Morning Star

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “And who knows?” said Martha Maude. “Saul could park a wagon or two, or a buggy, here. A lot of English folks use farm wagons like we build in the carriage factory, after all, but they seldom come in to see what we Amish have to offer.”

  Gracie’s face lit up as she grabbed her mammi’s hand. “And Dawdi could give the kids rides in his special carriages!” she sang out. “And I could ride up on top while he was drivin’!”

  Everyone chuckled at the little girl’s exuberance—but Jo could envision Gracie’s idea as a big attraction on special days. Ordinary Plain buggies, farm wagons, and courting buggies were the bread and butter of Hartzler Carriage Company, but Saul also built very ornamental, specialized vehicles for theme parks and businesses that offered horse-drawn carriage rides around historic areas of their towns.

  “That would be great fun, Gracie!” Jo said as the little girl hopped and whirled in circles around them. “This stable has given us a lot of inspiration—and denki, Glenn, for taking charge of our interior,” she added. “It’s going to be wonderful!”

  “See where those red rags are tied?” he asked, gesturing toward the far side of the building. “I’ve marked off a space that’s twenty by twenty. That’ll be about right for my own shop—but how about for your kitchen area, Jo? And your quilt shop, Martha Maude?”

  They crossed the concrete floor to the area Glenn had measured out. Jo tried to imagine ovens, a sink, and a refrigerator in place, as well as storage for her equipment and glass display cases for her baked goods. “I think this’ll work for me if I make efficient use of the space,” she said.

  “And if we double this area in the corner, we’ll have plenty of room to hang quilts,” Martha Maude replied.

  “If you need more display space for your goodies, Jo, you could put them on rolling shelves that you wheel out in front of your bakery,” Rose suggested.

  Jo nodded, trying not to become overwhelmed by the planning she had to do—and the equipment she’d need to purchase—in the next few weeks. “We all have a lot of ideas spinning in our heads now, ain’t so?”

  The zap-zap-zap of nail guns reverberated inside the stable as the men on the roof resumed their work, so the women took that as their cue to return to the wagons. Jo heard Riley barking again. As she followed the dog’s progress toward the front gate, a couple of men she didn’t recognize were approaching in a buggy.

  “Do we need to ask Pete to keep his dog at home?” she asked her companions.

  When the long-legged passenger of the buggy hopped down to play with Riley, however, Jo felt relieved that he hadn’t been put off by the dog’s ruckus. He was a nice-looking young man, slender yet muscular—and when the driver stepped down from the buggy, it was immediately apparent that they were father and son.

  “Ah, it’s the Wengerds!” Martha Maude said as she hurried in their direction. “Nelson and Michael, welcome! It’s gut you could come today!”

  “These guys own the nursery over near Queen City,” Jo explained to Rose. They followed Martha Maude, who was gesturing toward the wagons where the refreshments had been laid out.

  “We still have some goodies left—and lunch will arrive around noon,” Martha Maude was saying. “Please help yourselves and we’ll show you around. This is Rose Wagler—and Jo Fussner, who’s managing The Marketplace. Jo, Nelson and Michael Wengerd have come to look things over.”

  Jo nodded at the two men, immediately liking their cordial smiles. “And this is my mother, Drusilla Fussner, who baked some of that coffee cake you see.”

  Mamm had been following the conversation with her usual scrutiny. She nodded at the Wengerds. “I’m surprised you fellows left your nursery on this fine Saturday. I’d think your store would be very busy now that spring’s set in.”

  “You’ve got that right, Drusilla,” Nelson said. When he smiled, dimples and laugh lines bracketed his mouth. “We wanted to see the stable today while it’s open, so we left our assistants in charge.”

  “Ah. Your wife and daughters, no doubt,” Mamm remarked.

  Jo sighed. Would the Wengerds think her mother was impossibly nosy?

  The men’s faces fell a bit, however. “No, my Verna went to be with her Lord a couple of years ago,” Nelson replied softly. “My daughter, Salome, married and moved to Ohio to live with her husband’s family. We have a couple of young folks from our church who work for us through the busiest months.”

  “Well, we’re glad you’ve come today,” Jo put in quickly, “and we’re really glad you’ll have flowers and vegetables to sell with us.”

  “Can’t you picture the stable with its new black roof and black shutters, along with a fresh coat of rustic red paint—and window boxes of your colorful flowers?” Martha Maude asked as she gestured toward the building. “We think it’ll be a big draw for folks passing by on the highway.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Nelson said. “We plan to bring hanging baskets, as well—”

  “And we’ll plant some flower beds around the building as soon as we know what the other plans for the grounds are,” Michael added. “It’s great that there’s so much room for parking, and that we’re outside of town where there won’t be a lot of traffic noise. Morning Star’s a bigger, busier city than I expected!”

  Jo nodded. “It’s basically an English town where we Amish and some Mennonites have found some affordable farmland to settle on,” she said.

  Nelson was studying the property immediately around the stable. “If possible, I’d like to position our flowers on the side of the building facing the road, and have space inside for selling gardening supplies and seeds,” he said, pointing toward the end of the building. “Do you suppose I can use that door on the end? And have our shop space right inside there?”

  “I’ll write you into the floor plan,” Jo said happily. “Nobody’s spoken for space on that end yet.”

  Nelson’s face lit up, and he looked years younger, pleased that his requests were already being granted. “What shall we plant in those window boxes to make them pop, Drusilla? What are your favorite summer flowers?”

  Mamm looked stunned. Jo, too, was surprised at Nelson’s question—and secretly pleased that he’d managed to stump her mother.

  “Well, you can’t go wrong with geraniums,” Mamm replied after a moment.

  The Wengerds were both nodding. “The boxes will be in full sunlight,” Michael pointed out, “so how about some white geraniums, purple petunias, and bright green sweet potato and vinca vines to hang down a bit—and big yellow and orange marigolds?”

  Mamm blinked. “Sounds awfully flashy for a Plain—”

  “A rainbow!” Jo blurted out. She was delighted that the nurserymen wanted to put such bright colors in their boxes, because her mother would’ve stopped with the geraniums.

  “And if we build a pergola near the building for the hanging baskets, that’ll give us more display space so customers can select what they’d like—and more color to attract folks from the road,” Michael suggested.

  Jo wasn’t sure what a pergola was, but she really liked the way these men were thinking. “We’ll have some wood you can use for that pergola after we dismantle some of the stalls inside the stable,” she said. “Let’s go inside so you can meet Glenn. He’s remodeling the interior for us, so he—or our other foreman, Pete Shetler—can build whatever structures you’d like, once they’ve finished remodeling the stable.”

  As the rest of the morning passed, Jo was gratified by the sense of teamwork and excitement everyone shared. The Wengerds met people easily and talked with Glenn and the other men over Rose’s chili and the creamy chicken and noodles the Helfing twins brought for the men’s lunch. Delores Flaud and her girls stopped by with large bowls of fruit salad and coleslaw. Lenore Otto provided pies and a fresh urn of hot coffee, while Lydianne brought a big chocolate cake. Regina furnished wet wipes and trash bags, and she cleaned up after everyone ate.

  By the time Pete and his men shut down their air compressors that a
fternoon, the stable’s roof was covered with fresh black shingles. Glenn and his crew had removed the stall posts and gates, so they were ready to construct the basic skeleton of the shop area. Folks went home with a real sense of accomplishment.

  “Let’s stop at the bulk store for a few things,” Mamm said as she took her place on the wagon seat beside Jo. “I’ve spent my whole day here, so I have no idea what we’ll have for supper—or what to cook for tomorrow’s meals, either.”

  Jo suppressed a sigh as she urged the horse forward. Her mother complained anytime her routine was interrupted, so her remark about cooking was probably the first of many to come. And Mamm seemed to forget that she wasn’t the only capable cook in the family.

  “Tell you what,” Jo said as they turned onto the county highway. “I’ll spring for supper in town, and we’ll order enough extra food to take home for tomorrow. I’m celebrating how far we moved toward making a dream come true today!”

  Mamm’s glance was doubtful. “I’m glad this marketplace thing is your project and not mine! It could turn into a nightmare mighty fast if—”

  “But what if The Marketplace becomes the best new thing Morning Star has seen in a long time?” Jo countered quickly. “Do you think Martha Maude and Glenn—and the Wengerds—would invest their time and effort if they didn’t believe we’d succeed?”

  Mamm looked off into the distance, temporarily silenced. When they’d parked at the Mennonite bulk store, they went inside and Mamm grabbed a grocery cart.

  “Go ahead and start your shopping,” Jo said. “I want to check the bulletin board.”

  After her mother headed down the produce aisle, Jo went to the corkboard that was covered with notices about upcoming events and items that were for sale. She immediately spotted a colorful sheet of paper with a photo of the stable on it. COMING SOON—THE MARKETPLACE! AMISH SHOPS AND LOCAL SPECIALTIES!

  The stable photo had been enhanced with flower boxes and lush green grass—computer magic that made Jo even more enthusiastic about how wonderful Morning Star’s new shopping area would be. Martha Maude had obviously instructed the printer to drum up excitement with the poster, and her heart was beating faster just from looking at it.

  Another notice caught her eye, too. CAFÉ GOING OUT OF BUSINESS. MUST SELL ALL EQUIPMENT. The list included ovens, sinks, dishwashers—all the items Jo needed for her new bakery to be in compliance with the health department. The address was in Higher Ground, just a few miles down the road, so she dug a scrap of paper from her purse and jotted down the phone number.

  Jo had no idea how she would pay for such equipment—and maybe it would be too large for her shop area—yet she sensed that God’s hand had led her to the bulk store to find the sale notice. He had a way of providing what His children needed when they called on Him.

  In her mind, Jo heard Bishop Jeremiah’s voice. If you don’t ask, you probably won’t receive. If you don’t knock, who will know to open the door for you?

  “You’ve got it right, Bishop,” she murmured as she caught up to her mother. “It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to.”

  Chapter Eight

  Two weeks later, Regina was amazed at how much had been accomplished at the stable. She’d been avoiding the work site so no one could quiz her about her mysterious artist friend—and because she’d been painting late into the evenings. Her fingers had been afire, as though a new and wonderful inspiration was prodding her to produce more pictures for her shop. She’d even painted the name of her store—NatureScapes—on an artsy, irregular piece of wood from the furniture factory’s scrap box. She planned to hang it above the doorway.

  “Can you believe how well everything’s falling together?” Jo asked as Regina approached the center of the stable. “Next week at this time, we’ll be open for business!”

  “It looks awesome,” Regina agreed as she gazed around. The shops were separated by open, slatted walls that resembled horse stalls, and they were painted a fresh shade of ivory. The flooring was imitation hardwood, and the stable’s tall interior walls were painted a warm shade of beige. “The colors in here are quaint and homey,” she remarked, “and they won’t detract from the items we’re selling,”

  “Come see my kitchen!” Jo said, grabbing Regina’s elbow. “Pete and Glenn installed my equipment yesterday evening.”

  Regina waved at the Hartzler women, who were helping Glenn arrange long quilt poles on their walls. Gabe and his dat were pulling a cart loaded with tables and chairs through the double entry door, and the Helfing twins were painting the shelves in the shop next to Jo’s.

  “Who made your sign, Jo?” she asked, smiling up at the simple wooden oval with FUSSNER BAKERY carved into it.

  “Glenn did. Isn’t he just the handiest woodworker?” Jo replied happily. “And would you believe I found all this equipment at a little restaurant in Higher Ground? The owners wanted to liquidate everything quickly, so it only cost me half what I would’ve paid for new pieces.”

  Regina’s eyes widened. Two lighted glass cases formed an attractive countertop. Behind it, a large stainless steel refrigerator stood against one wall, a deep sink was positioned near a dishwasher, and two ovens sat side by side opposite the fridge. Roller tables, stacks of baking pans, and other kitchen equipment were waiting to be put into place. This kitchen was far more efficient and modern than the one Jo and her mother had at home.

  “Wow,” Regina whispered as she stepped behind the glass cases for a closer look. “Your appliances look brand-new—and they’re all electric.”

  “Jah, Bishop Jeremiah was okay with that because of the sanitation requirements—and because they’re connected to our solar panels, with electrical backup,” Jo explained. “Please don’t tell Mamm, but I borrowed the money from the church to buy this stuff. Jeremiah and the preachers agreed to let me repay the loan each week from my sales.”

  “It’s not as though any of us would have enough money out of pocket to buy all this,” Regina remarked. “And think of the possibilities for family gatherings and parties now, because you’ve provided folks a kitchen.”

  “That’s the way Deacon Saul sees it, too—as an opportunity for more income.” Jo grinned like a little kid at Christmas as she stood in the center of her new shop. “It’s all falling into place, Regina—which makes me believe The Marketplace was meant to be. We five maidels were in the right place at the right time that Sunday afternoon we spotted the FOR SALE sign on the fence.”

  As Regina carried bins of her watercolor pictures into her shop, she thought about what Jo had said. If she and her friends had made good on a timely business opportunity, was it God’s will that she should sell her paintings now?

  You know that’s not the way the Amish church sees it!

  Sighing over the tug-of-war she’d had with her conscience the past few weeks, Regina began displaying her pictures on the back wall of her shop. Using little wads of poster putty on the upper corners of each sheet wasn’t very professional, yet it seemed the most practical way to display groupings of unframed paintings—and it would be very easy to put up new pictures whenever she’d sold some. The pale beige wall at the back of her shop brought out the colors of nature in her paintings, and she became so caught up in arranging them that she didn’t realize someone was standing behind her.

  “These paintings look even better on the walls than they did at the meeting, Red.”

  Regina nearly jumped out of her skin before turning to face Gabe. “I—I was thinking the same thing,” she stammered. “You scared the daylights out of me.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your concentration.” Gabe stepped over to look at the pictures she’d already hung. “I still think your artist friend should be here next week for our grand opening. What was his name again? I’d like to meet him.”

  Regina’s heart pounded. She reminded herself to be calm, to give the responses she’d practiced so carefully at home. “His name’s Hartley Fox—and besides being really shy, like I
told you before, he has trouble getting around,” she explained. “He—he’s confined to a wheelchair, and his health issues keep him at home. Painting keeps him from going crazy.”

  “Ah. Artistic therapy, eh?” Gabe stepped closer to study a painting of a pair of mallard ducks. “His colors and brush strokes are amazing. This drake looks like he ought to fly right off the pond.”

  Regina focused on hanging pictures, hoping Gabe didn’t notice her shaky hands. His praise was music for her soul to dance to, even if his nearness—and the way he studied her work so closely—was nerve-racking. She’d never dreamed that her shop foreman, a member of the Old Order, would have an interest in anything artistic.

  She searched for a safer topic of conversation. “Did I see you and your dat bringing in tables and chairs for the entryway area? How’d they turn out?”

  “Dat’s really gung ho about them,” Gabe replied with a chuckle. “He and I spent several hours putting them together so they’d be ready in time. I think he intends to be Jo’s first customer when her shop opens Saturday morning, so he can sit at one of the tables with coffee and treats, watching the customers come in.”

  Regina smiled. “That might be a gut idea, so our shoppers know they’re welcome to do that.”

  “Huh. I just noticed that Fox doesn’t sign his work.”

  Regina’s hands froze on a picture of a chipmunk. Just as she knew art for art’s sake was a forbidden hobby for an Amish woman, she believed that signing her work was prideful—it would be yet another black mark against her, the way Old Order folks would see it. And it just seemed dangerous, having her name on so many forbidden paintings.

  She cleared her throat, stalling. What would Hartley give as an answer?

  It occurred to her that playing dumb was the most appropriate response for an Amish maidel. “Was he supposed to put his name on these?” Regina asked with a shrug. “I have no idea why he didn’t.”