At long last, Nelson cleared his throat. “Michael and I made a couple of evergreen wreaths for you ladies,” he said patiently. “I suppose if you don’t want them, we can sell them at—”
“What a thoughtful gift—and denki for thinking of us!” Jo put in before her mother could refuse Nelson’s offer. “I’ve been so busy baking lately, I haven’t had a chance to cut any greenery, so we’ll really enjoy the fresh scent of your wreaths.”
Michael flashed her a quick smile as he cut into his venison. “We get a lot of our evergreen pieces from an English friend’s Christmas tree farm, so we also brought you a few extra sprigs of pine to put on your mantel—if you want them,” he added quickly.
Jo’s heartbeat quickened. Knowing that he’d been thinking of her this past week, planning little gifts, was a whole new sensation—a rush she could get used to. “Maybe after supper—after the dishes are cleaned up,” she added with a glance at Mamm, “I could get the Christmas candles and the Nativity set out of the closet. We could arrange the greenery around those, and the whole house will feel like Christmas!”
Her mother’s brow furrowed. “When did you figure on wrapping all those cookies, Josephine? It’s none of my concern if they get stale before you take them to your shop, but—”
“Now there’s a job I’d like to help with!” Nelson piped up with a chuckle. “If our favorite baker spots some cookies that are less than perfect, there’ll probably be a few that don’t get packaged—”
“Or we can buy a plateful this evening instead of waiting until tomorrow,” Michael suggested. “By afternoon on a busy day at The Marketplace, I’m ready for something sweet—”
“But Jo’s cookies will be gone if we wait until then to latch onto some. Gut point, son.” Nelson’s face lit up with a smile. “You can select our goodies while I help Drusilla clean up the kitchen.”
The conversation had bounced like a ball, and Mamm had been following it with a deepening scowl. “So now you’re buying Jo’s attention—buttering her up by paying for cookies when—”
“No, Drusilla, we’re buying cookies,” Nelson corrected gently. “It’s your attention I’m trying for, and I’m having to work pretty hard at it. Why is that? What have I done to make you so suspicious of me?”
Mamm’s jaw dropped. For once, someone had called her out about her negative attitude, and she had no response. Frustration simmered in the glare she shot Nelson, but she focused on her food rather than answering his questions.
Jo took a big bite of carrots to keep from laughing, which would only upset her mother further. Truth be told, she was eager to hear Mamm’s answers, because Nelson and his son had been nothing but nice to her in the months they’d been staying in the dawdi haus.
For the remainder of the meal, Jo and the Wengerds talked about the flurry of business they anticipated at The Marketplace the next day. She was pleased that several merchants around Morning Star’s business district had ordered poinsettias and wreaths and that Michael would spend part of Saturday morning delivering them.
“Sounds like it was worth your time and effort to invest in those new greenhouses,” she remarked as they finished their meal. “I’m glad all that extra work is paying off for you now.”
Michael’s eyes twinkled as though he wanted to repeat his invitation to visit those greenhouses. “All those extra poinsettias have also given us a reason to keep coming to Morning Star through the winter,” he said softly.
“Jah, as long as the roads stay clear, I’m looking forward to our weekly trips,” Nelson agreed. “Not just because of the extra sales, but because of the special friends we’ve made here.”
Mamm took that remark as her cue to scrape the plates. Jo sighed, hoping their guests didn’t take offense at her mother’s abrupt, abrasive behavior. When Nelson went to the sink to run the dishwater, the stunned expression on Mamm’s face was priceless. And when he shooed Jo and Michael out to start boxing up her cookies, Jo didn’t argue.
“I’m sorry Mamm’s such a prickly pear tonight,” she murmured when they’d crossed the front room. “Let me get my pans and plastic bags and disposable plates. I want to package some of these cookies for individual sales, and we’ll arrange the rest of them in big pans for my baking cases.”
When she returned to the coffee table, Michael was studying the cookies intently. “These took a lot of time to decorate. I hope you’re charging enough for your work, Jo.”
She chuckled. “I’m selling the plainer frosted ones two for a dollar. The fancier outlined cookies with the colored sugar detailing go for a dollar apiece—and Mamm nearly keeled over when I told her that. She accused me of robbing my customers.”
“She hasn’t been to a commercial bakery for a long while, has she?” Michael smiled at her and plucked the top plate from her stack. “Dat likes lots of frosting, and I prefer less, so I’m going to choose some of each—and pay you for every one of them,” he insisted. “We don’t intend to eat into your profits, Jo.”
“But—but you’ve brought us poinsettias and wreaths and greenery! And before that, it was mums and pumpkins,” Jo protested, placing her hands on her hips. “Why should you forfeit the money you could be making on those items? I’d gladly barter some of my cookies for—”
“That’s different.”
Michael’s earnest expression stilled Jo’s fluttering heart. He lowered his voice, gazing at her as he held his plate with four cookies on it. “When guys want to invest in a relationship, some gifting is called for, ain’t so? It’s our pleasure to bring you and your mamm some seasonal decorations, Jo. And—and I hope you really do want to go back to Queen City with us sometime.”
“I’d love to!” Jo whispered earnestly. Her heart was hammering so hard she couldn’t hear herself think—but then, she couldn’t think when his stunning gray-blue eyes were focused on her anyway. “But I don’t know when—”
“Why not come home with us Sunday morning? I can drive you back to Morning Star anytime you’re ready, Jo.”
She sucked in air at the thought of getting away for a couple of days, even as she anticipated the backlash from her mother. “I want to—but if Mamm decides not to—”
“That’s her decision, jah? With Dat around the whole time—and our employees—everything will be perfectly proper,” he pointed out. “It’s not as though I’m luring you off on a wild getaway for just the two of us. Although that’s a great idea.”
Jo thought her knees would buckle. Her whole body thrummed at Michael’s words—at an invitation she’d never dared to believe a man would extend to her.
“All right, I’m coming!”
There! She’d said it and she couldn’t take it back.
Michael straightened to his full height, which was a good four inches more than hers. His slender face took on a slight flush, and he had to steady his plate of cookies with his other hand to keep from dropping it.
“I—I’ll pack a bag and be ready to go at first light on Sunday morning, when you fellows usually leave,” Jo continued breathlessly. “It’s a visiting Sunday, after all, and that’s exactly what I’ll be doing, jah? I want to come back early on Tuesday, though.”
“Oh, Jo!” Michael raked his dark hair back, appearing flustered yet overjoyed. “I—it’s a gut thing we cleaned the house before we came—”
“Do you think I care about your housekeeping?” Jo teased, playfully shaking a finger at him.
He laughed out loud, catching her finger in his warm grip. “Careful there, Jo. No offense, but you’re acting like your mamm—”
Jo laughed, too. Time stood still as Michael’s hand remained around hers, and she knew a moment of unprecedented, giddy joy.
“I’ll have to work on that,” she murmured when she could stop giggling. Reluctantly, she slipped her hand from his. “We’d better pack these cookies, jah? The parents will think we’re slackers if we’ve not made any progress by the time they’ve finished in the kitchen.”
“Phooey on that.
You know what they say about all work and no play,” Michael remarked as he chose a frosted drum and a decorated gingerbread house for his plate. “And I don’t want you to think I’m dull, Jo. This is new territory for me and I—well, I want to have some fun with you. Who can fault us for that?”
“Not a soul,” Jo replied happily. “I think we’re off to a fine start.”
Chapter 9
On Saturday, the wind whipped and whistled as Jude and Glenn steadied the final truss of the new roof so Pete could fasten it securely in place. Their work wasn’t going as quickly as it had on previous days, because Gabe was minding the Flauds’ furniture store at The Marketplace, and the Mennonites had been called away to a fire on the far side of town. Even so, thanks to the many hands helping and the floodlights that made it possible to work in the evenings, the house was enclosed and they’d installed the first-story windows and doors.
In the kitchen area, sheltered from the weather, Reuben and Billy Jay were unwrapping bundles of insulation and shingles. Pete was glad to have their assistance—just as Glenn’s dat and son were happy to be useful. Once the roof boards were in place, the crew could begin installing the shingles.
As the noon hour approached, Pete’s stomach growled so loudly that Glenn laughed.
“Sounds like your inner bear just came out of hibernation,” Detweiler teased. “Or did you skip breakfast because you overslept?”
“Do you think my grandmother allows me to skip meals—or to oversleep?” Pete shot back. With his battery-powered screwdriver, he drove two more long bolts into place. “I’ll be glad when our lunch comes, though, so we can sit inside while we eat. Our lady of the day should be here any time now—and maybe that’s her coming right now,” he added as he nodded at an approaching rig. The sound of wheels on the road roused Riley from his nap, and the dog ran eagerly toward the buggy.
Glenn and Jude glanced toward the vehicle, as well—and then Detweiler groaned. “No, that’s Sadie and her family,” he muttered. “Now why have they driven all the way out here from Indiana, when I assured them we were doing fine?”
“They probably wanted to see that for themselves,” Jude suggested. “It’s a big deal when your home place burns to the ground.”
“Puh! Unless my sister’s turned over a new leaf, she’s here to stir things up—and to insist that we need to move out to Indiana with them,” Glenn retorted. “Sadie can’t leave well enough alone. Please accept my apology in advance for whatever disagreeable things might fly out of her mouth. I’d better get down there before she lights into Dat.”
As Detweiler started for the ladder, Pete glanced over at Jude. “It’s a pretty sad state of affairs when a fellow says such things about his only sibling,” he said softly.
Jude nodded. “After the words that flew between them at their mamm’s funeral, I’m surprised the Shank family’s come back. And that’s a sad thing to say, too.”
Pete bent over to retrieve his tools. “Let’s go on down and wait for today’s lunch angel—and corral my dog. I don’t feel right eavesdropping on the Detweilers’ conversation from up here.”
As he allowed Jude to descend the ladder first, Pete watched Sadie and her four older kids clamber down from their double rig, followed by her husband, who was carrying his newborn twins in their blanketed basket carriers. Sure enough, Sadie’s face—which was the spitting image of Glenn’s, except she was wearing a black bonnet tied over a kapp—alerted him to the urgent mission on her mind. Her scowl deepened as she pointed her finger at Riley.
“Get out of my way, dog!” she ordered. “And stop your stupid barking!”
As Pete started down the ladder, he smiled when he spotted an approaching horse-drawn vehicle. He recognized Opal immediately. It seemed one of the twins was today’s lunch angel—an unexpected pleasure, because on Saturday both Molly and Marietta usually worked in their Marketplace shop.
He watched a woman emerge from the rig, noting a figure and an energy level that could only belong to Molly. After a moment Pete realized he should help her unload their meal instead of gawking at her—and that his dog’s barking had grown more insistent, too.
“Riley, get over here!” he called out. “Sit, boy!”
“This dog should be tied to a tree,” Sadie said sternly. “If he so much as touches one of my children—”
“And gut morning to you, too, Sadie. Nice to see you folks,” Pete interrupted, nodding at all of them. When he saw Glenn talking softly to his father, he picked up a stick and offered it to the eldest Shank boy, who was around ten. “If you throw this, Riley will play fetch until the cows come home—and he’ll stop barking.”
The kid grinned, running across the yard so the golden retriever would chase after him. The other three children, another boy and two girls, eagerly followed him.
Pete extended his hand to Sadie’s husband, Norman—a tall, lanky fellow who was looking over the construction site. “Hope you and the family are all well? Encounter any problems on the drive out?” he asked. He’d known Sadie most of his life, but Shank hailed from Indiana, so he’d only been to Morning Star for family weddings, reunions, and funerals.
Norman shook his head, baffled by what he saw. He set the baskets on the ground so he could shake Pete’s hand. “No problems that compare with this one,” he replied with a nod toward the unfinished house. “How’d this happen? Glenn’s message only said that the stove blew up—”
“Jah, the fire chief made sure to tell us it was the stove at fault and not Reuben,” Pete hastened to put in. “He thinks a valve might’ve gone bad or the gas line developed a leak. Excuse me—this gal’s bringing our lunch!”
As Pete strode toward Molly’s rig he reminded himself not to seem too eager—even though his noisy stomach announced his hunger before he said anything.
“Guess I got here just in time—for your lunch, and for whatever show Sadie’s putting on,” Molly remarked softly. She gazed past Pete to assess the conversation going on outside the house. “I should carry your lasagna inside while it’s hot. We can offer the Shanks some lunch, too, of course.”
Pete laughed. “I suspect we won’t really want to hear—”
“Glenn, when will you listen to reason?” Sadie demanded. Her voice rang out as she preceded the others through the doorway. “Now that Dat’s burned the house down, are you finally ready to move in with us so somebody can keep a closer eye on him?”
Pete scowled. “Let’s get in there. I don’t like this one bit.”
“Jah, Reuben’s done nothing to deserve that accusation,” Molly agreed. “Grab the coffee urn, will you?”
Pete took hold of the urn’s two handles and followed her toward the house. She walked fast with her box, not in the mood to tolerate Sadie’s bad-mouthing.
“And when will you ever listen?” Glenn retorted. “The fire wasn’t Dat’s fault—”
“And I don’t appreciate you talking about me as though I’m deaf—or not standing right in front of you—either, daughter.”
Pete’s eyes widened as Molly entered the house ahead of him. Reuben and Billy Jay rose from the stools they’d been sitting on while they unwrapped the shingles piled where the studs defined the front room. Ordinarily, Glenn’s dat didn’t buck the current of a conversation—but hadn’t he just nailed what Sadie had done?
Sadie bristled, planting her hand on her hip. “We’re making this offer for your own gut, Dat,” she insisted stiffly. “Families should be together, ain’t so? We have room for you at our house—”
“We’re staying with the Helfings for now,” Glenn put in. He gestured at the walls, windows, and the ceiling around them. “And you can see it won’t be long before we settle into our new home.”
“We’re pleased to have them with us, too,” Molly put in. She placed her foil-wrapped casserole on the card table Pete had set up and removed a stack of disposable plates from her box. “Yesterday your dat glued the labels on more than two hundred bags of noodles for us—and Billy Jay
helped him, didn’t you, sweetie?”
The little boy’s eyes had grown wide with trepidation as he witnessed the conflict around him. He came over to stand by Molly. “Whadaya got in that pan?” he asked shyly. “It smells really gut.”
Molly’s gentle smile brought the sun out from behind the clouds that had darkened the adults’ conversation. “Didn’t you tell me lasagna was your favorite?”
The boy’s eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly.
“How about if you pass everyone a plate from this stack?” Molly suggested as she pointed at them. “Our lasagna’s cut and ready to eat. And isn’t it better if everyone eats together?”
Sadie let out an unladylike snort. “We didn’t come all the way from Indiana to eat your noodles, Marietta. I’m trying to—”
“You’re talking to Molly,” Pete interrupted. “We carpenters have been raising the roof all morning, and it’s time to warm up with some hot food and coffee. You folks are welcome to join us.”
“Hear, hear,” Jude said as he stepped forward. “Quibble if you want, but I need to sit down with some lunch.”
“I’m with you, Jude,” Reuben said as he accepted a plate from his grandson. “Billy Jay and I have been working all morning, too—because to these folks, we still matter and we’re still gut for something. I don’t want to move in with you, Sadie. And that’s that.”
Sadie’s dark eyes shot sparks. “You have no say about—now that you don’t have Mamm looking after you—”
“I have Glenn and two Helfings and an entire church district looking after me,” Reuben countered. He kept his tone low and steady as he focused on his daughter. “And I do have a say, because I’m still the head of the Detweiler family. I didn’t put up with your sass when you lived at home, Sadie, and I don’t intend to start now.”
Pete wanted to applaud. He winked gratefully at Molly as she placed a generous square of lasagna on his plate. “This looks fabulous. Denki for your food and your kindness today, Moll.”
“Jah, this lasagna’s great,” Jude put in with his mouth full. He’d perched on a wooden stool across the room so he could concentrate on his food rather than the confrontation.
Christmas Comes to Morning Star Page 8
