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Booker.
    And curiosity killed the cat.
    The old adage popped into her mind like the warning it was meant to be. She knew full well it was dangerous to become involved with an outsider. Yet there was something familiar about him that nagged at the back of her mind. Something that made her believe they’d met before. If that were true, why wouldn’t he simply say so?
    Booker was a riddle. A riddle she wanted to solve. The thought of being cooped up at the inn suddenly took on a whole new outlook. He would be here, too.

Chapter Four
    A fter leaving Rebecca, Gideon descended the stairs of the inn and headed for the café. For the first time in three days he had an appetite. He entered the dining area and was seated by a young Amish waitress.
    He accepted an offer of coffee while he studied the menu. After the waitress filled a white mug and set it before him, he added a splash of real cream from a small pewter pitcher on the table. He took a cautious sip of the hot rich blend. Even though his voice hadn’t returned, swallowing wasn’t as painful. A second sip of coffee went down as smoothly as the first. Maybe he was finally on the mend.
    Pulling his cell phone from his pocket he clicked the weather app and checked the local weather and road closings again. The storm that had coated the northern half of the state in ice was gearing up to add a foot or more of snow to the rest of the state.
    He wasn’t going home tonight, but it was unlikely the roads would be closed for long. Once the storm passed, he’d be on his way. If not first thing in the morning, at least by the afternoon. He sent a text message to Roseanne notifying her that he wouldn’t be in to the office in the morning.
    Her reply was succinct. Good!
    Gideon closed his phone and turned his attention to the people around him. The café’s customers were mostly Amish enjoying a special treat of eating out after the auction. He remembered many times like this with his family. Although his mother professed to be annoyed with the expense, everyone knew she secretly enjoyed not having to cook.
    There were a few non-Amish present in the café, too. He was the only one dining alone. Everyone else sat with family or friends.
    His gaze was drawn to an Amish father, a man about his own age, seated with four small children and his wife at the table across the aisle. When their food arrived, the man took his infant son’s hands and held them between his own as he bowed his head in prayer. The baby protested only briefly before keeping still. Children were expected to behave and quickly learned the value of copying their elders.
    Gideon knew the prayer the man was silently reciting. It was the Gebet Nach Dem Essen, the Prayer Before Meals.
    O Lord God, heavenly Father, bless us and these thy gifts, which we accept from thy tender goodness. Give us food and drink also for our souls unto life eternal, that we may share at thy heavenly table, through Jesus Christ. Amen.
    The Lord’s Prayer, also prayed silently, would follow the prayer before meals as well as the prayer after meals. Gideon hadn’t prayed much since he left home. A sense of shame crept over him. He had plenty to be grateful for and no good reason to ignore the blessings he’d received.
    The Amish father lifted his head, signaling the end of the prayer for everyone at the table. He patted his son’s golden curls and began cutting up the meat on the boy’s plate. It was a simple act, but it moved Gideon to wonder if he would ever do the same with children of his own.
    Maybe it was time he settled down and started looking around for a woman to spend his life with. He hadn’t alreadybecause the business took up all of his time. He’d been so intent on making a place for himself in the English world that he’d failed to notice the place he made was hollow and empty of love.
    He had few friends other than Craig. He lived in a sterile one-bedroom apartment, ate takeout in front of his flatscreen TV. He had