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that fire took over one thousand lives here the same day the Great Chicago Fire took three hundred lives?”
    Just like that, John wrestled the crowd’s attention away from Fontana while also squelching the rumor about the fudge. I wanted to hug Pauline’s boyfriend.
    A school bus waited for them on the blacktopped road in front of the church.
    Cherry hustled after John out the door. Fontana wiggled along in her wedge sandals at Cherry’s elbow.
    Pauline and I piled into the front seats of my yellow Chevy pickup truck. I had pulled onto the road heading east when a flash of red and yellow appeared in my side mirror. I stopped.
    “What’s wrong?” Pauline asked.
    “Double-fudge trouble.” I shifted into reverse.
    “Don’t hit the bus.”
    “I won’t.” I backed up enough to let Fontana see me. “Fontana is trying to sneak back in the church.”
    After spotting me watching her, she headed in the opposite direction toward Jonas over at the historic schoolhouse east of the church.
    Pauline growled, “Let her sneak back in. She owes us for not helping us clean the church.”
    “I think she knows something about that knife, Pauline.”
    “I told you to forget that knife. And don’t get involved with Fontana. She’s been too unpredictable since her divorce from Daniel. Let’s go.”
    Fontana was waving her hand in the air toward Jonas, who was pushing a wheelbarrow filled with garden tools. Through our open windows we heard Fontana yell, “Jonas! I need a ride.”
    “A ride, my foot,” I muttered. “She’s waiting for me to leave. Then she’ll duck into that church to look for that recipe and hide that knife.”
    I pulled my cell phone out of my shorts pocket, intending to call the sheriff.
    Pauline groaned. “Don’t call Jordy. That woman isn’t somebody you want to tangle with. Daniel nearly lost his property in their divorce because she was sentimental about the tree in their yard where she’d carved their initials. Who knows how she’ll get back at you for having her arrested inside this church? We don’t know for sure she had anything to do with that knife.”
    I stared at my phone, then sagged in my seat. “You’re right.”
    “Hearing you say that is music to my ears.”
    “Thanks, Pauline. And thanks to your boyfriend for deflecting trouble.”
    “I’m hungry. Did you and your grandpa bring along any of your Rose Garden Fudge that won your contest last July? Chocolate with rose petals tastes heavenly with a cabernet.”
    As she rattled on, I watched with great trepidation as the church ladies, including my grandmother, toddled out of the old schoolhouse with their brooms and mops. Over at the church, Fontana seemed to be leading Jonas toward the church’s side door near the parking lot. She probably thought she was hidden behind the vehicles still parked there.
    “My grandmother is responsible for locking up the church today. Fontana’s going to cause Grandma Sophie trouble if I don’t do something.”
    Pauline gave me a cross-eyed look. “I give up. Call the sheriff, but then let’s leave so you don’t end up blamed for this trouble.”
    An hour later Sheriff Jordy Tollefson showed up during the postluncheon presentation by Cherry at Ava’s Autumn Harvest on Highway 57 to tell me the bad news.

Chapter 3
    I t was a good thing Sheriff Jordy Tollefson showed up when he did at my roadside market. The neighbors were arguing—not good for selling pumpkins and fudge to tourists.
    Everybody was gathered on the large grassy area outside the stone barn. Ava’s Autumn Harvest was located on property belonging to Daniel and Kjersta Dahlgren. My barn was about forty yards from their house, large garden, and garden pole shed. Their apple and cherry orchards lay beyond behind the house. Highway C ran by in front. Vehicles were parked up and down the blacktopped road as well as on the grassy land between the driveway and my stone barn.
    Cherry’s presentation about the harm done to our local