Six.

I should at least stop by and explain." Annie wiped her hands on her jeans on Saturday morning then picked dust left by her half day's work out of her T-shirt.

"Isn't this the opposite direction than we want to go?" Myra raised an eyebrow.

Seeing her mother standing in Mrs. Weichert's eclectic shop took some getting used to for Annie. Myra wore lightweight designer slacks in a hard-to-match shade of blue that she nevertheless managed to match. With the casual shirt and sweater, she looked as if she had idly thrown the outfit together on a Saturday morning. Annie knew the skill that level of shopping required.

Six months earlier, Annie gave away a walk-in closet full of clothes like that. Now she wore jeans to work because Mrs. Weichert counted on her for lifting and shoving and keeping some order in the storeroom. Her small collection of dressy tees and polo shirts rotated with her work schedule and her new simple life in a hundred-year-old house a few blocks away. the only two dresses hanging in her wardrobe were Amish dresses. She wore them when she visited an Amish family or gathered with the Amish congregation. Annie was determined to sew the next dress herself.

Business in the shop was brisk enough to pass three hours easily. Mrs. Weichert had returned from the estate sale with a tall dresser, a writing desk, and three lamps. Annie had helped unload them and situate them in the storeroom for closer inspection later, finishing just as her parents arrived.

"Franey is expecting me," she said now. "I told you about the quilt. We work on it every Saturday."

"You could call her."

"Mom. Please." Her mother knew the guidelines for using telephones.

"It seems to me this simple life of yours is a little complicated."

"It's only five miles." Annie searched her mental files seeking a route to the Springs that did not require backtracking and making the detour total ten miles.

"I suppose we have no choice. We'll swing by your place to get your things, make this one stop, then we'll be on the road. You'll have time to relax before Penny arrives."

Annie did not remember agreeing to go. But she had not said she wouldn't, so thirty minutes later she sat in the back of her parents' Toyota-new over the winter-and rested her arm on a small canvas bag containing a couple changes of clothing.

She really wanted to spend the afternoon quilting. Penny's plane was still six hours away from touching down.

And there was Rufus. Almost two weeks had passed since their last real conversation, and she missed him.

Outside the car window, trees hastened toward blooms while snow still whitened the slopes of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Annie sometimes rode in someone else's car on this road, but her winter in the valley had taught her the rewards of patient observance. Even as the Toyota bore down on the road, something in Annie wanted to scream for her father to slow down even though he was not going all that fast. It was just too fast for the moment.

Inside the car, Myra Friesen listed more possibilities for family fun than the chamber of commerce. Penny was only staying five days. And if Annie knew her sister, Penny was already filling her calendar with catch-up coffee meetings with old friends.

Everything was changing with her parents' sudden personal intersection into Annie's simple life. The whole day. The next week.

Memories stirred. Two successful companies. Technology that set new industry standards. Seizing change and using it for her own advantage. Life in the fast lane.

The choice she made six months ago after she stumbled onto the Beiler family farm to give it all up. The choice her own family did not understand. They might never, she realized.

Annie leaned forward, gripping her father's seat in one hand and pointing with the other. "See the lane? Turn left. It's a long driveway."

Brad Friesen slowed the car and made the turn. Gravel ground under the tires as he let the natural grade of the lane draw the vehicle toward the house.

Annie spotted Franey in the garden. She put her window down and waved. Franey returned the wave then let her hoe drop into the dirt. She made her way toward the vehicle, arriving just as the car came to a stop and wiping her hands on a flour-sack apron.

"You remember my parents? You met once last summer, out at Mo's."

"Yes, of course." Franey leaned in the window and gave the welcoming smile that greeted all guests to her home. "You must come in for some refreshment."

"Thank you. That would be lovely." Annie was out of the car before her mother could protest, though she saw the way her parents looked at each other and slowly exited the car. "Don't you want to see the quilt, Mom? You gave me some scraps for it, remember?"

"Why, yes, that would nice." Myra turned to Franey. "We just have a moment, though, so please don't put yourself out."

"It's no bother. We have a houseful right now anyway." Franey waved an open hand toward her home. "Please come inside."

Annie scanned the wide yard for any sign of Rufus. Even just a moment alone would bolster her. He was nowhere in sight, though. The door to the workshop was shut tight with no lights showing in the windows. The barn was closed, but Annie realized two horses were missing from the pasture where they usually grazed while they were not out pulling buggies.

"The men are out looking at the work that needs to be done on the Stutzmans' house," Franey said.

Annie held her breath against the urge to sigh and stepped toward the house. "Sorry, Dad. Guess you're stuck with girl talk."

Brad Friesen took his daughter's hand, and Annie returned the squeeze that had always been their secret reassurance.

Inside, Franey said, "Please make yourselves comfortable. I'll clean up a bit and get some iced tea." She disappeared into the kitchen.

Annie watched her mother's eyes move around the room. She knew the questions behind her gaze. The first time she came into the Beilers' home Annie whipped out her iPhone and tapped in an Internet search on Amish bathrooms. Even though her mother had been in Annie's home, which used alternate sources of energy rather than electricity, the curiosity factor was sure to be high in an authentic Amish home.

"It seems quite comfortable." Myra tentatively selected a seat on a sofa and signaled to Brad that he should sit beside her.

"Relax, Mom. I'll get the quilt."

Annie went to the cedar chest under the wide window framing a view of the Sangre de Cristos. Though she grew up in the foothills of the Rockies and had barely noticed them when she lived in the Springs, Annie did not tire of the peaks she now saw every day. She snuck a look while she lifted the lid of the chest and gathered a bundle of Amish hues into her arms. Leaning up against one end of the chest was the lap quilting frame she used each week. Annie picked it up, still reluctant to concede that she could not spend the afternoon quilting.

Across the room Annie dropped the frame into a chair and used both hands to spread the quilt out in the open space, making sure one corner landed in her mother's lap.

"You made this?" Myra slipped one hand under the blue corner and let the fingers of the other hand graze the stitching.

Annie nodded. "It's just nine-patch squares. Nothing fancy to start with. Franey said I could use a treadle machine, but I wanted my first quilt to be handmade."

"The colors are lovely." Myra's expression softened.

"Do you see the brown?" Annie smiled. "That's the dress you made for Penny when she was in the play her senior year."

"I remember. And the dark green is the curtains we used to have in the kitchen. You and Penny were so little then."

Annie pointed to a patch. "There wasn't much of this pink, but I wanted to use it somehow. It was Franey's idea to put it at the center of each nine-patch."

"Did I hear my name?" Franey entered with four glasses of tea on an unadorned wooden tray. She bent slightly for the Friesens to get hold of the drinks then set the tray on a side table and picked up a corner of the quilt still held together with long, evenly spaced basting stitches. "Our Annalise is learning quickly."

Annie sucked on her bottom lip as she watched her mother's reaction to the endearment in Franey's words.

"Annie masters everything she puts her mind to," Myra said, her smile fading and brow furrowing. "It started when she was three and a half and decided to do handstands."

"It is an admirable quality," Franey said. "God blessed us richly when He sent her into our lives. But I'm sure you feel the same way."

Myra reached and covered Annie's hand. "And we hope to have her with us for many more years."

Now Annie sucked her top lip.

"We would love to have you visit us any time you come to Westcliffe to see Annalise," Franey said.

No one but Annie and Penny would recognize the miniscule straightening of Myra's spine, the movement that came just before her mama bear roar.

Annie stood quickly. "My parents surprised me with the news that my sister is coming home for a few days. They are hoping to have us all together."

Franey raised her eyebrows and turned her lips up. "Yes, you should do that."

The sound of rapid steps brought Edna Stutzman and her three daughters down the front stairs.

"Whose quilt is that?" Beth took the corner of the quilt from Myra's lap.

"These are our houseguests," Franey said. She made introductions quickly. "Annalise was showing her mother the work she has done on her quilt."

"That it explains it then," Beth said. "It is the work of a beginner. At least she's trying hard."

Annie swallowed a retort. Humble, humble, humble. "Franey is teaching me every Saturday."

Beth pulled the yardage through her hands in three swift tugs. "I could work on this in the evenings for you. It has potential."

Franey gently lifted the quilt from Beth's hands and folded it properly. "It can wait until Annalise has time. After she spends a few days with her family."

Annie met Franey's eyes. On the sofa, her mother shifted in agitation.

Ike Stutzman put his finger to a chin buried in beard.

Rufus remembered that Ike had been doing that since he was a young man with neither wife nor beard. Ike had a pronounced cleft in his chin and his finger fit there nicely. Rufus was not the only boy to imitate the gesture with a snicker when he was Jacob's age. Doing it once in the presence of his father, though, halted the fun. A month doing the chores of three boys persuaded Rufus that imitation was not all that amusing. But he smiled now at the thought that Ike still put his finger in his chin when he was thinking.

"It sounds like fine land, of course." Ike nodded. "And you make a good point about participating in community decisions if we are to also benefit from the outcomes."

"I'm glad you see it that way." Rufus nudged the team to a brisker pace. Annalise should be at the house by now, working on her quilt.

"However, in this case it seems a frivolous matter, and I would have to advise against it."

Eli's voice from the bench behind them saved Rufus from having to respond. "Ike, you just got here. You have plenty of other things on your mind."

"It seems like a simple enough matter," Ike said. "We have an abundance of God's handiwork here. Our people do not need hiking trails to see that."

Eli nudged Ike's shoulder. "Perhaps you would get to know some of your neighbors in the process."

Ike's sons also were in the back of the wagon. Rufus wondered where Joel was-again. Joel could at least extend friendship to Mark and Luke while the Stutzmans were their houseguests. Joel's new habit of disappearing from his work in the family fields had reached disconcerting frequency. His father was sure to step in soon.

The horses knew to turn into the lane.

"We have visitors," Eli said when the house came into view.

Ike huffed. "English."

"Our neighbors nevertheless."

Rufus took in the scene. A late-model silver Toyota, spanking clean, parked close to the house. If Annalise was there, she was not alone.

Franey laid the quilt on top of the chest and looked out the window. "The men are back. I should pour more iced tea."

"I'll help you." Annie ignored her mother's helpless gaze, picked up the tray Franey had set aside earlier, and followed Franey into the kitchen. If Rufus put the horses away and came in through the back door she could see him, even if for just a moment.

Franey moved swiftly around the kitchen, setting out glasses, filling them with ice, and pouring cold tea. Annie dawdled with a stack of cloth napkins, running thumb and forefinger over the folded edge of each one before laying it on the tray.

"Don't worry. Rufus will be along." Franey lifted the tray and held it out to Annie.

Annie let out a sigh and returned to the front room to serve the men. Her mother still sat on the sofa, looking unsure of where to let her eyes settle. She was trying not to stare. Annie gave her credit for that much. Her father stood to shake the hands of Eli and Ike, comfortably meeting their gazes.

Ice clinked in glasses as conversation turned to work the Stutzmans needed to do on their new house to make it suitable for an Amish family. Talk of painting made Annie realize she had not seen Rufus yet. While she mentally speculated about where he might be and half listened to talk of propane appliances, she cocked her head for the sound of steps in the kitchen. As long as Annie did not meet her mother's eyes, Myra would not interrupt to urge their departure.

Finally she heard the screen door chink into its framed notch. Excusing herself, Annie picked up several empty tea glasses and headed for the kitchen. Rufus was at the sink washing his hands.

"You've had a busy morning." Annie moved to the sink and set the glasses down. Standing beside him, she looked up.

He rewarded her with a smile. "Looks to me like you've had a change of plans yourself."

Her shoulders sank.

"What is it? Aren't you happy to see your parents?"

"I should be happy. My sister is coming home. My mother wants me to stay with them for a few days."

"Well, that's good. You haven't seen your sister in a long time."

"Not since before...all this."

"Last summer, you were the one who persuaded me that I should see my sister Ruth after a year and a half of silence." Rufus reached for a dish towel and dried his hands. "I hate to see you fall into the same trap. You should go."

"I don't know why I'm so nervous. I made a choice. Once we see each other face-to-face, I know Penny will understand." She wanted him to raise his hand to her cheek. Or cover her hand with his. Or smile again. Or something.

He reached into a cupboard for a glass and poured the last of the tea into it. And yet he said nothing more.

"Well," Annie finally said. "They're waiting. I guess I should go."

He nodded then dumped the cold drink down his gullet.

When she heard the swish of skirts, Annie turned to see Beth standing in the doorway to the dining room. She crossed her arms on her chest, suddenly self-conscious that she was wearing jeans and a tee.