Christmas Cookie Mystery Read online

  “In that case, I’m mighty glad for your company. Since you began working at that bakery, I don’t get to see you as often as I did.”

  “Dat, you didn’t see me any more before than you do now; I was in school all day.”

  “Well, that might be right, but with you growing up before my eyes, it for sure seems like I see less of you. And I’m froh to have your company.”

  * * *

  When Katie and her dat walked into the kitchen, her mamm was filling glasses on the table with milk.

  “Katie, du bischt daheem. What has kept you so late? You almost missed your supper. I was about to send your dat to look for you.”

  “Mamm, I told you I was going to stay late and work on a surprise for Mrs. Simpkins. You should not have held supper for me. I am all grown up now. You do not have to worry about me.”

  “Now, Katie. Your dat and I agreed to have supper a little late tonight, in case you made it home in time to eat with the family. And no matter how grown up my kinner get, I always fret a bit. I know that Gott is looking out for you, but I’m still your mamm—and you’re still my dochder—and I will always worry about you.”

  Katie’s mamm gathered her close for a hug. Martha Chupp had been raised in a home where hugs were scarce, but she had always given her kinner lots of hugs.

  “Mamm, do you need me to help prepare the food for the Sunday gathering? I’ll have time after supper to help with whatever needs to be done.”

  “Well, if you could bake a couple of pies, I think everything else has already been done. Do you think you will have time after supper?”

  “Of course. I’m glad there’s something left for me to do. I want to do my share of the work, you know.”

  Katie moved to where Mamm had set out glasses. She gathered them up to move them to the long table. As she looked around to see what else needed doing, she watched her Dat, as he moved over to stand behind Mamm, who was still standing at the stove and tended to supper.

  She could still remember how Mamm had told each of the kinner on their first day of school that she would always make time for hugs—no matter how old they got. Even now, Ervin, who was nineteen and seemed all grown up, always gave his mamm a hug before he went up to his bedroom at night.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a laugh from Mamm as she swatted at Dat with her spatula.

  "Caleb Chupp, you are likely to have no dinner if you insist on distracting me." Mamm laughed again as Dat reached out to grab hold of the spatula, then swooped in for a kiss. When he stepped back, he was smiling at Mamm.

  “Iffen I have to choose between my frau and my supper, I’ll choose you over supper any day of the week.”

  Katie sighed. That’s what I want. . . I want someone to be in lieb with me—and kiss me—and make me smile, like Dat does with Mamm.

  Mamm turned to Katie, but there was still a big smile on her face as she said, “Go call your bruders and schweschders to supper, Katie.”

  On the Second Day of Christmas . . .

  Ginger Snap Cookies

  Ingredients:

  3/4 cup shortening

  1 cup sugar

  1 large egg

  1/3 cup molasses

  2 1/3 cups sifted flour

  2 teaspoons baking soda

  1 teaspoon ginger

  1 teaspoon cinnamon

  1/2 teaspoon cloves

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  Extra sugar as needed for dipping

  Instructions:

  1. Cream shortening and sugar together

  2. Add molasses and beaten egg

  3. Add spices to sifted flour along with baking soda and salt

  4. Add dry ingredients to creamed mixture

  5. Shape dough into one-inch balls and dip in sugar

  6. Place on a lightly greased cookie sheet

  7. Bake in 350° oven for 15–18 minutes

  8. Remove from pan and place on rack to cool

  — THREE —

  Travis braced himself as he opened the door, knowing that Bobby, his little brother, was likely to be just on the other side, waiting to throw himself at his older brother.

  No pint-sized bullet hit him as he stepped through the doorway into the front hall. He stood there a moment, shaking his head, as he looked into the empty living room. There were a few toys dropped haphazardly around the floor, but no Bobby.

  It took only a step further down the hall for Travis to realize he could hear voices coming from the back of the little house. He followed the sounds, taking note of the dinner dishes piled neatly beside the sink to be washed.

  Is it my night for dish duty? It must be. If it were Gwen's turn, she would have done them by now. He let out a small sigh at the thought of having to scrub dishes for a dinner he had missed altogether.

  I shouldn't complain. Mrs. Simpkins didn't have to pay me to stay tonight, but she had insisted. I would have stayed whether she'd paid me or not. I couldn’t have left Katie up on that ladder all by herself.

  Travis worried much more about Katie than he ought to. The very thought of her up on the ladder with no one else there with her, had him clenching his teeth together as he set down the box of desserts and breads Katie had handed him on his way out the door.

  She had insisted the bread was old and could not be sold—and the desserts were extras that would be too crisp to sell the next day. And, while he knew that Mrs. Simpkins preferred they sell fresh desserts and breads, he did not buy Katie's insistence that it was accidental.

  He was beginning to worry, quite a bit, about his growing feelings for Katie.

  The hug. . . That hug had been totally unplanned, and probably a huge mistake. She had pulled away after only a minute, but those sixty seconds—give or take a few—had been enough to give him plenty to worry about.

  Hopefully, she hasn’t noticed yet how much I care. But what are we going to do? It’s not like she’d leave her church—and her family—for someone like me.

  Pushing those thoughts aside for a moment, he remembered how much the whole town had gotten in on the act of caring for his family. There always seemed to be someone dropping off a casserole or a pie or a dozen cookies.

  And that wasn't even counting the stuff Katie's community had brought them. Someone had actually left an enormous container of milk on the porch.

  He'd opened the front door to leave for work one morning and there it was; a large, metal bottle or bucket—or whatever—of milk, with a note that said it was for the children . . . and cooking . . . and whatever else it was needed for.

  Other families had brought eggs, bags of flour and sugar in sizes he hadn't even known a person could buy in stores, whole meals and more friendship bread than he thought the whole block could eat, but the younger kids didn't seem to have any trouble packing it away.

  Even Bobby, who was only five, always seemed to have food in his hands now. All of it was greatly appreciated, but Travis couldn’t help but wonder just how much his mom had kept from him. Surely the kids wouldn't be eating like that if they'd had normal meals before.

  They wouldn't have been stealing food, either. I must find out what’s going on—and who’s involved. I don’t want anyone getting hurt, especially my family—or Katie.

  He turned to leave the kitchen. Instead, he let out his breath in a huff when his little bullet of a brother rammed into him.

  “Travis! You're home!”

  “Yeah, buddy. I'm home.”

  Bobby was already peeking around his older brother to look inside the box Travis had put down on the counter.

  “What'd you bring home? Did Katie make these? When is she gonna make some more of those yummy cupcakes? Oh WOW! Look at all this stuff!”

  Travis chuckled as Bobby fired off questions, while rooting around in the box at the same time.

  “I don't know why you always ask what's in the box rug-rat. You'll see it before I can tell you, anyway.” He ruffled a hand through Bobby's hair, as his brother grunted a response.

  “Now,
to answer your other questions. Yes, Katie made most of the stuff in there, and I don't know when she's planning to make more cupcakes, but I can ask her tomorrow, when I see her.”

  Bobby started to speak, but changed his mind and nodded his head instead, while he stuffed his face with thick slices of raisin bread.

  Oh well, at least he didn't start with the cookies.

  “Hey pal, where is everybody else?”

  Bobby waved a hand toward the back room of the house, but didn't try to speak again, with his mouth full of bread.

  “Don't eat it all, ya hear.” Travis let out a chuckle as Bobby turned toward him, a sneaky smile on his face.

  “I mean it, Bobby. I know you've had dinner, but it's getting late. You don't need to go to bed with a full stomach.”

  A lightly muffled “k” was the only response Travis heard as he walked out of the kitchen.

  The laughter he'd heard earlier grew louder as he moved down the hallway, one voice in particular standing out to him. Travis gritted his teeth and forced a smile onto his face.

  When Katie had brought her boss and Mr. O'Neal with her on the fourth of July, he'd been certain the charming Irishman was involved with Mrs. Simpkins, but since the man had visited them more often than anyone else in town, Travis was beginning to think the cafe owner had designs on his mother.

  Any concerns he had about the age difference aside, Travis knew his mother was not ready for anything romantic. It had not even been a year since his father's passing.

  He squared his shoulders and prepared to force himself to be polite as he approached the open doorway of the den, where his mother spent most of her time. She had finally begun to recover from her bout with pneumonia—and then the weather had turned cold, bringing with it the possibility of a myriad of other infections.

  Even a simple cold could be devastating for her right now.

  The sight that met him was not at all what he had expected—and yet much worse.

  Gwen was sitting way too close to a young man who bore a striking resemblance to Mr. O'Neal. The young man was gesturing wildly and spinning an obviously tall tale for Gwen, their mother, and his two brothers.

  “So, did he kiss it?”

  “He did indeed, lass. He kissed the blarney stone full on, he did. He had a wager to win.”

  Gwen collapsed in giggles; while Travis watched his younger brothers make faces. That told him there had been something disgusting about the story.

  “Tis the truth. . . honest.”

  Travis looked up at the sound of Mr. O'Neal's voice. Indeed, he was here, and not only was he flirting outrageously, but the man’s obvious relative. . . son, cousin, nephew. . . was clearly after his own little sister.

  “Travis! When did you get home?” Gwen spoke up, rushing over to pull Travis into the room with everyone. “You have to hear this story. It's hilarious. Go on, please tell it again, Sean.”

  “Alas, t'would be my pleasure, but I see how late the hour is. I believe we should be going now.”

  “Aye; we really should be goin' on now.”

  Travis restrained himself as the two quick-talking Irishmen rose to say their goodbyes. He really wanted to make some sort of show of annoyance, but he had a sense that it would not go over well with his sister . . . or his mother, for that matter, so he kept it to himself.

  Gwen offered to walk their two visitors to the door—and Travis followed, stopping in the kitchen only because he spotted Bobby stuffing yet another treat into his mouth.

  “Okay kid, that's enough. You keep that up, you're going to end up with a stomach ache.”

  “Aww, come on, Travis.”

  “No, you come on, little brother. It's time for you to start getting ready for bed.”

  Bobby dragged his feet all the way to the bathroom, only moving through the doorway after Travis gave him a slight push in the right direction. “Go on, now. Brush your teeth.”

  “Night, Travis.” Mr. O'Neal called from the front hall, a moment before he pulled his younger relative through the doorway.

  Travis stood beside the bathroom door, watching as the two made their way down the broken and crooked walkway that led from the front door to the street.

  He expected Gwen to shut the door and turn, but she stayed where she was.

  She must have been watching them walk away, too.

  On the Third Day of Christmas . . .

  Irish Shortbread Cookies

  Ingredients:

  1 cup butter

  2/3 cup sugar

  1/2 cup cornstarch

  2 cups flour

  Instructions:

  1. Cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy

  2. Sift in cornstarch and flour; mix well

  3. Press into 10 ¾ x 7 inch pan

  4. Prick all over with a fork

  5. Bake in preheated oven 275° for 30 minutes, then reduce heat to 250 F and bake 1 – 1-1/2 hours longer

  6. Remove from pan and sprinkle with powdered sugar

  7. Cut into 20 tube-shaped cookies

  — FOUR —

  Katie followed her Mamm into the Yoder kitchen. They each carried a basket of food and a pie. Katie felt silly carrying the food. It felt as if she was telling everyone she had made it . . . she still felt guilty that she had been so excited over Mrs. Simpkins' window art. As a matter of fact, after everything that happened at the bakery, she had nearly forgotten about preparations for church the next day.

  “There she is.”

  Katie turned her head at the familiar voice and saw Ida Yoder walking over to take the basket from Mamm's hands.

  “Katie, we have been looking forward to one of your pies for two weeks now.”

  “Danki, but I am afraid this is not one of mine. Mamm asked me to bake a couple of pies, then she surprised me after supper—with two pies she had made before I got home from the bakery.”

  Mamm clucked her tongue before adding, “I may not have your touch for baking, Katie, but I used your recipe at least.”

  “Ach, then it will be just the same. Katie certainly got her baking skills from you, Martha.”

  Katie's mamm waved away the compliment, but Katie was grateful for the distraction and nearly made her escape—until Ida moved over to put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Amelia Simpkins works you so hard. Whatever will she do when you find a young man who convinces you it is time for your rumschpringe to be finished and done with, so you can join the church and marry?”

  Katie blushed furiously at the thought which immediately came to mind. Fortunately, Ida and Mamm took her reddened cheeks to mean something else entirely.

  “Ida, you shouldn't tease Katie so. She is only seventeen. She has plenty of time to find a young man.”

  Ida laughed before adding, “Right you are. And for sure and for certain she will appreciate having some money saved when the time kummes.” She squeezed Katie's shoulders again before letting go and moving on to relieve another of their food for the afternoon meal.

  “Just be sure you kumme to the singing this Wednesday, Katie.”

  “I will do my best.” And with that, Katie made her escape.

  She was certain Mamm said something to Ida as she was moving away, but it was much too loud in the busy kitchen to hear her clearly—and Katie did not stop to listen, anyway.

  She could tell herself all she wanted that she must find a young man in the community who held her fancy, but at the same time, she was troubled when the only young man who came to mind, was the one who had held her attention of late.

  Katie had no more than stepped off the porch in the direction of the barn, than Freida looped an arm through hers.

  “Isn't it a beautiful, wunderbaar morning, Katie!”

  Katie could not help but smile at her freind's enthusiasm. Freida was one of those young maedels who would always be happy in spirit.

  “It is indeed, Freida.”

  “You will be at the singing this week, jah?”

  Katie
mumbled a hmm, but Freida didn't seem to notice a lack of response. When her footsteps slowed as they crossed the yard, Katie followed the direction her freind was looking. She was not a bit surprised that the group of young men Freida was watching contained several of the Yoder buwes.

  “One of these days I am going to find out just which buwe you are interested in.”

  Freida turned back to Katie, her cheeks stained a deep pink. “For sure and for certain, I do not know what you could be talking about, Katie Chupp.”

  Her insistence, coupled with the deep pink of her cheeks tickled Katie’s sense of humor—and it only took a moment for Freida to join in and they were both laughing.

  When Katie caught the expression on Lizzy Yoder's hard features, she stifled her giggles and shushed Freida. The two of them moved away from the crowd as they struggled to reign in their amusement.

  “Katie Chupp, you are likely to get us both in such trouble.”

  “Me. . . It is not me who was telling tales, Freida Schmidt.”

  “What are you two giggling over?” Katie's younger sister, Leah, appeared in front of them, looking very much like Mamm, with her disapproving look—which set Katie off again.

  Then they were both struggling again with giggles that threatened to erupt and promised to get them both into trouble with the church elders.

  “Little schweschder, you will understand soon enough. I assure you of that.”

  “I will never understand why you would want to get in trouble on a day of worship.” And with a “hmph” at the two of them, Leah went off to walk into the barn with the other young maedels.

  “I am going to enjoy watching her, when she discovers buwes.”

  Katie grinned, as she answered. “I am not certain she will ever be one to giggle and act silly. . . not even over a buwe. She will just find one who is as serious as she is—and they will go on the same way.”

  “Oh Katie, kumme now, you cannot know that. She may well surprise you. She could end up very different than she acts now.”