Zeke spun a stalk of hay between his fingers. "I know I resisted getting married at first—"
"We all did," Devon said.
"Not me." Ezra leaned back and smirked.
"—but Perry has taken avoiding women to the next level." Zeke shook his head. "I'm starting to wonder—"
"If there's something wrong with him," Zeb finished.
"He's fine," Nelson said. "He just hasn't met—"
"The right woman." The twins spoke in precise unison.
"Someone should at least warn him," Devon pointed out.
"I nominate Jesse." Elam grinned.
Jesse balked. "Hey—"
"All in favor, say aye," Zeb said.
"Aye." Nine voices rang out in the cavernous barn.
"Now wait just a minute," Jesse said, scowling. "Don't I get a vote?"
"Nee," they all said together.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll give him a heads-up."
"Glad that's settled." Devon opened the barn door. A cool spring breeze blew inside, stirring the hay on the dirt floor. "We're starting to sound like a hen party." All but Jesse and Nelson followed him out the door.
"Do you really think we should get involved in this?" Jesse asked.
Nelson glanced at him. "What do you mean, we? You're the one who's going to talk to him."
"Ya, but things are never that simple. Not when it comes to our familye."
Nelson sighed. "True. Well, all you have to do is tell him about Mamm's letters. Then let him handle the rest."
They headed out of the barn. "You're right," Jesse said. "Perry can take care of himself."
Nelson nodded. "For his sake, I sure hope so."
CHAPTER ONE
Mid-April
Dover, Delaware
"Did you enjoy the pot roast, Maynard?" Daisy Hershberger perched on the edge of the couch, waiting for him to lower the newspaper in front of his face and answer her.
"Uh-huh." Seated in a comfortable chair across from her, he crossed his legs and turned the page.
A cozy fire crackled in the wood fireplace, and the scents of the supper Daisy had spent the afternoon making lingered in the air. Everything had been done from scratch, down to the yeasty rolls and flaky pie pastry. She loved cooking, and she'd heard one time that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, or something like that. Maynard ate every crumb, but he was so quiet and reserved, she still wasn't sure if he enjoyed the meal.
She glanced at the wicker basket on the floor near the sofa where she kept her cross-stitch supplies—aida cloth, a case of colorful embroidery floss, several wooden hoops in various sizes, a packet of needles, and tiny scissors. Her current project was a scripture verse for her older sister's birthday, and she was almost finished. In fact, she could wrap it up tonight if she went back to work on it while Maynard read the paper.
While she liked the coziness of them being together, basking in the warmth of the living room fireplace inside the house she lived in with her parents, her mind wasn't on cross-stitch, and she didn't want Maynard to read the paper. She wanted him to sit next to her on the couch—the closer the better. Even though her parents were in the kitchen playing checkers and could walk in at any time, she yearned for him to put his arm around her and kiss her on the temple or—gasp!—on the cheek. If her parents saw, so be it. It wasn't exactly a secret that she liked, nay loved, Maynard Miller.
Except, apparently, to him.
Daisy sighed and waited for him to notice her frustrated exhale.
