her pay for them years later.

  Daniel, a kind young man from a hardworking family, had given her a chance to start a new life, and with the windfall that I had earned from my cable television show, Maami and I had been able to hire Emily to provide extra help around the candy shop. I hoped that as the business grew I would have more work to give her or even hire her permanently as a member of our staff, which at the moment consisted of Maami, Charlotte, and me.

  Emily had held down the fort at Swissmen Sweets the last six weeks while Charlotte and I had been away. I knew that Charlotte and I wouldn’t have both been able to go without Emily’s help, and my producer Linc Baggins had insisted he needed both of us. He said having a real Amish person on the show gave it that Amish flavor it needed.

  “I feel whole again having my girls back.” My grandmother hugged us once more. “It was too quiet here without you.”

  I buried my face in her shoulder, and her fresh lavender scent wafted around me. For the second time since I had returned to Ohio, I truly felt like I was coming home. “We missed you too,” I said, and let her go.

  Maami patted my cheek. “You came home at the perfect time. There is quite a to-do in the village about Easter. I’m sure that you have seen the commotion across the street.” She eyed me. “And Bailey, Margot is very eager to speak to you. She has a project for you.”

  My orange cat Nutmeg ran out from under one of the shelves lining the front of the shop and purred. I bent over to pick him up. I had missed the little cat too.

  “I know,” I said. “She called me while I was in New York, but I didn’t have much time to talk other than to hear her say something about a rabbit.” I paused. “And I saw the bunnies across the street when we were coming in. Another one of Margot’s grand schemes, I gather.”

  “Oh yes, she has great plans for you when it comes to the rabbits.”

  I set Nutmeg back on the pine-planked floor. “Do you know what they are? I think it might be easier for me going into the conversation with Margot if I have a clue as to what she’s talking about. That way it will be less likely she will talk me into something I don’t want to do.”

  Charlotte laughed as if she thought I had no chance of not being talked into whatever scheme Margot was cooking up. Charlotte had a point. Margot had talked me into playing Mother Mary in the Christmas parade the previous year because the other four Mary contenders had taken themselves out of the running. As Cass had said at the time, I had been a fifth string Mary. It was one of the more ridiculous things I had done since moving to Ohio. Which was impressive because I had garnered quite a long list of ridiculous things.

  “Margot wants you to carve a giant chocolate rabbit,” Maami said. “You won’t have to have anything to do with the live ones, I don’t think.”

  I squinted. “That’s it?” It was hard for me to believe. Because carving a giant rabbit out of chocolate was not only something that I was capable of doing, it was something that I would actually enjoy. In fact as far as work went, carving elaborate showpieces from chocolate was the aspect of my old position at JP Chocolates that I missed most. Jean Pierre had displayed pieces like my Statue of Liberty in his showroom and at important events and trade shows.

  There was no such thing as a chocolatier-carving trade show in Holmes County, Ohio, and even if there were, I didn’t have the time to do anything abo
ut it. We had a busy shop with a small staff, and, around the big, sugar-heavy holidays like Easter, it had to be all hands on deck in the shop. I didn’t know how I could take the hours upon hours that it would require for me to carve a large chocolate bunny away from the main part of Swissmen Sweets’ business, and that was selling candy.

  “If that’s all she wants me to do, I don’t see any issue with it except for lack of time.”

  “I knew you would say that, so I’ve asked Emily if she could work a little extra time for us through Easter, and she can.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said. “I promise to make it up to you.”

  She waved me away as if it was of no concern, but it was a concern for me. I wanted my grandmother to enjoy her life and not work all the time. Charlotte and I shared a look. We had discussed sending Maami on a trip to Pinecraft, the Amish community on the west coast of Florida, sometime in May. What Charlotte didn’t know was that I planned to send her too. They both worked so hard. It wouldn’t hurt me to stay behind and mind the shop.

  Aiden shifted his weight. “Now that I have seen you both safely home, I should head back to the station. I’m sure the sheriff has an assignment or two for me.” He frowned. Aiden and Sheriff Jackson Marshall were like oil and water. I was convinced the only reason Marshall kept Aiden on the force was he was well-liked by both the English and Amish communities in Holmes County, so Aiden was a good face for the department.

  “Danki for bringing the girls home,” Maami said, and she guided Charlotte into the kitchen. “Charlotte, I want to show you the cookies-and-cream fudge eggs that Emily and I made yesterday. I think they will be a top seller.”

  “Oh!” Charlotte said. “I love cookies and cream.”

  “I know, dear.” My grandmother winked at me over her shoulder before she and Charlotte disappeared through the swinging door that separated the front of the shop from the industrial kitchen. I knew she was giving Aiden and me a moment of privacy.

  After the kitchen door swung closed behind them, Aiden spoke. “I’ll drop your luggage at your house on my way out of town.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can roll it there after I leave the candy shop for the day.”

  He smiled. “Will you let me take your suitcase to your house? I’ll just stick it inside the garage. I have to go that way to get back to the office.”

  I knew that wasn’t true. There were more direct ways to reach the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department than to go by my little rental house. “You may.”

  The dimple appeared in his cheek. “Good. It wasn’t so hard to let me do something for you, was it?”

  “I suppose not,” I said.

  Maami and Charlotte could be heard chatting in the kitchen, and there was no one else in the front of the shop. It seemed that everyone else in the village was across the street with the rabbits.

  Aiden looked this way and that to make sure the coast was clear and then he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. “I missed you. Welcome home. Are you glad to be back?” he asked in a whisper.

  “Very glad,” I whispered, meaning it.

  “Good then, because I plan to take you on a proper date just as soon as I can.”

  I grinned. “What’s a proper date in Holmes County?”

  “You know, the typical thing—square dancing.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “What if I said I don’t square dance?”

  “Then I’ll just have to take you to dinner and a movie.”

  “Dinner and a movie sound very nice.” I blushed.

  He shrugged. “It’s your loss on the square dancing though.” He do-si-doed to the door. “I’m a mighty fine dancer.” He walked through the front door laughing.

  “I’m sure you are,” I whispered after he left.

  Chapter 4

  I remained in Swissmen Sweets, cowardly hiding from Margot, for another hour, going over supply lists and Easter orders with my grandmother. It seemed that Charlotte and I had come back home just in time. There was a long list of last-minute Easter orders that we had to make. We would have to create chocolate bunnies double time. I was glad Emily would be able to pitch in too, but I saw a lot of late nights at the candy shop ahead of me in these few days before the holiday. It was important that all the bunnies were tucked in the baskets for the waiting children Easter morning. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for the Easter bunny being a no-show. This, of course, was a worry exclusively for the English homes in the area. The Amish didn’t believe in the Easter bunny, and for them, Easter was a much more solemn and serious holiday.

  After an hour of list making and logistics, I gathered up the courage to cross the street to learn more about the giant chocolate rabbit I was supposed to carve. I was sure I could do it. My only concern was the short and unrealistic timetable that Margot would assume I could meet. Part of me expected her to tell me that she wanted the rabbit done by the next morning, which would be impossible.

  When I went through the front door of the candy shop, I found the village just as it had been an hour ago. Main Street full of buggies and cars, the square full of rabbits. A compact car was parked on Main Street and emerging from it was an English woman with waist-length black hair whom I had never seen before. Ruth Yoder, the steely-haired wife of the bishop in my grandmother’s Amish district, spotted the woman at the same time I did and marched over to her. “You are not welcome here!” She shook her finger at the woman.

  The woman wore cropped jeans and a T-shirt. She tugged on a lock of her long hair as if it was a piece of rope. “I’m just here to see a friend.”

  “I know what you do to your friends.” Ruth set her hands on her ample hips. “You are not welcome in Harvest. Go back to Millersburg, or better yet, leave Holmes County altogether.”

  The woman said something that I couldn’t hear.

  Movement in the car caught my eye, and I spotted a man sitting in the passenger seat. I couldn’t make out his features because he had his head bent staring at his lap. I guessed he was looking at a phone.

  “You need to leave,” Ruth said, bringing my attention back to her and the black-haired woman. “Right now.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. Usually, my curiosity would win out, but in this case, I decided that I didn’t want to know. Even my gentle grandmother thought Ruth was insufferable, so I gave the pair a wide berth and focused on the task at hand, finding Margot.

  Margot Rawlings stood with a large Amish man in front of the gazebo. She was facing me, but the man’s back was to me. She held a bullhorn loosely in her right hand. I groaned. It would be a great public service if someone could hide that bullhorn from Margot. I would be willing to donate to the cause of getting rid of it. She was plenty loud enough without it. I wondered if Aiden could confiscate it in the name of public safety. I made a mental note to ask him.

  As if she could sense my criticism of her bullhorn, she lifted it to her mouth. “Bailey King! I see you standing across the street there with your mouth hanging open. Get over here, girl! We need to talk!”

  Everyone on the square, including the rabbits, turned and looked at me. I realized that I had two choices: I could go over to the gazebo as she demanded, or I could dash back into Swissmen Sweets, pretending that I hadn’t heard her. The second option was risky at best. No one would believe that I hadn’t heard the bullhorn commands, and she would just stomp into the candy shop after me now that she knew I was back in the village. Option one really was the only choice.

  I straightened my shoulders and walked across the street.

  As I drew closer to her, the man she was with turned, and I saw that it was the Amish man holding the big white bunny with the pink bow that I’d seen earlier in the bunny pen. The same rabbit was in his arms.

  “Bailey, thank goodness you’re back in the village,” Margot said in a normal voice. I was grateful she didn’t use the bullhorn at this point since I was close enough that hearing loss was a very real threat.

  “We need your
expertise for Easter,” Margot continued in a rush. “As you can see, we have decided to expand the Easter celebration this year. After the success of the Christmas Market, I thought, why don’t we do something big for Easter too? Isn’t Jesus’s resurrection as important as his birth?”

  “Some would say it’s more important,” I said mildly. I smiled at the Amish man standing next to her. “I’m Bailey King from Swissmen Sweets.” I held out my hand.

  “I’m Stephen Raber.” He smiled back, adjusted the rabbit on his arm, and shook my hand. “I know your grandmother. She’s a fine woman.”

  Most people in Harvest, whether they were Amish or English, thought the same thing about my grandmother, but I smiled all the same.

  “How rude of me,” Margot said, smacking herself on the top of her short curls. Each curl on Margot’s head was perfect. It made me think that she was one of the ladies who went to the village hair salon every week to get their hair set and to pick up on the latest gossip. Margot seemed to know more about what was happening in the village than anyone else. I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if she knew the number of my return flight to Ohio.

  “Stephen is from Raber’s Rabbits,” Margot said. “He’s what made having all the white rabbits here this week possible. Aren’t they darling? I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if a lot of little boys and girls got white bunnies for Easter.”

  “If they have a gut home, they just might,” Stephen said around something he was chewing. “I won’t sell my rabbits to just anyone. I have to know that they will be going to a gut home.”

  “That’s admirable of you,” I said, but I was a little surprised. The Amish had a very different view about animals than most modern English people did. To many Amish, animals were for work and work alone. Or for food. Even dogs and cats were kept for the practical purposes of herding animals or catching mice. If Stephen had a rabbit farm, selling rabbits must be his livelihood, which was why I was surprised that he would be picky about what homes the rabbits went to. That wasn’t always a consideration for the Amish when it came to livestock.