Katie's Way by Marta Perry Page A

such studied casualness that it was obviously important.
    â€œThomas?” Katie mentally scanned the faces of the young folks she’d met at the singing. “Tall? Kind of gawky?” Of course that described at least half the boys there.
    â€œHe’s not gawky,” Rhoda said, her tone indignant. “I think he’s handsome, with those brown eyes and light hair.”
    â€œAch, ja. I was thinking of the wrong boy.” Katie tried to make amends. “Thomas is good-looking, for sure.” Rhoda thought so, and that was the important thing. “Did you talk to him?”
    Rhoda shrugged. “A little. He’s in the same gang as Becky, and they said I could be, too.”
    â€œI’m glad.”
    The word gang probably had a different meaning in the outside world. To Amish teens, it was a loose group of friends who did things together. For sure it was important to a newcomer like Rhoda to belong to a gang, and Katie could be confident that Becky’s group would be an appropriate one.
    She felt a surge of gratitude toward Becky. Despite Caleb’s attitude, Becky had gone out of her way to welcome Rhoda.
    Not that Caleb was always so judgmental. Katie uncovered the quilt rack, letting her hand rest on the smooth curved wood for a moment, and glanced into his shop. No one was there, but from the second floor came the rasp of a saw. Caleb was obviously getting in some work time before he opened up.
    Rhoda, humming something Katie suspected was a popular song, began sweeping the floor. Despite Caleb’s unbending attitude toward her sister, there had been moments when she’d almost thought they might be friends.
    When Caleb had helped her out with that Englisch dealer, for instance. She might very easily have given in to his ridiculously low offer for the crib quilt, just for the sake of selling something, if not for Caleb’s timely warning.
    She touched the fine feather stitches of the quilting. The piece was worth every penny of the price she’d put on it, and she’d be foolish to take less.
    Thanks to Caleb she hadn’t. And when he’d brought the quilt rack in to display, she’d thought surely they were done with disagreeing.
    Not so. Caleb’s disapproval of how she’d handled Rhoda set her back up. Unfortunately, it made her question her judgment, as well. What did a maidal like her know about raising a teenager?
    Still, Caleb was no more a parent than she—
    Katie cut that thought short. Caleb was a parent, if Molly’s story was true. Somewhere out there in the Englisch world, he presumably had a child. It was inexplicable.
    â€œKatie, someone’s here.” Rhoda, picking up the broom and dust pan, scuttled behind the counter.
    She was right. Lisa Macklin approached the door, and in a moment she’d entered, a smile crinkling the fine lines around her eyes, her short gray hair ruffled from the spring breeze.
    â€œGood morning, Katie. I said I’d stop by, and here I am.”
    â€œWilkom, Mrs. Macklin.” She handed the sheet she held to Rhoda, brushing a thread off her skirt. “You are out early.”
    â€œI don’t open my shop until ten on Mondays, so I thought I’d stop by. And you’re going to call me Lisa, remember?” She approached the counter, turning her smile on Rhoda. “And who’s this?”
    â€œThis is my sister, Rhoda, komm from home to help me with the new shop. Rhoda, this lady is Mrs. Macklin. She has the gift shop down the street—the one with all the candles in the window.”
    Rhoda nodded politely, still clutching the broom. “I have seen your shop.” She glanced at Katie. “Shall I sweep in the back room, then?”
    â€œJa, do that.” Had Lisa come to buy, perhaps? Katie fervently hoped so.
    Rhoda and the broom disappeared into the back room, and Katie returned to her visitor. “Can I help you find something?”
    â€œI’ll