The Letters by Suzanne Woods Fisher Page A

stopped paying attention to details?”
    “Is that what Jake said?”
    Silence.
    “Why would you believe Jake?” she asked.
    “He gave us information in a deposition,” Allen Turner explained. “He was under oath.”
    Well, that’s the problem right there. Plain people don’t take oaths. They shouldn’t need them. Telling the truth isn’t optional. She was afraid it would sound like a deflection, a distraction from what he was after, and that wasn’t how she wanted to seem to Allen Turner. She wanted to convey animage of strength, of confidence, that she was sure Dean and Tobe would not have done something illegal—not intentionally.
    “When did your husband realize that there was a cash problem?”
    “When checks started bouncing and he discovered there was no money in the bank. Soon after that, he filed for bankruptcy. He needed protection from investors and he needed help from the bank to try to figure out what was going on. But he was always planning to make good on the principal investments. He didn’t declare bankruptcy to avoid anything. I have no doubt of that.” Dean had been adamant that declaring bankruptcy was the only choice—no one could go after them personally, they could only go after the assets of the company—the office, the land it was on, the office equipment. Still, she hated living with those debts over her head. Allen Turner said he was optimistic that up to fifty cents on the dollar could be returned to investors who made claims.
    But those claims, only about one fourth of the investors, came from non-Amish, non-Mennonite investors. The rest were all Plain folks who had put their trust in one of their own. What about them? she had asked Allen Turner. “If they aren’t willing to pursue the claim in court,” he said, “there’s nothing that can be done for them, legally.”
    And that was a burden, among others, that weighed on Rose. She was determined to pay every single person back the principle they had invested in Schrock Investments, even if it took her years and years. She felt responsible for these people.
    “Mrs. Schrock, it’s imperative that we find your stepson. Do you know where he could be? Any idea at all?”
    When he asked her that question, her heart started to race.Tobe was in danger, as surely as he was when he was a reckless young boy, doing foolish things like Luke did now—climbing to the tops of trees, teasing the goat. He thought he was invincible. “You’ve caught me unprepared,” she said. “I can’t think of anything. But I’ll try. I’ll . . . make a list.”
    Allen Turner said he would call again soon to see if she had any idea where he could be. “If you hear from him, you need to let me know.”
    As if she would need a reminder.
    When would it ever end? She threw the last towel into the rag pile and grabbed the empty box, startling Chase, the dog, into action. He sprang from sleeping by her feet and began to bark, then chased his tail. Watching that silly old dog act like a puppy made her lips tug in a smile. Maybe that is one of the reasons God gave us dogs , Rose thought, watching Chase spin in a circle. A gentle nudge from above to “hangeth thou in there,” even on days when you just feel like you’re only chasing your tail.

    Bethany lifted a large tray filled with dishes to take out to the dining area to a group of Rotary businessmen. Her friend Ivy had started their orders but needed to leave early today for a dentist appointment, so Bethany agreed to stay and finish up her section. She set up the tray and looked at Ivy’s orders to see how the meals should be served around the table: left to right was how they were taught. When she finished serving, she refilled coffee cups and water glasses, made sure everyone had serving utensils. Hopefully, this big table would guarantee generous tips. Not always, but usually.
    As she spun around to check the other tables in Ivy’s section,she noticed the unmistakable black felt hat of an