Once in the kitchen, he reached for her hand and kissed the back of it, his expression tender.

“Well, ain’t you all starry-eyed,” she said, baffled but secretly enjoying her husband’s attention.

The next day, after conducting several tours, Anna stopped by the Strasburg Market Place on the way home. Sadie had asked her to pick up some ground turmeric and basil.

Anna was happy to do what she could for dear Sadie, and as she parked and hurried into the store, she made a mental note to pick up a gallon of fresh apple cider as a surprise.

Inside, Anna reached for a shopping basket and was heading toward the baking aisle when she noticed Gabe over near the canned soups, scrutinizing a piece of paper. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him, and after a moment of indecision, she turned to head toward the next aisle instead.

“Anna,” he called to her. “What a nice surprise!”

She turned sheepishly. “Hullo, Gabe,” she said, eyeing the paper in his hand. “Looks like you’ve got your grocery list.”

“Oh, mostly ready-to-eat foods,” he said, flapping the paper. “Things I can warm up quickly, ya know.”

Anna recalled that he and Emmie had most of their meals at the Masts’.

“Where’s your list?” Gabe chuckled.

“Well, Sadie only wants a couple items, but she wants them in bulk containers.”

“Bulk items? Come, I’ll show ya where those are,” Gabe said, directing her to a different aisle and following alongside her even though she could have easily found it on her own.

He asked if she was still enjoying her tour guide work, and she nodded. “Each group is so different, which makes things fun!”

Gabe asked if she had discovered all the back-roads quilt shops and whatnot.

“I spent quite a lot of time tracking them down,” she replied. “Of course, the information center had a very helpful list for me, which was a great starting point.”

“Speaking of lists.” Gabe glanced at his. “Since I’m here, I should get some roasted almonds.”

Anna laughed softly. “My brother Wayne eats them by the handful.”

“Your brother has gut taste,” Gabe said, chuckling. “What’s your favorite snack?”

“Let’s see. I love stove-top popcorn with oodles of butter, salt, and cracked pepper. Oh, and a little sprinkle of Parmesan, too.”

“Sounds wunnerbaar-gut.” He grinned.

“My Mammi Eliza always made it like that, on a hot burner with plenty of oil,” Anna said, realizing they were blocking the aisle, where a young mother with a baby and a toddler in the cart wanted to pass. “She didn’t use the Parmesan and pepper, though.”

Gabe stepped back. “Excuse us,” he told the woman, who waved it off as not a problem, her expression a bit scrutinizing.

“Maybe you can make some on Friday when ya come.” Gabe’s eyes were bright with hope. “Okay?”