The Courtship Plan


 
 
 
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Contents
 Prologue
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Chapter 3
 Chapter 4
 Chapter 5
 Chapter 6
 Chapter 7
 Chapter 8
 Chapter 9
 Chapter 10
 Chapter 11
 Chapter 12
 Chapter 13
 Chapter 14
 Chapter 15
 Chapter 16
 Chapter 17
 Chapter 18
 Chapter 19
 Chapter 20
 Chapter 21
 Chapter 22
 Epilogue
 Discussion Questions
 Acknowledgments
 Glossary
 About the Author
 Acclaim for Kathleen Fuller
 Other Books by Kathleen Fuller
 Copyright
 
 
 
 
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 Guide
 
 Cover
 Contents
 Prologue
 
 
 
 
 Dedication
 
 
 To James. I love you.
 
 
 
 
 
 Prologue
 
 
 Birch Creek, Ohio
 
 Where is he?
 
 Charity Raber checked the clock on the wall of Diener’s Diner and huffed. Ten minutes late. He’s going to stand me up. I just know it.
 
 She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to panic. Just because she’d been stood up before—more
 than once, by more than one guy—didn’t mean she would be today.
 
 
 Be positive! Be confident! She’d repeated those two phrases this morning as she chose her most positive and confident outfit—a light-green short-sleeved
 dress that matched her eyes and a pristine white kapp reserved for church service only. Not only was she dressed for success, she was ready for it.
 
 
 After a second or two, she opened her eyes and stared at the empty seat opposite her. She didn’t feel positive. Or confident.
 Not even close.
 
 
 Desperate to distract her doubt-filled mind, she straightened the silverware on her right. Moved the menu in front of her an inch to the left. Wiped off the drop of condensation sliding down the side of her iced tea glass. All the while she tried to ignore the blend of Amish and English voices surrounding her, hoping no one would notice how long she’d been sitting alone at the booth. 
 
 She fought the urge to glance at the clock again. Folding her hands together, she stared straight ahead at the front door
 while warm, mid-May sunshine beamed through the window beside her.
 
 
 Staring. Straight . . . ahead . . .
 
 Her gaze flicked to the clock again. Only two minutes had passed? Phooey.
 
 “Ready to order?”
 
 She glanced up at Norene Yoder, one of three Amish waitresses working the lunch shift. Charity had interviewed for a waitress
 job at Diener’s a month ago. By then she’d lived in Birch Creek for nearly a year, and her savings were almost depleted. She
 wasn’t hired here or at the other two jobs she’d applied for—counter help at Yoder’s Bakery and a clerk at the fabric store
 in Barton. “I’m sorry,” each employer said after the interview. “I don’t think you’d be a good fit.” What did that even mean?
 
 
 Norene was hired less than a week after she’d moved to Birch Creek in April. Charity was still looking for employment. Double phooey. Life was so easy for some people.
 
 
 “Did you hear me?” Norene asked.
 
 “I heard you,” Charity muttered, her gaze aimed at the front door. “And no, I’m not ready to order yet.” No reason to elaborate
 further. Her business wasn’t Norene’s business.
 
 
 “Still waiting on yer friend?”
 
 
 “I’m waiting on my date.”
 
 
 Norene arched a pale-blond, perfectly shaped eyebrow, her silver eyes alight with curiosity. “You have a date? We live across
 the hall from each other and you never said a word.”
 
 
 Norene was one of the prettiest women Charity had ever seen, and she’d seen plenty since her arrival in Birch Creek. The town ebbed and flowed with single women from all over the country who had answered the same newspaper advertisement stating that Birch Creek was jam-packed with eligible bachelors. She couldn’t recall the exact wording, but it was clear from the text that single men in this community were yearning for single women . . .