by Amy Clipston
Jeff considered this. “I suppose that might work.” If I were as confident and articulate as you are.
“How much do you like her?”
“Why?”
Lewis’s expression grew serious. “I know Ella hurt you, but you’ve been alone too long.”
“Oh no.” Jeff groaned and cupped his hand to his forehead. “Not you too. I don’t need another lecture about how I need to move on and be froh because everyone else is.”
“Whether you want to hear it or not, it’s true,” Lewis said, his tone insistent. “I’m already so much happier since I started seeing Renae, and if you found someone, you’d be happier too. We’re not getting any younger.”
“I know that.” Jeff stared down at his root beer. “I’m just not ready.”
“You need to push yourself.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m surrounded by memories. They’re everywhere.” Jeff pointed to the floor. “Do you know why I built this wraparound porch?”
Lewis shook his head.
“Because Ella wanted it. Do you know why mei haus has one bedroom on the first floor and three on the second floor?”
“Because Ella wanted it.”
“Exactly.” Jeff pointed at him. “I start and end every day with my memories of her. I can’t escape them.”
“Things happen, but we move on. It’s not your fault that she changed her mind.”
“Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I hurt her somehow. I’ll never know because she didn’t tell me. All she said was that she couldn’t marry me, and then she married someone else six months later.” Jeff was aware of the despondency in his voice. “I don’t know how to move on from that devastating blow to both my heart and my self-esteem.”
“Have you prayed about it?”
“Ya, I pray about it all the time.” His throat felt thick, and he cleared it. He had to get hold of his emotions before he said too much to Lewis. He couldn’t bear the thought of getting emotional in front of his friend. “So what’s your biggest seller this time of year?”
Lewis studied him for a beat, and then his expression relaxed. “The tourists love lighthouses the best. A few years ago, mei bruder convinced Dat to make lighthouses the size of our wishing wells, and they’re a great success. We can’t seem to keep up with the demand.”
As Lewis told him more, Jeff tried to imagine what he would say when he talked with Christiana tomorrow. Tonight he would ask God to give him the right words. He needed a solution to the dilemma outside his booth.
8
“I’m so grateful you were here to help me this week,” Christiana told her sister as she sat on a stool behind the booth’s counter the following late afternoon. “There’s no way I could have kept up with the flow of customers without you.”
“Gern gschehne.” Phoebe sat on the stool beside her, kicked off her shoes, and rubbed one foot. “I can’t believe how crazy it was. Your shelves are empty again—except for one box of chocolate chip kichlin. I’m glad it’s Saturday so we don’t have to stay up late baking tonight.” She gestured toward the empty shelves. “We didn’t even get a chance to eat lunch.” She rubbed the other foot.
“I’m sorry you were on your feet all day. We’ll get all our chores done as soon as possible tonight so we can get to bed early. We have church tomorrow.”
“It’s not your fault.” Phoebe cupped her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. She perked up as she looked down. “Hi, Daisy. How are you?”
The cat meowed, and Phoebe jumped up. “May I give Daisy something to eat?”
“Of course. You know where I keep her bowls and food.” Christiana smiled at the gray tabby. “How are you, Miss Daisy?”
The cat walked in circles around Phoebe’s feet until she gave her a snack and some water from a cooler. Christiana turned her attention to the cash register and began to count the money. She looked up when her sister spoke, breaking her concentration.
“Hi, Jeff.” Phoebe greeted him as he walked into the booth. “How was your day?”
“Long,” he said.
“Hi.” Christiana felt her smile wobble as she took in Jeff’s frown. “We have one box of chocolate chip kichlin left. Would you like it?”
He seemed to hesitate, but then he nodded. “Ya. Danki. How much?” He reached for his back pocket.
“Just take it.” Christiana pointed to the box as Phoebe handed it to him. “You can hide it from your family if you’d like to keep the kichlin all for yourself.” She forced a smile in hopes he’d smile, too, but his frown didn’t waver. “Was iss letz?”
“I need to talk to you.” He approached the counter and set the box of cookies on it.
“Oh. Okay.” Christiana studied his dark eyes, but she wasn’t certain what she found there. Sadness? Frustration? Now what? Her stomach tightened.
“I’ve tried all day to get over here to talk to you, but I couldn’t get your attention.” Jeff gestured around the booth. “I don’t think the stream of customers ever stopped coming.”
“They didn’t.” Christiana shook her head. “You can see my inventory is wiped out. Phoebe and I are both exhausted.”
“That’s for sure,” Phoebe muttered as she grabbed a broom from the corner and began to sweep the floor.
“I’m sure you are.” He cleared his throat and seemed to ponder his words. “Have you noticed that your line of customers goes down the aisle?” He pointed outside the booth.
“Ya, I have. I’m surprised by how busy the Bake Shop has become already.” Christiana placed her hands on the counter. “I thought I’d have to build up interest, but I think the sign mei dat put out where my bake stand was, inviting customers to come here, has already worked. I recognized a few of my regulars both yesterday and today.”
“Right.” Jeff rubbed his chin. “The interest has been overwhelming.”
Christiana pursed her lips as irritation buzzed through her. He was stalling, and she was ready to pack up her empty racks and go home. The sooner she ate supper and did her chores at home, the sooner she could rest. “What are you trying to get at, Jeff?”
“Look, Christiana.” He pushed the curl off his forehead, and it bounced back as if it were trained to sit there. “I don’t know your situation, but I need my sales from this booth to at least cover my booth rent.” A muscle ticked at his jaw. “I can’t make money when your line blocks my business. Even if customers notice my items, they don’t seem to want to lose their place in your line. But then they don’t come back to my booth either. I had only one customer yesterday and only one again today. If this keeps up, I’ll have to close my booth.”
“I’m sorry.” Christiana’s stomach seemed to tie itself into a knot as she took in the crease in his forehead. “I didn’t realize it was a problem.”
“How could it not be a problem?” Frustration dripped from his words as he pointed outside the booth, and now she knew what she’d seen in his eyes—anger.
“Look,” he said, “only a narrow aisle separates our booths from Salina’s and Sara Ann’s. With your customer line that long, I’m sure it’s bad not just for me. It’s bad for them too.” He placed one hand on her counter. “Your booth isn’t the only one in this market.”
Christiana sat up straighter as her own anger engulfed her from the inside out. “I’m aware of that—”
“So we need to come up with a solution so your booth isn’t the only one making a profit.”
“I won’t apologize for my baked goods being so popular, and I doubt Salina and Sara Ann’s sales are being affected or they would politely talk with me about it. There’s no need for you to speak to me with that tone just because you aren’t making a profit.”
He paused and took a deep breath. “I apologize for my outburst, and you have a point about your cousin and Sara Ann. But I don’t come here for fun. I’m here to sell my goods and make a profit, just like everyone else. If we can’t come up with a solution, this won’t
work.”
“This won’t work? This?” She leaned forward and did her best to pin him with a glare. “What does that mean? This isn’t your market. You’re just a vendor like I am.” She pointed to her chest. “You can’t make decisions about who’s permitted to rent this booth.”
He blinked as if he were caught off guard.
“I have just as much right to sell my items as you do.” Her voice rose as her fury broke free. “At least my booth doesn’t smell like I’m burning down the entire market. A few customers have asked me if something was on fire.”
Jeff’s mouth worked, but no words escaped his lips.
“I’m exhausted,” she continued, her voice quavering. “My feet are throbbing, and my back aches, so if you don’t have anything else to say, I’m going to pack up and go home. We’ve already called for our ride, and Phoebe and I have to be up early for church tomorrow.”
He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Do you need help with your racks?”
Christiana stifled a sarcastic snort. “No. Danki.” She lifted her chin. “We can handle them just fine by ourselves. Have a gut night.” Then she spun on her heel and began to gather what she needed to take home. Frustration pulsed through her veins as she kept her back to him until she finally heard his footsteps fade away.
She turned and found the box of cookies she’d given him still sitting on the counter. Then she put a finger to her lips, signaling Phoebe to be quiet. She didn’t want her sister to make comments that might be overhead by any other vendors. They’d probably heard enough just now when she’d raised her voice. At least Sara Ann and Salina weren’t in their booths, but no walls separated one vendor from another—just shelves and counters filled with product and goods.
When she and Phoebe were ready, they pushed her two rolling baker’s racks outside to wait for their ride.
“I can’t believe he said that to you,” Phoebe hissed as they stood near the back of the parking lot. “How can he blame you for your booth’s popularity?” She gestured widely. “In fact, he should be thanking you.”
“Thanking me?”
“Ya. Customers have a gut chance to peruse his wares while they wait to go into your bakery. Maybe they don’t come back to his booth because he doesn’t have anything they want to buy.”
“I don’t think that’s it.” Christiana shook her head as her irritation morphed into disappointment. Jeff had ruined their friendship today. Perhaps her first impression of him was right—he was bad mannered and temperamental, and that was why he was still single at twenty-eight. Most likely he couldn’t find a woman willing to put up with his foul moods. She stared at the ground and kicked a stone with the toe of her black shoe.
“He was just so rude,” Phoebe continued, her voice too loud even for the parking lot. “The nerve of him! I really wanted to tell him off, but I knew you’d get upset with me.”
“Who did you want to tell off?”
Christiana’s head popped up as Simply Sara Ann appeared behind Phoebe.
Oh no. She was the last person Christiana needed to hear about her disagreement with Jeff today.
“Hi.” Sara Ann set her two overflowing tote bags down on the ground and then held her hand out to Phoebe. “I’m Sara Ann King, but you can call me simply Sara Ann. And you are . . .”
“I’m Phoebe, Christiana’s schweschder.” She nodded Christiana’s way.
“How nice.” Sara Ann’s gray eyes sparkled. “Did I hear you say you wanted to tell someone off? What happened? I’ve been visiting with another freind who has a booth here. What did I miss?”
“Well, it was nothing—” Christiana started.
“It was Jeff,” Phoebe said. “He barged into mei schweschder’s booth and gave her a hard time because her customer line blocks his booth. He said she’s ruining his business because he had only one customer yesterday and one again today. I told Christiana that maybe the problem is what he’s selling.”
“Uh-huh.” Sara Ann rubbed her chin and nodded her head.
“He said, ‘This isn’t going to work.’” Phoebe made air quotes with her fingers. “But it’s not his job to decide who rents the booths. Some nerve!”
Christiana cringed and rubbed her forehead. Her sister was telling Simply Sara Ann everything! What would happen when Sara Ann made sure all the vendors knew about her argument with Jeff? They would be the subjects of the hottest gossip in the market!
“That certainly is something.” Sara Ann looked as if she was trying to hold back a grin as she turned to Christiana. “Jeff was out of line. What are you going to do about it?”
Christiana shrugged. “Nothing. He’s entitled to his opinion. He pays booth rent just like I do.”
“Aren’t you going to tell Kent that Jeff was out of line?” Sara Ann took a step toward her. “I think the manager ought to know about it.”
“I don’t.” Christiana shook her head. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not upset anymore.” Where was her driver when she needed him? She glanced at Phoebe, who was staring at her with her brow furrowed.
“I would be furious if Jeff said that to me,” Sara Ann said, continuing to offer her opinion.
Christiana looked out toward the road, and relief flooded her when the familiar black van steered into the parking lot. Just in time!
“Well, there’s our ride.” Christiana grabbed the first rack. “I’ll see you next week, Sara Ann. Take care.”
Sara Ann nodded. “It was nice meeting you, Phoebe.”
“You too.”
The van came to a stop beside them. Apparently sensing their exhaustion despite Christiana’s insistence that they could manage, their driver helped them load the racks before they climbed inside. Rick Becker was a good man.
“Why did you act as if it was no big deal when I told Sara Ann what Jeff said to you?” Phoebe whispered as the van bounced toward the parking lot exit.
Before answering, Christiana took in the rows of beautiful potted flowers that welcomed market patrons with their bright colors.
“Because Salina warned me that Sara Ann is the resident gossip at the market.” Christiana was careful to keep her voice low as well. “I’m worried she’s going to tell everyone in the market what happened today.”
Phoebe seemed to study her. “Why does that bother you if you didn’t do anything wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Christiana smoothed her hands over her apron. “I guess I don’t like the idea of people talking about me. And I’m hurt that Jeff spoke to me that way.”
“Why?” Phoebe said, prodding. “Because you like him?”
“No, I don’t like him, not the way you mean.” Christiana shook her head. “But I was starting to like him as a freind, and then he ruined that today.” She stared past Phoebe, out the window. “It doesn’t matter now since he’s blaming me for his terrible sales.”
They rode for several minutes with only the hum of the van’s engine and country music from the radio breaking the silence. Christiana looked out the window as the quaint Bird-in-Hand business area zoomed by. She took in the quilt stores, the gift shops, the hardware store, her favorite little bookstore, and the fire station. The Bird-in-Hand Family Restaurant was there too. This town was her home.
Christiana let her shoulders droop as her hurtful conversation with Jeff echoed through her mind. She could still see the disappointed expression that overtook his handsome face after she’d lost her temper. But what had he expected?
“I’m sorry.” Phoebe’s voice broke through Christiana’s thoughts.
Christiana turned to her sister. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because I told Sara Ann everything.” Phoebe sighed. “I should have respected your privacy.”
“It’s okay.” Christiana touched her arm. “You’re not the problem. You were only defending me. Danki for being on my side.”
“I’m always on your side.”
Christiana smiled. She was grateful for her sister despite her sometimes-impetuous nature.
>
* * *
“It sounds like Jeff had a really bad weekend,” Mamm said as she sat at the table drinking tea with Christiana and Phoebe after supper. She pointed to the box of chocolate chip cookies. “This is all you have left today, but he had a total of two customers in two days? I can see why he’s so frustrated.”
“Ya, but he had no right to blame Christiana.” Phoebe held up her mug of tea as if for emphasis.
“I suppose so, but we all get frustrated sometimes, right, Christiana?” Mamm asked.
Christiana nodded as her insides seemed to twist and tighten.
“And we all say things we don’t mean, right?” Mamm added.
“He meant it. I could tell.” Phoebe’s expression indicated she was convinced.
“What’s on your mind, Christiana?” Mamm asked.
“I forgive him, but I’m just so hurt.” Christiana heard the tremble in her voice. “I thought we might become freinden.” She rested one elbow on the table and then her chin in her hand. “I feel so blindsided. But he was rude to me when I first met him, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Mamm’s expression grew warm. “It’s not your fault that he had a bad day and took it out on you. But do you think you can find a solution to customers blocking his booth?”
Christiana considered her mother’s question. “I can at least ask them to not block other booths. Maybe put up a sign.”
“Maybe that would work.” Mamm smiled. “Why don’t you try that next week and see if it works?”
“Ya, I will.” Christiana tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. Even if her idea did work, she still believed their friendship was ruined. Forgiving Jeff didn’t mean she could just forget what he did. How could she ever forget how he’d accused her of ruining his business?
They could never be friends if he wasn’t even sorry. And for some reason, that hurt her to her core.
9
“I was surprised you didn’t come for supper tonight,” Dat said as he climbed Jeff’s porch steps later that evening. “How was your day at the market?”
