Simple Secrets (The Harmony Series 1) by Nancy Mehl Page A

Harmony’s name fits the town. Of course, that wasn’t always the case. Although this was before my time, back when your family lived here, the church’s bishop was a man named Amil Angstadt.”
    “My dad mentioned him. I guess he’s the reason my parents left Harmony.”
    Sam nodded. “From what I’ve heard, he ran this town with an iron fist. He died about ten years after your father left. That was about a year after your grandparents moved away. Some people thought they’d come back, but they never did.” He smiled at me again. “I understand they didn’t want to leave behind a granddaughter they’d grown to love.”
    “They stayed away for me?”
    He shrugged. “That’s what Ben told me. I believe he exchanged a few letters with his parents.”
    “I—I didn’t know that. He certainly never wrote to my father.”
    “Ben wouldn’t talk about his brother much. That was a closed subject.”
    The mention of my uncle’s name brought back the memory of that awful letter. “Sam, have you ever heard of a man named Jacob Glick?”
    Sam frowned. “Jacob Glick? Sounds familiar. I think Sweetie mentioned him once. Some really unpleasant man who used to live here. If I remember right, he moved away a long time ago, but I’m not sure. I could ask my aunt if you’d like.”
    “No. That’s okay. Just forget it.” I didn’t want Myrtle Goodrich involved any deeper in my life than she already was.
    I turned away to look out the window again. I could feel Sam’s eyes on me, probably wondering why I’d asked about Glick. I really didn’t want to think about him now. I was in Harmony, and I wanted to experience it without the specter of Glick or my dead uncle hanging over me. I tried to concentrate on the shops and people we passed, putting the letter out of my mind. But its presence hung on me like a heavy coat—not so easily shed.
    Sam pulled up in front of Mary’s Kitchen. The old two-story redbrick building looked as if it had existed almost as long as the town. Wooden beams held up the sloping porch roof. The second story windows were thin and topped by stone carvings that resembled intricate valances. Four white rockers sat on the front porch, two each in front of the wide glass windows that framed a bright red wooden door. Signs in the windows read OPEN and No SHOES, No SHIRT, No SERVICE. A menu was posted in one window and flyers from both of Harmony’s churches in the other.
    “There aren’t any wimpy city breakfasts here,” Sam said with a chuckle. “I hope you’re hungry.”
    Surprisingly, I was starving. There was something about the country air and the wonderful aromas drifting from the restaurant that stirred up memories of Mama Essie’s big Saturday breakfasts. We’d drive to Mama and Papa’s house every weekend and gorge on homemade pancakes with lots of butter and maple syrup. And spicy link sausages with crusty edges. Without warning, my mouth started to water. “I don’t think you need to worry about me. This morning I feel like I could eat my breakfast and yours.”
    Sam laughed and jumped out of the truck. I started to put my hand on the door latch, but before I had a chance to flip the handle, my door swung open. He stood waiting for me to get out of the truck. Add being a gentleman to his other great qualities. I flashed back briefly to my last several dates in town. Not one of my escorts had opened the car door for me. In fact, now that I thought about it, none of them had opened any doors for me. After I exited the truck, he hurried up the steps to the diner and held that door open, too. I could certainly get used to this kind of treatment.
    “Hey, Sam!” several patrons called out when we stepped inside. Burnished wood floors and wooden booths reminded me of an old diner in Fairbury that had never left behind its ’70s motif. A few tables sat against the front window. Stainless-steel legs with yellow laminate tops and matching chairs held the obligatory salt, pepper,