A Christmas to Die For by Marta Perry Page A

don't trust his taste. If he's talking about developing the land, he might have in mind a faux-Amish miniature golf course, for all I know."
    His eyebrows lifted. "I should think a new attraction would draw more people. Isn't that what you want as a business owner?"
    "Not something that turns the Amish into a freak show. Besides, our guests come to the inn for the peace and quiet of the countryside. How would you like your window to overlook a putting green or shooting range?"
    "If and when I sell, I probably won't have much choice about what use the new owners make of the property. Any more than your neighbors could control your turning the mansion into a bed-and-breakfast."
    He was being annoyingly rational, turning her argument against her in that way. She'd like to argue that at least her bed-and-breakfast, even if it benefited from its proximity to Amish farms, didn't make fun of them.
    Maybe she shouldn't borrow trouble, but she couldn't help worrying how much Tyler's plans for the property were going to affect her future.

    * * *
    The strains of "Joy to the World" poured from the speakers of the CD player the next morning, filling the downstairs of the inn with anticipation. Rachel took a step back from the side table in the center hall to admire the arrangement of holly and evergreens she'd put in a pewter pitcher. The antique wooden horse toy next to it sported a red velvet bow around its neck.
    "What do you think?" She turned to Grams and Emma, who were winding a string of greens on the newel post. "Should I add some bittersweet, too?"
    "It looks perfect the way it is," Grams said. "I wouldn't change a thing."
    Nodding, Rachel looked up at the molding along the ceiling, finding the eyehooks from which something could be hung. "Where's the Star of Bethlehem quilt? I'm ready to hang it now."
    "The Star of Bethlehem quilt," Grams echoed. "I haven't seen it in ages."
    Rachel blinked. "But we always hang it here. It's part of my earliest Christmas memories. We can't not have it." Absurd. She actually felt like bursting into tears.
    Grams exchanged glances with Emma.
    "I know chust where it is, ja, " Emma said quickly. "I will get it."
    How silly she was, to be that obsessed with recreating the Christmases of her childhood. "You don't have to. If you'd rather put something else here—"
    "Of course not," Grams said quickly.
    "Well, let me get it, at least."
    But Emma was already halfway up the stairs, her sturdy, dark-clad figure moving steadily. "It makes no trouble." She disappeared around the bend in the stairs.
    Grams smiled. "Don't worry about Emma. She enjoys the decorating as much as we do, even though it's not much of a tradition among the Amish."
    "Not like you Moravians." Rachel smiled. "You're Christmas-decorating fanatics."
    Grams's face went soft with reminiscence. "That's what it is when you grow up in Bethlehem. Every aspect of Christmas has its own tradition."
    Grams had brought those traditions with her when she married. The Moravian star, the peppernuts, the putz , an elaborate crèche beneath the Christmas tree—those were part of the lovely Christmas lore she'd passed on to her granddaughters.
    All Rachel's memories of Christmas had to do with Grams and Grandfather, not her parents. Hardly surprising, she supposed. Her parents had been separated so much of the time, with her father always off pursuing some get-rich-quick scheme or another. And her mom—well, Lily Unger Hampton had used the holidays as an excuse for extended visits to friends in the city. It had been Grams and Grandfather who made up Christmas lists, baked cookies, filled stockings.
    Then Daddy had left for good and Mom had fought with Grandfather and taken the girls away. And their childhood ended.
    She smiled at her grandmother, heart full. "We should go over to Bethlehem some evening while the decorations are still up. You know you'd love it."
    "If we have time," Grams said, avoiding an answer. "We still have a lot to do before