The Bake Shop

by Amy Clipston

  “He’ll be fine.” Bethany smiled. “Stop beating yourself up.”

  “Who is he? Jeff who?” Christiana asked.

  “Jeff Stoltzfus,” Salina said. “He runs a leather and wood booth.”

  “Leather and wood?”

  “Ya, you know.” Bethany deposited a pile of wet napkins into a trash can. “He makes personalized leather bracelets and belts and those wooden letters people use to spell out names, like on signs. He also makes little trains made from wood letters that spell out little kids’ names and key chains with names on them. The Englishers love that stuff.”

  “Oh.” Christiana cupped her hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe I bumped into him. I feel so stupid.”

  Leanna rubbed her arm. “You’re too hard on yourself. It was just a mistake.”

  Christiana helped finish cleaning up the coffee spill. “I’m really sorry for the hassle,” she told Bethany.

  “It was no trouble at all. And at least we know Jeff will never forget you.” Bethany grinned.

  “Stop.” Christiana swatted her arm. “I should get going.”

  Bethany squeezed Christiana’s hand. “See you soon.”

  “I need to get back to my booth. The market just opened.” Leanna gave Christiana a quick hug. “Let me know what your parents say.”

  “I will.”

  “Why don’t I show you the empty booth on your way out?” Salina said. “It’s across from mine. They’re both on corners where two aisles intersect—mine and a main one.”

  “Okay.” Christiana walked through the aisles with Salina, passing both English and Amish customers just coming in to visit the variety of booths. She’d always liked exploring the one with used books.

  When they reached the far end of the market, they approached Salina’s booth, the Farm Stand.

  “Here’s the empty booth.” Salina pointed across the aisle and then led Christiana inside. “I think it’s perfect. The last vendor left all the shelving.” She gestured around. “You could organize it with pies over here and maybe cookies here.” She pointed to the back. “There’s electricity, as you know, so you could even use a small refrigerator to—”

  “Oh no.” Christiana shook her head. “Mei dat would never allow me to use electricity. You know how he feels about worldly things.”

  “No electricity? Really?” Salina spun toward her, and then she lowered her head and nodded. “Ya, I should’ve known that. Onkel Freeman is strict.” She pointed to the back of the booth again. “But you’d have plenty of room for supplies.”

  “I would need a propane oven to keep up with the baking since I couldn’t just run home to get more. I do think this could work, though. But will mei dat allow me to come here?”

  “I think he will.” Salina looped her arm around Christiana’s shoulders. “Just be sure to tell him that you’ll have more time to help with chores at home earlier in the week.”

  “Right. At least when I’m not baking.” Christiana wound her finger around one of the ties from her prayer covering as she scanned the large booth. It did have more shelves and storage than her bake stand. She could sell more goods and decorate it with a theme for each season. She felt her lips turn up in a smile as she imagined adding pumpkins and leaves to the shelves in the fall and then a poinsettia and greenery at Christmastime. This would be her store, her place to do what she loved—sell her baked goods.

  “From the grin on your face, I get the feeling you like this idea.” Salina bumped Christiana with her shoulder.

  “Ya, I do.” Christiana turned toward her cousin. “And seeing you, Leanna, and Bethany is the best part.”

  “Ya, it is.”

  Christiana’s grin widened. How she adored her favorite cousins! And because they shared their deepest secrets, they often felt like sisters.

  “I need to get to my booth.” Salina pointed to where the colorful, fresh produce from her garden was already on display for customers to inspect and buy.

  “Have a gut day.” As Salina left, Christiana stepped out of the empty booth and turned the opposite direction from where they’d come. The booth next door boasted the sign Unique Leather and Wood Gifts. She stopped when she spotted personalized bracelets, key chains, and belts inside. A shelf beside those items displayed wooden signs, blocks, and letters. Beyond the shelves and a counter were a workbench, a table, a couple of stools, and tools.

  And Jeff Stoltzfus.

  When her gaze collided with his, her stomach seemed to drop. Standing, he was wiping a paper towel over the large, dark stain on the front of his shirt.

  He offered her a curt nod, which she returned before spinning on her heel and hurrying out of the market.

  * * *

  “I stopped by the market this morning,” Christiana said as she set two sheets of peanut butter cookies in the oven late that afternoon.

  “Oh ya?” Mamm was mixing the ingredients for a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

  “If you had told me you were going, I would have gone with you.” Phoebe frowned as she pulled together ingredients for lemon bars. “You know I like to see our cousins too.” She stuck her lip out, and Christiana bit back a laugh at her cute expression. At eighteen, Phoebe was seven years younger than her, but unlike her, Phoebe was the spitting image of their mother with her light-brown hair and blue eyes.

  Christiana had always believed Phoebe looked like she belonged to their parents more than she did. With her red hair and blue-green eyes, Christiana thought she looked like a stranger in her own family, but her parents had shared that her great-uncle Harvey, whom she never knew, also had red hair and green eyes.

  “I promise I’ll take you next time.” Christiana moved to the counter and began putting cooled butter cookies into boxes.

  “How are the maed?” Mamm asked.

  “They’re gut.” Christiana looked at her over her shoulder. “There’s an empty booth available across from Salina’s, and I’m wondering if I should move my business there.”

  “What?” Mamm spun to face her. “You want to close down your stand here?”

  “I think it would be a gut idea.” Christiana explained all the reasons she and her cousins had come up with. “It would make gut business sense, protect our home from unwanted customers, and give me more time to help you and Phoebe here.”

  “Hmm.” Mamm tapped her chin. “We’ll have to discuss it with your dat.”

  Christiana nodded. “I know. I think he’ll agree to it since my cousins are there, and other Amish have booths there too. I wouldn’t have any more interaction with the English at the market than I do here.” She turned back to the counter as her thoughts turned to Jeff Stoltzfus. He’d been rather rude when she apologized to him and tried to help him clean up the mess. After all, the spill had been an accident, and she’d expected him to be a little more forgiving. Amish were taught to forgive others from a young age.

  And maybe he could have been a little warmer, especially when she saw him in his booth. Of course, he was still trying to get the coffee stain out of his shirt.

  Still, she couldn’t get his sad eyes out of her mind. Nor could she forget her embarrassment. How would she face him if she did take the booth next to his?

  “Did you hear what I said, Christiana?”

  “I’m sorry.” Christiana pivoted to face her mother. “What did you say?”

  Mamm tilted her head. “I said Phoebe has something to ask your dat too. But why are you so lost in thought?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” Christiana waved off the comment as she packaged more cookies. “Something just happened at the market this morning. It was—well, it was embarrassing.”

  “What happened?” Phoebe was at her side in a flash.

  Christiana frowned. Why had she even brought up the subject of her clumsiness in the Coffee Corner?

  “Tell me.” Phoebe’s eyes were wide.

  Christiana sighed. “I had kaffi with the maed this morning, and one of the vendors came in. I wasn’t paying
attention when I got up from the stool to get more creamer, and I bumped into him. I dumped his kaffi all over his shirt and made him drop his donut.”

  Phoebe gasped, and then she cupped her hand over her mouth to muffle a giggle.

  “It’s not funny,” Christiana deadpanned. “It was humiliating.”

  “Ach no.” Mamm shook her head. “Did you apologize?”

  “Of course I did.” Christiana leaned back against the counter. “I also tried to help him clean up, but he told me to stop. He wasn’t very nice. But he made a comment about how he was already having a bad day, so I guess I just made it worse.”

  “Accidents happen,” Mamm said.

  “I know, but there’s more to the story.” Christiana gestured widely. “His booth is next to the one I want to rent. That means I’ll have to see him every day I’m at the market. It’s going to be awkward.”

  “What does he sell?” Phoebe asked.

  “He makes wooden and leather gifts.” Christiana shook her head. “I don’t know how I’ll face him again.”

  “You said he wasn’t nice to you, but was he rude?” Mamm asked.

  “Ya, he was.” Christiana tapped her finger to her chin. “But he also seemed bedauerlich.” Those eyes! She couldn’t get them out of her mind.

  “Is he Amish?” Phoebe asked.

  Christiana nodded.

  “He probably was just having a bad day,” Mamm said. “We all have those. Say a prayer for him.”

  “I will.” Christiana turned back to the counter. “I need to get this baking done before it’s time to start supper. Danki for your help—both of you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Phoebe shook a finger at Christiana. “But you do need to take me to the market when you go again.”

  Christiana smiled. “I promise.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, Christiana scooped a pile of green beans onto her plate and then passed the bowl to her sister.

  “Christiana had an interesting day,” Mamm began from her seat at one end of the table, surprising Christiana. Her mother was taking the lead? She hadn’t expected that. “She visited the Bird-in-Hand market and saw her cousins, and she also found out there’s an open booth. She’d like to move her business there.”

  “Why would she do that?” Dat’s eyes widened as he looked at Mamm and then at Christiana.

  Christiana’s stomach tightened. “You know how busy my stand has been and how it’s been hard for me to keep up. I keep having to come back to the haus to get more of my baked goods. If I move to the market, I’ll have more room. And I would be selling my baked goods only Thursday through Saturday. That means I could help Mamm and Phoebe with chores Monday through Wednesday when I’m not baking.”

  Dat pointed to the table. “But you wouldn’t be here those three days to help as much as you do now.”

  “I can handle all the chores on those days,” Phoebe said, chiming in.

  Christiana smiled at her across the table.

  “Isn’t the market owned by an Englisher? Don’t they have electricity there?” Dat asked.

  Christiana nodded. “Ya, they do.”

  Dat shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a gut idea. You know using electricity is against our beliefs, and it’s better if you’re home and away from the Englisher world.”

  “I won’t use the electricity,” Christiana said. “Salina and Leanna don’t use it. I can put my baked goods in a cooler like I do now. And I’d set up a little propane oven so I could bake kichlin during the day to keep up.”

  Dat shook his head. “No, it’s best if you stay here. You see your cousins at church and at family gatherings.”

  Christiana’s shoulders slumped. She stared down at her pork chop, disappointment plaguing her. Her vision of talking to her cousins at the Coffee Corner before the market opened and maybe at times throughout the day evaporated. How could she convince her conservative father that selling her baked goods at the market wouldn’t weaken her loyalty to the Amish church and its beliefs?

  Christiana felt a sharp kick on her shin, and she sucked in a breath as she looked up at Phoebe. Phoebe lifted her eyebrows as if to offer encouragement. How Christiana adored her baby sister! With their seven-year age difference, Christiana often felt like her second mother.

  Phoebe suddenly sat up straight and folded her hands on the table. “I spoke to Suzanna today. Her parents have given her permission to go to Mexico with a group of young people from the community this fall. They’re going to build a haus, and she asked me if I’m going too.” She bit her lip and exchanged a look with Mamm.

  Christiana set her fork on her plate and watched her father.

  Dat kept his eyes focused on his plate. “You already know my answer, Phoebe. We’ve discussed this.”

  “I thought maybe you’d change your mind if you knew one of mei freinden is going. We won’t be gone very long—not even a week. That means I won’t leave Mamm and Christiana with chores for long, and I also—”

  “No.” Dat’s response was clipped as he frowned at Phoebe. “There’s no gut reason for you to go to Mexico.”

  Her sister winced as if Dat had slapped her.

  “But it’s a mission trip. We’re going to help people just like the Bible tells us to.” Phoebe’s pleading voice tugged at Christiana’s heartstrings.

  “The answer is no,” Dat said. “There’s no more discussion.”

  “But you always said we need to live a life of service, and—”

  “Phoebe Kate!” Dat bellowed. “The answer is no. Now, please drop it.”

  A heavy silence fell over the kitchen, utensils scraping the dishes creating the only sound.

  Christiana met Phoebe’s gaze and gave her an encouraging smile. Phoebe nodded and then looked down at her meal.

  “Did you have a gut day, Freeman?” Mamm’s voice was cheerful.

  “Ya, we worked on that haus over in Strasburg. We almost have the foundation done.”

  “How exciting. How big is that haus again?”

  A knock on the back door sounded, halting her father’s response.

  “Are you expecting company?” Mamm asked Dat.

  “No.” Dat shook his head as he wiped his graying light-brown beard with a paper napkin.

  “May I answer the door?” Phoebe asked.

  Dat nodded.

  Phoebe popped up from her chair and rushed through the mudroom to the back door. Voices sounded before Phoebe reappeared in the doorway.

  “An English woman is here,” Phoebe told Christiana. “She wants to know if you have any apple and shoofly pies. She’d like one of each.”

  Christiana saw Phoebe’s lips twitch. Why did she find this funny? Then it hit her—this interruption was demonstrating one of her points, the one their father might find the most important.

  Perfect timing!

  “I do have them.” Christiana glanced at her mother, who seemed to be suppressing a smile. “I’ll take them out to her.” She retrieved the pies from the refrigerator and hurried to the back door. A young woman clad in jeans and a denim jacket stood on the porch. “Hello. My sister said you want to buy some pies?”

  “Yes, I do!” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m going to my boyfriend’s parents’ house for supper tomorrow, and my mother suggested I take something special for dessert. She said you sell the best pies in Lancaster County.”

  “Tell her I said thank you.” Christiana told her the price, took the money, and then handed her the pies. “Have a nice evening.”

  “You too!” The woman smiled, and then Christiana watched as she headed to her small car.

  Christiana closed the back door and then dropped the money into her apron pocket as she returned to the kitchen. When she slipped into her chair, she forked a piece of her pork chop and put it in her mouth as silence once again fell over the kitchen.

  “You know, Freeman,” Mamm said, “if Christiana moved her business to the market, our supper wouldn’t be interrupted by eager custo
mers.”

  Christiana’s gaze snapped to her mother’s as she held her breath. Please agree with her, Dat. Please let me move to the market!

  “That’s true.” Dat lifted his glass of water as his blue eyes focused on her before turning to Mamm. “But, Lynn, the market is owned by an Englisher—”

  “And you build for Englishers.” Christiana wanted to take back the words as soon as they escaped her mouth. She’d never been so bold toward her father before. She chewed her lower lip, awaiting his explosion.

  Instead, Dat nodded. “You’re right. I do.” He took another bite and was obviously mulling that thought over as he chewed. Then he looked up and said, “Christiana, if I allow you to rent a booth at the market, you must promise me that you’ll keep our Plain ways.”

  She sat up taller. “Of course I will.”

  “Then I will allow it—but on a trial basis. If I see you’re not keeping our Plain ways, you’ll move your business back to the bake stand here.”

  “Danki, Dat.” Christiana smiled. “May I go to the market tomorrow to talk to the manager?”

  “Ya.” He gave her a curt nod.

  “I want to go with you,” Phoebe said. Her tone held a note of insistence.

  “Okay,” Christiana told her.

  “Once you confirm that the booth is yours, I’ll take down your stand so customers will stop knocking on our door,” Dat said. “I’ll put up a sign asking them to visit you at the market instead.”

  “Danki.” Christiana looked at her mother, who smiled openly this time. “This is going to be wunderbaar.”

  2

  Jeff stood at his kitchen sink and scrubbed his shirt with such force that he thought the dark-blue material might shred. He gritted his teeth and silently willed the coffee stain to disappear.

  When the screen door clicked shut from the mudroom behind him, he peered over his shoulder just in time to see his mother appear in the doorway.

  “Hi, Mamm.” He did his best to sound bright and sunny despite his foul mood.

  “What are you doing?” She crossed the kitchen and took the soiled shirt from his hand. “Are you trying to destroy this shirt?” She turned it over. “What is this stain?”