Although his back was still stiff and the short buggy ride into town the next morning seemed to rattle his bones, all discomfort was forgotten when Faith unlocked the back door for him. Her smile was a sunrise as she extended a steaming mug of coffee.
“Guder mariye, Hunter.”
“Guder mariye,” he echoed, his fingers momentarily encircling hers as he accepted the hot drink. “I’m glad to see you secured the door today.”
“Jah, I might be as stubborn as a mule, but may it never be said I’m foolhardy.” The glimmer in her eyes told him she was jesting at her own expense. There was something fetching about her ability to be lighthearted so early in the morning that lifted Hunter’s disposition, too. “Would you like a muffin with your kaffi?” she asked.
“Denki, I’d appreciate that.” Having skipped supper the night before, he was ravenous. “But I’ll have to eat it in the buggy. I want to allow time to stop at the printer’s on the way back and pick up your labels.”
When he arrived at the festival booth, the Englisch vendor greeted him enthusiastically. “I’m glad to see you brought more items today,” she said. “Your goodies sold out by eleven in the morning yesterday. I had several people stop by in the evening who said they’d eaten the cookies during the day at work and wanted to purchase some for their families. Faith ought to increase the volume even more than what I see here. My booth closes at six thirty, but there’s a big rush between about four and six o’clock, when people are getting out of work. You could make a second delivery for the late-afternoon shoppers, say, around three thirty? People are always drawn to goodies still warm from the oven.”
Hunter couldn’t have been more pleased. “That’s an interesting proposal. I’ll talk to Faith about it.”
By the time he picked up the labels, returned home, stabled the horse and walked back to town, Hunter had come up with a plan for how he could make an afternoon delivery in addition to his morning run. But since it was already four minutes before nine o’clock, he decided he’d propose his strategy to Faith during her dinner break.
So, while Pearl and Ivy ate their meals at a table in the front of the bakery, Hunter quietly repeated the vendor’s suggestion to Faith in the back room. “If you’d like me to make a second daily delivery, I figured out how to make it work. Ivy and Pearl could switch places in the afternoon. That way, Pearl would be available to help you with the extra baking for most of the day, but I wouldn’t have to leave Ivy unattended to make an afternoon delivery.”
“I don’t know...” Faith wrung her hands.
“If you’re hesitant about working with Ivy, you needn’t be. She’s very diligent. I realize she doesn’t like making changes, but she’s so fond of you I think she’d flourish here. And I can’t imagine Pearl objecting.” Hunter had to pause to catch his breath. “I truly believe this will put you in a much better position to make your down payment.”
“Well, then, let’s do it!” Faith exclaimed loudly, smiling so broadly her ears wiggled. “Of course, we’ll have to ask Pearl and Ivy first.”
“Ask us what?” Pearl called from the other room.
Faith and Hunter charged into the storefront, both speaking so excitedly they kept interrupting each other as they asked Pearl and Ivy to participate in their plan.
“I think it’s a splendid idea,” Pearl said. “What do you think, Ivy?”
“I’ll work in Faith Yoder’s bakery from three o’clock until five o’clock,” Ivy agreed. “A splendid idea.”
Hunter felt like hugging the girl. Instead, he silently thanked the Lord for how smoothly the plan was coming together. When he told Ruth about it, she was thrilled, too.
“I’ve been concerned Ivy isn’t being challenged enough in the cannery. A change will do her good. But it’s a waste of time for you to return home to fetch the buggy twice a day. It would be better to hitch the horse in town. You can take breaks to feed and water him there.”
“Are you sure?” Hunter asked. His frame was already aching from a single jaunt into town and he imagined it would only worsen when he began doubling his trips.
“I’m sure. It’s not as if your mamm and I need the buggy ourselves,” Ruth said. “I hope this plan pays off. I know how much Faith’s bakery means to her.”
Indeed, the first week of delivering baked goods twice daily to the festival proved even more lucrative than Hunter expected, benefiting them both, and Ivy adapted quickly to her new afternoon role at the bakery. All around, Hunter’s new partnership with Faith was what the Englisch referred to as a win-win situation. Or, as he preferred to think of it, an answer to prayer.
Chapter Seven
Faith yawned as she locked the front door to the bakery after Ivy left for the evening on Monday. For a week, Faith had been arriving ninety minutes earlier to keep up with baking for the in-store sales and her customers’ special orders, as well as for the festival. She figured Henrietta couldn’t fault her for not spending more time with her family in the morning, since everyone was still sleeping when she left for the bakery anyway. She tried to get home in time to help prepare supper, but there were some evenings, like tonight, when she had to stay late to clean the pans and utensils she didn’t have time to wash during the day.
She was rinsing the trays when someone rapped on the pane of the front door. A woman dressed in hospital scrubs cupped her hands against the glass and peered in, while a second woman continued knocking.
“Oh, thank you!” the first woman, a blonde, exclaimed when Faith opened the door. “We were afraid we missed you.”
Faith regretted turning away customers, even after hours, but her shelves were nearly bare. “I’m sorry, but the bakery is actually closed and I’m sold out of almost everything,” she said.
“I’m not surprised,” the blonde replied. “We purchased one of your sticky bun wreaths at the festival on our way to work today, and it was so fantastic we wanted to come by on our way home to see what else you make. We’d like to place a large order for brunch on Friday.”
“Yeah,” the other woman added, “your husband suggested we give you a call, but we wanted to sample a few items before deciding what to get.”
“My husband?” Faith echoed. “I don’t have a husband.”
The first woman replied, “The man making deliveries isn’t your husband? Sorry, he raved so much about you I just assumed you were newlyweds.”
Faith felt as if her skin burst into flame. Waving her hand dismissively, she said, “Ah, well, you know how men enjoy food. They’re very complimentary when it comes to a woman’s baking.”
“It wasn’t just your baking he complimented,” the woman insisted. “What was it he said when he was giving us directions, Rita?”
The other woman sighed theatrically. “He said there may be several businesses with the name ‘Yoder’s’ in Lancaster County, but we’d know we were in the right shop if the owner had hair the color of ground cinnamon and a wunderbaar laugh.”
Faith’s knees felt wiggly. Did Hunter really say that? She invited the women inside and served them samples of the freshest items still in stock. After helping them decide what to order for their party and sending them off with a complimentary loaf of bread that would have wound up in her brothers’ bellies, she returned to her dishwashing task.
Denki, Lord, that everything seems to be working out, Faith prayed as she slid a tray into the rack to dry. Her cookies, breads and pastries were selling out daily at the festival. Meanwhile, Pearl and Ivy had adjusted well to the changes; Pearl claimed she preferred the relatively slower afternoons in the cannery, whereas Ivy was flourishing in her new role at the bakery.
What especially gladdened Faith was seeing Hunter’s face first thing in the morning. No matter how early the hour or biting the air, he always wore a dashing grin and he was appreciative of the coffee she prepared for him to take on his deliveries. One morning she even co
nvinced him to sit down for a breakfast of French toast topped with pecans, since she knew how much he liked them. Other than Pearl, she’d never had someone express such an active interest in the success of her business, and she wanted him to know she appreciated his support. It didn’t hurt that she thoroughly enjoyed his company, either.
When Faith finished washing the dishes, she double-checked the storefront and back room for any last-minute tidying. The following day was Tuesday, December 8, and the bakery and cannery would be closed so she, Pearl, Ivy and Hunter could attend Penelope and Lawrence’s wedding in Penelope’s hometown. The occasion would begin with a three-hour service in the morning, followed by meals and socializing lasting until nine or ten o’clock at night. It was an Amish tradition for businesses—and even schools—to shut down so all the leit could attend the weddings of couples in their districts, which were held on Tuesdays or Thursdays during November and December. Confident nothing was left undone, Faith locked the shop and made it home just in time for supper.
“Are you certain you want to charge Penelope for the wedding cakes?” Henrietta asked Faith later that evening while hemming a seam in her son’s trousers.
Ever since Willa left, Henrietta seemed more focused on Faith’s work at the bakery. She was continually asking Faith about her orders and making suggestions about what Christmas goodies the customers might enjoy. Faith appreciated her interest, but Henrietta couldn’t seem to understand that some traditional Amish items, such as skillet pear ginger pie, weren’t in demand enough to be worth preparing them.
“Why shouldn’t I charge Penelope for the cakes? She’s a customer like anyone else.”
While Amish weddings often included homemade pies, cakes and goodies prepared by family members and friends, it wasn’t unusual for the bride to purchase one or more cakes from a professional baker, too. Although the cakes were plainer than those at most Englisch weddings, they were still special-ordered for the occasion.
“Jah, but you’re friends with the bride and especially the groom,” Henrietta argued. “You were walking out with Lawrence, after all.”
That’s the very reason I shouldn’t bake their cake at no cost, Faith thought facetiously as she adorned the fireplace mantel with boughs of evergreen and a solitary red candle in the center. Ornate Christmas decorations were prohibited by the Ordnung, but simple garnishing was allowed in Amish homes and businesses, and Faith relished creating a festive environment for her family and customers to enjoy at this time of year.
“Reuben is friends with Turner King, but when Reuben’s buggy needs repair, Turner doesn’t fix it for free,” Faith countered, trying to help Henrietta see her decision from a business perspective. “Likewise, Reuben doesn’t stock the Masts’ pantry with free produce during harvest season simply because you’re friends with Colette.”
“Jah, but Reuben and Turner are men. Their incomes are necessities—they support their families,” Henrietta reasoned.
“My income will allow me to keep the bakery and lease a living space for myself,” Faith said as calmly as she could.
“But that’s not essential. You could always live here. Either way, a few wedding cakes aren’t likely to set you back. It seems you could be a little more gracious to your friends, that’s all.”
“A little more gracious?” Faith sputtered, twirling toward Henrietta. “Do you have any idea how much graciousness it takes to attend the wedding of a man who rejected me because of something that’s not even my fault?”
Her sister-in-law peered at Faith over her reading glasses as if she couldn’t quite fathom what was causing her to be so distressed. Faith lowered her volume. She didn’t want to speak in anger: she wanted Henrietta to understand how she felt and to stop interfering in her business.
“Listen, Henrietta, not only am I closing the bakery to attend Penelope and Lawrence’s wedding—which means I’ll lose a full day’s worth of business during the busiest season of the year—but as a gift to the couple, I gave Penelope a steep discount. She only paid for whatever ingredients I didn’t have in stock, such as coconut milk for the special frosting she requested. So please, show me a little graciousness. If you can’t support me, at least don’t lecture me on how to run my business or conduct my friendships. I know you intend to be helpful, but sometimes your comments are actually quite hurtful.”
When Henrietta didn’t reply, Faith simply bid her good-night and went upstairs to her room. She had never spoken to her sister-in-law so firmly, but she wasn’t going to apologize. Not tonight, anyway. Too tired to undress, she unlaced her boots and collapsed into bed, pulling the quilt over her sideways. Covering her head with her arm, she nestled into her pillow and before she knew it, her nephew was jostling her awake.
“Mamm said I’m not to bother you, Ant Faith,” the five-year-old announced in a raspy voice. “You need privacy to get ready for your wedding.”
Faith groggily opened her eyes to discover she was nose to nose with the chubby youngster. “Lappich bu,” she said, affectionately referring to him as a silly boy as she reached out to touch his ruddy cheek. “It’s not my wedding we’re going to.”
“Why not?” He tipped his head and squinted. “Don’t you want to have a wedding?”
His innocent curiosity caught her off guard, and she tried to distract him by tossing aside the quilt and shifting to a sitting position.
“Not today I don’t,” she answered succinctly.
“But when you get married, you get your own special cake.”
The boy’s sentiment caused Faith to burst out in laughter. “Jah, that’s true, Andy, but when you get married, you’re also pleased to share your special cake with your wedding guests. You’ll see—today you’ll get a slice.”
“I will?” His enormous eyes seemed to grow even larger.
“There you are, Andrew,” Henrietta called as she peeked around the divider. “Kumme, let your ant get dressed while I comb your hair.”
“Guder mariye, Henrietta,” Faith said as she rose, hoping there was no lingering tension between them. “I must have been more tired than I realized. I rarely sleep past sunrise.”
“Jah, it’s half-past the hour. We’ll be leaving in five minutes.”
“Five minutes!” Faith shrieked. “I only have five minutes to get ready?”
Henrietta flinched as if she’d been hurt. “I thought you were waiting to get up and get ready until we were all out of your way and you could have the washroom to yourself. I was trying not to interfere. I assumed Hunter would be picking you up shortly after we left.”
Although she believed Henrietta had her best intentions at heart, Faith was too dismayed about being late to mince words. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m not romantically involved with Hunter Schwartz,” Faith said with an emphasis she hoped was convincing, “And he is not picking me up, so I’ll need to go with you and Reuben and the kinner.”
She grabbed a pair of stockings from her drawer, whisked her clean dress from the closet and then hurried down the hall to the washroom to try to make herself appear more presentable on the outside than she felt on the inside.
* * *
Hunter shifted on the long, hard bench. He felt as fidgety as a child, but he couldn’t sit still; the knot of pain in his lower back and hips was radiating downward, causing his left foot to tingle. He’d noticed his discomfort grew progressively worse ever since he began the afternoon deliveries, and he regretted making the long journey to Penelope’s house on the one day he could have had a respite from traveling in the buggy. But Ruth had come down with a bad cold and she insisted he attend to extend her good wishes to the young couple. His mother stayed behind, too.
If there was one consolation, it was that the wedding allowed Hunter the opportunity to socialize with Faith. Over the past week, he’d enjoyed bantering with her first thing in the morning before he headed to Piney Hill, o
r lingering over a treat in the back room of the bakery before he left for the festival in the afternoon. But their visits were always briefer than he would have preferred and their conversations were usually focused on their businesses. He was hoping the late-afternoon wedding festivities would include the kind of fun and games he’d engaged in with Faith and her brothers when he took her home after Thanksgiving dinner.
By the time the three-hour service ended, Hunter could barely pull himself to his feet. He picked up the wooden bench and stiffly hobbled toward where the men were stacking them so a second group could carry them to the bench wagon. If this were a regular worship service, they’d flip and stack the benches to create tables for the leit to gather around to eat dinner. But since it was a wedding, the guests would eat in shifts at special tables the men were setting up in a U shape around the gathering room.
Hunter hoped no one noticed how haltingly he moved, and as soon as the men’s work was finished, he slipped outside to pace around the yard, hoping to loosen his muscles before it was his turn to sit down to eat. The wind was raw, and he rubbed his hands together. On his third loop around the perimeter, a small child came bounding across the yard.
“Andy!” he heard a female beckon remotely. “Andy, you stop wherever you are right now. This isn’t a game. We’re not playing tag!”
The child giggled and continued to run pell-mell toward where Hunter was standing. Despite the ache in his lower body, Hunter bent over and adroitly scooped the boy up, somersaulting him into a sitting position on his right shoulder. A moment later, Faith appeared from around the side of the large house. Her shawl was askew and her cheeks were aflame, whether from the cold or from emotion, Hunter didn’t know.
“Is this the runaway you’re looking for?” he asked as he flipped Andy upside down and set him back on his feet.
“Jah, this is my nephew Andy,” she panted. “Andy, say hello to Hunter.”
Andy looked up in awe at Hunter. “You’re even stronger than my daed!” he declared.
An Amish Holiday Wedding (Amish Country Courtships Book 3) Page 10
