Mischief in the Autumn Air: An Amish Harvest Novella

By Vannetta Chapman

Eli and Martha don’t seem like a match, but solving a mystery may uncover their true feelings.

When items start going above market value at his auction house, Eli Wittmer is first thrilled, and then puzzled. But when the house is broken into, Eli and his new bookkeeper, Martha Beiler track down a trail of clues. Will they solve the mystery before the fall festival ends—and discover an unexpected new love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Nelson
• Release date: Aug 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9780718023645

Vannetta Chapman

Vannetta Chapman writes fiction full of grace and is the author of over 20 Amish novels. She discovered her love for the Amish while researching her grandfather's birthplace in Albion, Pennsylvania. Vannetta is a Carol award winner and a Christy award finalist. She lives in the Texas Hill Country where she writes full time. She and her husband spend their time doting on their labrador, beagle, cats, and herd of deer. Vannetta also loves to knit, quilt, hike, camp, and travel.

Book preview

Prologue

Sugar Creek, Ohio

April

Martha Beiler stared out across her porch and yard, oblivious to the cold rain splashing against the porch rail, wetting her shoes and apron.

What does it say, Martha? And why are you standing there in the cold? Land sakes, dear. I thought something terrible had happened. Fannie had hurried across the small pasture that separated their two farms. Carrying an umbrella and wearing sensible shoes, she was dryer than Martha. Though twenty-two years older than Martha’s forty, they’d long ago become fast friends.

Let’s go inside. You can put on dry clothes while I heat some water for tea.

That’s the way things were between them—the other’s kitchen felt as familiar as their own. When Fannie tugged on her arm, Martha nodded in agreement, folded the letter, and slipped it back into the envelope. She stopped only to scoop up the barn cat and set it in the basket away from the rain. Twenty minutes later, Martha and Fannie were at the old oak table, hot cups of tea in front of them.

Fannie read the letter again and then passed it back to Martha. "Your aenti wants you to come."

There are conditions.

Attend church, help around the house, plant a spring garden. Fannie’s finger ran down the page. Oh, and no pets. Well it’s not as if you would have taken Bandit with you.

I suppose whoever buys this place might allow him to live in the barn—he is a good mouser.

He spends at least half his time on my back porch. You know I will continue to feed him.

Martha nodded, one problem resolved. What of the dozen or so others? How would she ever find the strength to sell all they owned and move two hundred and fifty miles west?

You’re blessed to have family who will provide you a place to live.

I have a place to live. Martha sipped the tea, though she’d rather have been out walking in the rain, trying to make sense of what her life had become.

Ack. You have your husband’s farm, which should fetch you a goodly amount. You’ll be able to pay off the bank loan and have some left over to live on. She tapped the letter that sat between them. "Especially if you stay at your aenti’s and accept the job she mentions."

At an auction house? I know nothing of auctions.

We have them every year for the school.

That is different and you know it. The auctions in Shipshewana, they are famous. Tourists come from all around. Life there is nothing like our quiet life here in Sugar Creek, Fannie.

"Perhaps not, but it seems to be where Gotte is directing you."

Do you really think so? Martha swiped at her hair and pushed the tea aside. Crossing her arms on the table, she leaned forward and studied her best friend. Do you think I should go?

I think that Melvin would like to know that you are taken care of and that you are with family.

But you’re my family. The words were an ache in Martha’s heart. How could she leave the life she and Melvin had built together, the only true home she had ever known, and the dear woman sitting across from her?

"I will always be your freind. Fannie reached forward and covered Martha’s hands with her own. We can’t understand why Gotte chose to call Melvin home when He did, or what His intentions are for sending you to Shipshewana. But this?"

She gestured again toward the letter. This is a blessing for sure and for certain. It will solve all of your financial problems.

Martha nodded, pulled her hands away, and picked up the letter. But working at the auction? I can’t imagine—

"You’ve always been gut with numbers. Remember when my Stephen couldn’t fathom the math in his textbook?"

We had that Mennonite teacher from Millersburg.

Who thought he should be able to read his books while the children learned on their own.

Martha smiled for the first time since the mailman had dropped off the letter and changed the course of her life. Stephen was so worried. He used to rub at his forehead when something troubled him.

Still does. I’m certain it’s why his hair has receded there. Fannie touched the right side of her own forehead, indicating the spot where Stephen’s hair had fled. "But my point is that you helped him then and in fact, helped all of my children with their math. I was never good at it, and Leroy certainly didn’t have time, what with trying to pull a living from this place.

"We managed though. We’ve made a gut living and a gut life." Martha felt as if she could not sustain one more loss. Leaving this woman and her church community would be like leaving a part of herself among the hills and valleys of Sugar Creek.

That we did. Fannie stood, walked around the table, and pulled Martha to a standing position. "Be strong, dear. Gotte has a plan. He always has a plan for His children."

Martha knew that Fannie was right. The problem was that it wasn’t a plan she understood or liked. Nonetheless, it would do no good to behave as a child and be pulled from her home kicking and screaming. She could either let it go voluntarily or wait for the bank to kick her out. Best to follow the path her aenti was providing. She understood that truth, but she didn’t have to like it.

Chapter One

Shipshewana, Indiana

Eighteen months later

Martha stood with a ledger in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Maybe you should call the police.

Because people were seen inspecting our merchandise? Eli Wittmer ran a hand along his jaw, something he tended to do when he was aggravated.

At six feet and thin as the coatrack he stood next to, Eli never failed to make Martha feel short and dumpy. She was short, and she tended toward chunky. Neither was Eli’s fault, but still she liked him less for it. She realized the feeling was shallow and illogical. When he frowned at her so, she became shallow and illogical. That certainly was his fault.

Martha had no doubt that she had once again tried her boss’s patience, which was an incredibly easy thing to do.

Something’s not right. I saw them early this morning when I walked through to make sure everything was set up for the opening.

Our auction barn is open to buyers at seven a.m.

But they’re not supposed to touch the merchandise. They’d pulled out one of the dressers and were inspecting it.

Buyers often do, in spite of our signs warning them to only look.

And Joey Davis saw them last night, after we had already left. He came by to tell me about it earlier.

She’d finally caught his attention. Eli pulled off his hat and ran his hand through curls that were