Read Online Love Finds You in Sugarcreek, Ohio by Serena B. Miller - Free Book Online Page A

of hay in his fist at Grant’s silence. “Tell me.”
    “The economy is going through a tough time.”
    “So?”
    “So, your business manager had to cut me off. Henrietta said that what with all the expenses…”
    “What expenses?”
    “She said that big house of yours is burning a hole right through your cash.”
    “There was more than enough in my accounts to take care of things—including your salary.”
    “It doesn’t matter. The clues have dried up. The cops aren’t sharing. Unless someone comes forward for that reward you offered, there’s not much I can do. Besides…I have some newer cases I need to be working.” Grant hesitated, as though he realized how hard all this must be for Joe to hear. “I—I’ll keep an ear out for you, though.”
    “Thanks, man.” Joe felt sick. Grant was giving up?
    “Keep your head down. Take care of your son.”
    “I will.”
    Joe disconnected and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Should he call Henrietta? Find out why she couldn’t manage to pay the detective he had hired?
    He didn’t want to talk to her. Not yet. He knew that if he called, she would insist he come home. Henrietta, who was both his business manager and public relations manager, was also his friend—one who had been dead-set against him and Bobby leaving.
    It was tempting, though, to call and ask her to wire him some cash. But even though he knew he could trust her with his money, he wasn’t sure he could trust her with his location. Henrietta had always loved the limelight, even when it was only secondhand. It was one of the things that made her an excellent PR person. It would be impossible for her to keep it quiet if she knew where he was.
    In the distance, he heard Lydia calling him to their noon meal—a meal he had earned several times over this morning. That call to Henrietta could wait until he knew for certain that he and Bobby couldn’t survive without it.

    Rachel sat down at the computer in the break room at the police station and thought about her day. She had managed to keep the 2 p.m. Kiddie Parade moving in spite of the route getting clogged by a fender bender. Then out-of-town tourists had made the mistake of trying to pet a horse attached to an Amish buggy. It had spooked, big-time, but Rachel and its owner had finally gotten it under control.
    A woman had gone into sudden and extreme labor downtown, directly in front of the Alpine Museum, and Rachel had helped to open a path through the crowd for the ambulance, hoping all the while that she wouldn’t have to personally deliver the baby in the middle of the sidewalk.
    All this drama played itself out against the continual background of the oompha! oompha! polka music at the pavilion. She had watched as a group of teenagers, inspired by the happy music, formed a conga line and wound their way through the serious polka dancers, cavorting and acting silly. Since the elderly couples actually dancing the polka didn’t seem to mind the impromptu conga line, she left it alone.
    The grinding, mechanical sound of a small carnival competed with a yodeling contest. Small children tried their hand at milking a life-sized mechanical cow while their parents waited in line at the fire station to sample some of the best Swiss cheese in the world.
    In the crowd, girls in Amish dresses, crisp prayer kapps, black hosiery, and tennis shoes had jostled against people wearing ornately embroidered Swiss costumes. This was the cultural mix into which Rachel had been born, and she felt completely at home. The sound of accordions, yodeling, and the booming harmonies of long-necked alphorn instruments was in her blood.
    It was not, however, a good weekend to have a wreck—or give birth or bring a high-strung horse into town. It also wasn’t a good time to have an unwanted guest at her aunts’ home.
    Their farmhouse was less than a mile from the heart of town, so she had been able to drive by every time she had an extra ten minutes. Each time she