The Bake Shop

by Amy Clipston

  Dedication

  With love and appreciation for Eric Goebelbecker, the coolest big brother on the planet

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  The Amish Marketplace Series Family Trees

  A Note to the Reader

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  Epilogue

  Discussion Questions

  Acknowledgments

  Glossary

  About the Author

  Praise for Amy Clipston

  Other Books by Amy Clipston

  Copyright

  The Amish Marketplace Series Family Trees

  A Note to the Reader

  While this novel is set against the real backdrop of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, the characters are fictional. There is no intended resemblance between the characters in this book and any real members of the Amish and Mennonite communities. As with any work of fiction, I’ve taken license in some areas of research as a means of creating the necessary circumstances for my characters. My research was thorough; however, it would be impossible to be completely accurate in details and description, since each and every community differs. Therefore, any inaccuracies in the Amish and Mennonite lifestyles portrayed in this book are completely due to fictional license.

  Prologue

  Christiana Kurtz watched as a car pulled up to her bake stand near the road in front of the large, white farmhouse where she’d been born and raised. The warm early May breeze tickled her nose, and the scent of moist earth and flowers mingled with the sweet aroma of her homemade baked goods.

  She quickly straightened the rows of pies, cookies, and cakes on the shelves on either side of her and then pushed the ties from her prayer covering behind her shoulders.

  The dark sedan’s doors opened, and two middle-aged women stepped out, dressed in T-shirts and shorts.

  “Good morning.” Christiana stood straighter and smiled. “How may I help you?”

  “We heard you had the best cookies and pies in Lancaster County. Is that true?” one of the women asked.

  “Oh . . . well . . .” Christiana’s cheeks heated. “I do have quite a few regular customers.”

  “What are your most popular items?” the other woman asked.

  “Most people seem to enjoy my whoopie pies.” Christiana gestured toward the shelves to her right and left. “But the shoofly pies and chocolate chip cookies are popular too. What would you like?”

  “Hmm.” The first woman pursed her lips. “I think the whoopie pies—one of each flavor.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” the second woman said. “I’ll take one of each too.”

  Two more cars pulled up as Christiana filled bags with whoopie pies. When she took the women’s money, she glanced at the four women now waiting behind them. A couple of them seemed impatient. Unfortunately, she’d grown used to that.

  “Here you go, and thank you for stopping by,” Christiana said as she gave the women their change and then their bags. Then she turned her attention to the next customers. She wasn’t sure which of them had stepped up to the stand first, so she said, “I can help who’s next.”

  “Do you sell pumpkin whoopie pies?”

  “Do you have any carrot cake?”

  The two women she’d sensed were unhappy waiting had spoken at the same time, and now they turned to stare at each other. Christiana took a deep breath. She wouldn’t allow these pushy women to get under her skin.

  “Yes, we do have carrot cake.” Phoebe, her younger sister, appeared behind Christiana, fresh from the house, her smile as bright as if she were talking to a dear friend instead of an outspoken customer. “It looks like we have one left. Let me get that for you.”

  “Danki, Phoebe,” Christiana said under her breath. Then to the woman who had asked for them, she said, “How many pumpkin whoopie pies would you like? I have a dozen here.”

  “Don’t you have more?” she snapped. “I need at least two dozen.”

  “Yes, I have more. Let me get these down for you, and then I’ll go get the rest.”

  As Phoebe stretched for the carrot cake and Christiana leaned toward the pumpkin whoopie pies, the sisters collided. Christiana stumbled forward, sending her cash box crashing to the ground. At the same time, Phoebe dropped the carrot cake.

  Christiana heard the customers gasp, and she gritted her teeth as she picked up the cash box and took in the demolished cake.

  “Was that your last carrot cake?” the woman who’d wanted one asked, her eyes narrowing. “It’s my husband’s birthday, and I promised him a carrot cake from Amish Country. I really need that cake for his party tonight.”

  Christiana swallowed against her dry throat and squared her shoulders. “I’m not sure if I have any more in the house—”

  “Well, can you check? I told you. I need one today.” The woman tapped her fingers on the counter.

  Christiana turned to Phoebe, and when she saw that her face had twisted into a frown, she decided she’d better send her to the house instead of going herself. “Will you see if there’s another carrot cake in the refrigerator, please, and—”

  “Get another dozen pumpkin whoopie pies too!”

  Christiana avoided looking back at the woman so intent on getting enough pies.

  Now Phoebe’s eyes flashed with what Christiana knew was annoyance, but she nodded. “Yes. I’ll check.”

  A third woman spoke up for the first time. “And, uh, could you please see if you have some cherry turnovers? I don’t see any on your shelves. I’m sorry, but we’re in kind of a hurry.” At least this woman wasn’t rude, and the fourth woman had been looking at her phone the whole time.

  And at least no one was traipsing up to the house when they found the bake stand closed. She couldn’t believe how often that happened.

  Christiana plastered a smile on her face and focused on the two women who’d been so demanding. “My sister will be right back. In the meantime, would you like to look at my other selections?”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Christiana and Phoebe packed the few remaining baked goods into a cooler, and then they took it, the cash box, and the unused bags to the house.

  After loading the leftovers into the refrigerator, Christiana plopped into her father’s favorite easy chair in the living room and rested her feet on his footstool.

  “Busy day at the bake stand?” Mamm asked as she came into the room.

  “The busiest.”

  Christiana blew a loose strand of her fiery red hair out of her face as she thought about the truth of the matter. Managing rude customers and being extra busy was one thing, but she wished she didn’t feel so isolated at the bake stand. Phoebe was responsible for helping their mother with most of the household chores when the bake stand was open, though, and Christiana couldn’t expect her help nor her company.

  She sighed. Unless her business became so successful that she could afford to hire a helper—and that was unlikely—she’d just have to get on with it alone. Selling her baked goods was too important to her to give up.

  1

  “Christiana!”

  Christiana’s cousin Bethany Gingerich smiled brightly as she sat at a high-top walnut tabl
e on a matching ladder-back chair in her Coffee Corner booth at the Bird-in-Hand market. Sitting on either side of Bethany were Christiana’s two other favorite cousins, Leanna Wengerd and Salina Petersheim.

  “Gude mariye.” Christiana greeted them all and set her purse and tote bag on the floor beside the empty stool at the table. She inhaled the rich aroma of Bethany’s delicious coffee. The smell made her taste buds dance with delight. It was no wonder her cousin’s booth was so successful. “How are you all?”

  “We’re great,” Bethany said. The other two nodded as they sipped their coffee. “We were just catching up before the market officially opens.” Bethany smoothed her hands down her black apron, and her light-blue eyes seemed to sparkle under the fluorescent lights glowing above them. Although she was twenty-two, Bethany always reminded Christiana of a happy kitten with her unfailing energy and constant smile. “How are you doing this lovely Thursday morning?”

  “I’m fine,” Christiana said. “I had to run an early errand for mei mamm before opening my bake stand, so I thought I’d drop in. The greeter at the door remembered I’m your cousin and let me in.”

  “Sit with us.” Leanna patted the empty stool. At thirty-four, she was both their oldest cousin and the shortest, standing at only five foot three. Christiana considered her to be the bravest and most resilient. She’d lost her husband in an accident three years ago, but she persevered, raising her son on her own.

  “I do have a little time.” Christiana hopped up on the stool and then glanced over her shoulder at the counter where the coffee and donuts were beckoning her.

  “Kaffi?” Bethany asked, as if reading Christiana’s mind. “Cinnamon is the special today.”

  “Ya, that would be perfect.” Christiana pulled a bill from her pocket and handed it to Bethany. “Danki.”

  “Gern gschehne,” Bethany sang out as she slid from her stool and headed toward the counter.

  “How are things at the bake stand?” Salina picked up her cup and took a sip.

  “It’s gut. Busy.” Christiana shook her head. “I can hardly keep up with the demand. I have to come back to the haus more than once to replenish my inventory, and if I close the stand early because I’ve run out of baked goods, sometimes customers knock on our door asking for pies, kichlin . . . everything. Sometimes they’ve come even after hours!”

  Salina and Leanna locked eyes.

  “What?” Christiana leaned forward as if to catch their unspoken thoughts.

  “Here you go.” Bethany set a cup of coffee and a donut on the table. Then she divided a look between Salina and Leanna. “Did I miss something juicy?”

  “Christiana was just saying her bake stand is so busy that she can’t keep up with the demand . . . and she has a few other challenges too,” Leanna said.

  “Ya. Customers come to her door even if the bake stand is closed.” Salina made a sweeping gesture toward the back of the market. “What were we just discussing, Bethany?”

  At twenty-four, Salina was just two years older than Bethany, but Christiana had always considered Bethany and Salina to be opposites. While Bethany was a bubbly chatterbox, Salina was quiet and thoughtful, with dark-brown hair framing her blue eyes.

  “Oh!” Bethany’s eyes rounded as she picked up her cup of coffee. “You mean the empty booth.”

  “There’s an empty booth?” Christiana took a bite of the chocolate donut and savored the taste. The best, just like Bethany’s coffee!

  Leanna nodded. “Ya, there is. The knickknack boutique closed down. I heard the owner decided to find a storefront. A bakery is just what we need here at the market. Besides the gift shops, we have a deli, a candy shop, and then my Jam and Jelly Nook and Salina’s Farm Stand, but I think customers would love to see baked goods.”

  “You should snatch up that booth before someone else gets it,” Salina said.

  “Then the four of us will have Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays together every week.” Bethany beamed. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “I don’t know.” Christiana shook her head. “I may be twenty-five, but you know how strict mei dat can still be. He’s always leery of anything that, as he says, might allow either of his dochdern to spend too much time in the English world. Plus, I can’t leave all the chores for Phoebe and Mamm.”

  “But we’re here only three days a week.” Salina held up three fingers.

  “Ya. Don’t you step away from chores to run the bake stand six days a week now?” Leanna shrugged. “You’d have more time to help with chores at home if you sold your baked goods only the three days you’re here. And I’m sure you’d make just as much money. Maybe more.”

  “Exactly!” Bethany snapped her fingers.

  “That does make sense.” Christiana let their reasoning roll around in her mind as she sipped her coffee. “It would be nice to not have to deal with customers at the haus all the time. I could put a sign out by the road inviting them to come here to buy their baked goods instead.”

  “Right.” Salina nodded.

  Christiana flattened her lips and then asked, “But how much is the booth rent?”

  “It’s not too bad. I’m sure you could make your rent quickly,” Leanna said.

  “Ya, that’s true,” Salina chimed in.

  “But you both have regular customers, and I don’t know if mine would really come here.” Christiana nodded at Salina. “You have customers who come every week for your produce.” She turned to Leanna. “And you have regulars for your jams and jellies.” Then she looked at Bethany. “I don’t even need to discuss how popular this booth is. It’s always busy when I stop by to see you. You never have to worry about making booth rent and a profit.”

  “Now, now. Let’s not be gegisch. You have plenty of regulars, too, and I do think they’d come here for your baked goods.” Bethany looked over her shoulder, and her eyes lit up. “Gude mariye, Jeff. Wie geht’s?”

  Christiana looked up as the young Amish man Bethany addressed walked toward them. She took in his solemn expression as he murmured a response to Bethany and followed her to the counter. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, and she guessed he was a few inches taller than her five-foot-seven height. He was clean shaven, which meant he was single, and dark eyes matched hair that was both wavy and curly. One thick curl was falling over his forehead. He was attractive, but his sad expression was what tugged at her heartstrings.

  Turning on the stool, Christiana looked back at the counter as Bethany slipped behind it.

  “Do you want your usual?” Bethany asked him. Then she tilted her head. “The special today is cinnamon. Maybe you want to try something new.”

  “I’ll just take the regular roast. Danki.” He pulled his wallet from his trousers pocket.

  Bethany poured his cup of coffee. “It’s warm out there, isn’t it? It feels more like July than mid-May. I think it’s going to be a hot summer.”

  Christiana turned back to Salina and Leanna and tried to put this Jeff’s sad expression out of her mind. Instead, she concentrated on the booth opportunity at the market. “I’ll talk to my parents about this. Maybe it would be a gut idea to close down the bake stand and just concentrate on running my business from here.” And I wouldn’t be so isolated!

  “I think you’ll be froh you did,” Leanna said. “I appreciate that I can go home and leave my booth behind.”

  “Me too.” Salina folded her arms over her chest.

  “I’ll see what mei dat says.” Christiana sipped her coffee and then set the cup down on the table. She pushed herself off the stool. “I need more creamer.”

  “Wait!” Leanna called. “Christiana!”

  As Christiana pivoted, she slammed into Jeff, sloshing his hot coffee onto his dark-blue shirt and knocking his donut to the floor.

  Christiana gasped as she looked up at him. His face had twisted with a deep scowl.

  “Uh-oh!” Bethany called from behind the counter. “I’ll grab a towel.”

  “Let me get napkins.” Salin
a popped down from her stool and grabbed a handful from the counter.

  “Oh no. I-I’m so sorry,” Christiana said as Jeff set his empty cup on the table. She thought her cheeks might combust with embarrassment. “I-I didn’t see you, and I—”

  “Forget it.” Jeff took the towel from Bethany and began to mop his shirt.

  “Let me help.” Christiana grabbed the napkins from Salina and started to wipe at his soaked sleeve.

  “Please don’t.” He stepped away from her, and her cheeks flared hotter.

  “Let me buy you another cup of kaffi and donut,” Christiana said, offering what she could.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. “I guess nothing is going to go right today.” He looked over at Bethany. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wait, Jeff.” Bethany rushed over to the counter. “Let me give you another cup of kaffi and another donut. I insist.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Christiana repeated as she handed him more napkins. “I should have looked behind me before I got up.”

  “It’s fine.” He swallowed, and when his gaze met Christiana’s, his grimace warmed slightly. “After the morning I’ve had, nothing surprises me.”

  “Here you go.” Bethany sidled up to him and held out another cup of coffee and donut.

  “Let me pay for these.” Christiana pulled her wallet from her apron pocket.

  Bethany waved her off. “Accidents happen.”

  “Danki.” Jeff cleared his throat and then started toward the exit.

  “I hope your day gets better,” Christiana called after him, but he didn’t look back at her.

  Salina began to wipe up the lake of coffee at Christiana’s feet, and Bethany picked up the damaged donut and threw it away.

  “Let me clean that,” Christiana said, insisting. “I caused the mess.”

  “It was an accident,” Leanna said as she wiped up the table. “It’s like I tell Chester all the time. Accidents happen. Just clean it up and move on.”

  “Ya, but his shirt might be ruined.” Christiana heard the hint of a whine in her voice. “He got soaked, and that kaffi was hot too.”