An Amish Gift

by Cynthia Keller

  Mattie considered the question. “Yes, it is.”

  The confirmation flooded Jennie with relief. “Now I have to figure out where to sell it.”

  The other woman frowned. “You have no place to do this?”

  Jennie shrugged. “Not really. A stand by the road? I don’t know what my choices are yet.”

  Mattie looked out over the garden, thinking. “What if I sold it at our booth at the market?”

  “You would do that?” Jennie was taken aback by such a generous offer. She turned it over in her mind. “That would be fantastic, but why would your uncle allow me to sell something that might take business away from his food?”

  “I would talk to him. I am thinking we would buy it from you and sell it for a profit. You would be a vendor, and we would buy your product from you. Simple.”

  A smile spread across Jennie’s face. “Of course. I’ll provide it to you, and you’ll do the selling.”

  “Let me talk to my uncle’s family.”

  Jennie gave her a quick hug. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Do not. He might say no. I am hoping it would be good for everyone.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll practice making a better brittle.” Jennie laughed, her excitement growing. “Have to come up with a bag or a box for it, and a name. So much to do!”

  Saying their good nights, the women went in different directions, Mattie toward the barn, Jennie toward her car. Even if Mattie’s uncle said no, even if Jennie came up with another place and the candy didn’t sell, at least she would know she had tried. She was no longer sitting by and waiting for someone or something to come along and rescue the family. She was taking action, and it felt wonderful. Just knowing that gave her the confidence to believe she would make her plan work.

  As she passed close to the house, she heard children singing and paused to listen. It sounded like they were singing hymns. Their sweet voices filled the evening air with the sound of gratitude. Jennie took a deep breath, realizing it was the first time in a long time that she had felt the stirring of hope.

  Chapter 11

  For the next several days, Jennie did little else besides making peanut brittle. Every morning, she waited for her husband and children to go their respective ways, then dashed into the kitchen to assemble the ingredients and start experimenting. There were so many variations, and she wanted to find a second tempting version to sell along with the regular peanut brittle. She tried coconut brittle, brittle dipped in chocolate, brittle with almonds and walnuts, and a slew of other combinations. The Fisher family had a steady supply, and realizing that Jennie took their reviews seriously, they made an effort to give her detailed impressions. In the end, she decided the winner was brittle with cashews. She would start by selling that along with the basic peanut brittle and see what developed.

  Miraculously, it seemed to Jennie, Mattie’s uncle gave his permission to add her candy to his stand. Now all she had to do was come up with a way to package it. She had picked up some small cellophane bags, but they weren’t too exciting. Tins would preserve it longer, though preservation wasn’t necessary if it was being sold in small quantities that would probably be eaten quickly. She was mulling over the situation as she poured out the contents of a fresh batch, knowing she could start selling it the next day if she could decide on the display.

  The front door opened, and her daughter called out to see if anyone was home. Jennie froze. She had lost track of the time, and Willa was back from school. When she entered the kitchen, she regarded the scene with puzzlement. Her mother stood over three baking sheets full of candy, surrounded by dirty dishes and pots, stacks of colorful tins, and assorted utensils.

  “It smells so good. What’s going on?” Willa came closer. “Is it peanut brittle again? Wow, you sure made a lot.”

  Even though she had planned on waiting until things were a lot further under way, Jennie decided it couldn’t hurt to tell Willa now. Setting down the pot on the stove, she started to explain. Her daughter stared at her in amazement.

  “I’m hoping to start the actual selling tomorrow,” Jennie concluded, “but I don’t have a good idea for packaging. I need a way to display it that will attract some attention.”

  Willa sat down in a chair, taking everything in. “I can’t believe you, Mom. You’re starting a business, like, for real.”

  She laughed. “Well, I’m trying. We could use the money, as you might have guessed.”

  Willa gave her a look. “Scout has probably guessed. Really, Mom, we’re not total idiots.”

  Jennie felt foolish, realizing that she treated her children as if they were small and innocent. They knew everything going on around them. She had, too, when she was their age. So why did she assume they were any different?

  “Okay.” She sat down across from her daughter. “Then let’s work together. Help me come up with a way to make my stuff call out, ‘Buy me immediately!’ ”

  Willa closed her eyes, thinking aloud. “Homemade peanut brittle. Fresh, local. Small batches. Special. Not mass-produced.” She looked at her mother. “Do you have anything at all to put them in?”

  Jennie jumped up to show her the bags and metal tins. “They’re fine, just sort of boring.”

  Willa took a few of each and said she would be back. Intrigued, Jennie cleaned up as she waited. Half an hour later, Willa came downstairs, asking for a few pieces of candy. She turned so her mother couldn’t see her, made some adjustments, then turned back and extended the cellophane bag.

  The bag was tied with three uneven lengths of different-colored raffia string. Dangling from the knot was a hand-torn tag. Willa had written Got To Candy in black ink, using a thin, spidery script above a tiny illustration of two women talking. A cartoon bubble above one head read, You’ve got to try this. Simply got to! The effect was sweet and whimsical.

  Jennie looked at her daughter in surprise. “What on earth? I didn’t know you could draw like this! Look at these women—they’re sophisticated but funny at the same time. I love this!”

  “They’re just the way I doodle.” Though Willa grinned at the praise, her expression turned anxious almost at once. “I want it to say that this is individual, unique, you know, so all of them would have to be hand-done. It’s not supposed to look perfect.”

  Jennie was nodding. “I get that, absolutely.” She laughed. “I don’t think doing them by hand is a problem, since we’re not exactly inundated with orders. You’d have to do the drawings while I tied and attached stuff.”

  “Could I? That would be so cool. I’d do each one in a different color ink.”

  “I had no idea we had a marketing executive in the house,” Jennie said, shaking her head in wonder. “You have a whole image for this in your head.”

  “Not for the tins, though. I want to work on those some more. Could you buy solid-colored ones?”

  “Sure. Hey, take your time. I’d love to see what you come up with.” She moved to hug Willa, who didn’t resist. “I can’t thank you enough, honey. This is so much better than tying it with a little curly ribbon, which is what I would have done.”

  Her daughter left, talking to herself. “We need something to say what kind it is and list ingredients, maybe on the back of the tag … just draw that once and have it be the same on all of them …”

  Got To Candy. Why not, Jennie thought. You’ve got to try it. I’ve got to get this all to work. She didn’t know what to make of Willa’s newly revealed creativity. If her daughter hadn’t interrupted today’s cooking session, Jennie might never have found out about it. It proved that all the time she spent in her room wasn’t wasted on the computer; she was thinking, drawing, experimenting. Jennie was overcome with pride in her child. Plus, they were going to work on this project together. If nothing else came of it, that was reward enough.

  When Tim got home two hours later, he found his mother and sister working on their own little assembly line to create small bags of candy, each looking slightly different from the
last. He looked around, noticing there was no sign of dinner in the works.

  “Mom? What’s going on?” He swiped a piece of peanut brittle, receiving a light smack on the hand from Jennie. “Wait, you’re saying I can’t have any?”

  “Exactly,” she answered. “Let me introduce you to Got To Candy, going on sale tomorrow morning.”

  “Huh?”

  Willa glanced over at him with disgust. “What word didn’t you understand, genius? Mom’s going to sell this. She’s an entrepreneur now.”

  “Listen to Wilma, using the big words,” he said in mock admiration.

  “Don’t call me Wilma!”

  “Whatever. Is there going to be any dinner?”

  Jennie hadn’t given it any thought. “Sure, in a bit. I’ll come up with something.”

  “Who’s going to buy this stuff?” he asked, turning to go. “You’re both crazy.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement,” his sister snapped.

  “It’s okay,” Jennie said when they were alone. “You can’t blame him for being skeptical. I would be, too. It’s not like he ever saw me doing anything like this before.”

  Besides, she added silently, he only voiced what I’ve been thinking myself. Maybe tons of peanut brittle was already for sale at the marketplace, and it was better. Or maybe there was too much peanut brittle in the world to allow for one more bite. She didn’t know how long she would be allowed to offer her product at the booth if it didn’t sell.

  As if she had read her mother’s mind, Willa said, “Listen, Mom, don’t worry. It’s going to be awesome.”

  Jennie looked at her daughter. Such an unlikely source for so much support. Not to mention her truly valuable contributions. Jennie leaned over and planted a kiss on Willa’s cheek. “Awesome like you.”

  “Oh my gosh, Mom, you are so embarrassing.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “No, this is your job, so get back to work.”

  They continued with their tasks, smiling.

  By the time Shep got home that night, the filled and labeled cellophane bags were neatly displayed in a large basket on the kitchen counter. He came in to get a beer from the refrigerator as Jennie was warming up his dinner in the microwave.

  “What’s this?” He frowned.

  She had been preparing for the moment, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. Still, the time had come.

  “We’re so lucky, Shep,” she started out in her most cheerful voice. “Mattie is going to offer these at the marketplace. You know, she’s working at one of the booths. So I make them, and she does the selling, and we make money.”

  “What are you talking about?” He opened a can of beer and took a long drink.

  “I’m making this candy to sell.” She hated how she sounded, her voice getting higher and higher, like that of some deranged preschool teacher. “It’ll be great for us and the Fishers as well. And we could really do well when tourist season arrives.”

  About to take another drink from the can, he stopped. “Are you saying this isn’t a onetime thing? You’re going to do this on a regular basis?”

  “Yes. Isn’t it great?” She heard desperation creeping into her tone.

  He picked up one of the bags, reading the label. “Who’s ‘Got To Candy’?”

  “Well … me.”

  His eyes met hers. “You’re trying to start a business.”

  She struggled not to look away. “Yes.”

  “Even though you know how I feel about you working.”

  “Shep, this is ridiculous.” The words came rushing out of her. “We have to make more money. Have to. I’ve gone along with this thing you have about your wife not working for all this time, but I’m done with it. It’s not a choice for us. Your wife has to work, and this is what I came up with.”

  He slammed the beer can down on the counter. “Because I can’t support us?”

  Frustration got the better of her. “Well, yes! I don’t blame you. Things are hard for everyone. But we can’t live on what that shop brings in, no matter how much we want to pretend we can.”

  “The store is doing better. Word’s gotten out that it’s open again, and people are coming back.”

  “That’s news to me.”

  “It’s true. I’ve been developing my own customers who trust me. Regulars. And the place looks better. I’ve cleaned it up a lot. Anyway, you can’t work because the kids need you to—”

  “The kids are in school all day. They don’t need me to do anything anymore. Besides, this is flexible, and if they do need me, it won’t be a problem.”

  “You’ve thought this all out, haven’t you? Without discussing it with me.”

  “I knew what you’d say. What you’re saying now. What you’ve always said.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  She exploded. “Maybe you do, but they’re not good enough.”

  He stared at her.

  “Look,” she said, trying to calm down, “I don’t want to do anything to hurt you or make you feel bad in any way. But we need more money. I’m trying to find a way to get some. That’s all.”

  “What makes you think this stuff”—he gestured at the basket’s contents—“is going to bring in any real money?”

  She just looked at him. “You know,” she said quietly, “you haven’t even asked to taste it.”

  He turned and left without another word. Fuming, she went upstairs. Couples were supposed to help each other accomplish things, not throw up unreasonable barriers. He wouldn’t let her help with the bike shop, and now he wanted to stop her from doing something constructive for the family. Yes, he was tied to the idea of being the provider, as he had been for his brother when they were young. Mix that with his natural pride, plus the lost years of being the football hero, and you have a deadly combination. He wanted to be the hero, her hero, and that was fine, but not if it flew in the face of reality. This was a time for them to work together, like they used to. Instead, he was driving them further apart with his disappointment at himself.

  The time for all that was over. Tomorrow morning, she would bring her merchandise to Mattie’s booth.

  Chapter 12

  Jennie pulled up to the Fisher farm just in time to see Mattie climbing into one of the family’s buggies. She waved as she took up the reins. Jennie grabbed the basket of peanut brittle and rushed over.

  “Do you always leave this early?” she asked. “I thought you’d still be having breakfast.”

  “There is a lot to do today,” Mattie said. “Are you bringing something else for us to taste?”

  Jennie grinned, holding up the basket. “Fifty bags. Ready to sell.”

  Mattie reached out to take it, observing the neat rows of candy. “It looks very nice. I can put it right on the counter.” Smiling, she set it on the buggy’s floor beside her, then took the reins in both hands again. “Now we will see.” She clicked her tongue, and the horse started walking.

  “Let me know if you sell any,” Jennie called out, immediately feeling foolish. Obviously, Mattie would let her know. There was no point in being so anxious. She had to give it a chance. It could be a week before she made a sale. If she ever did.

  The day seemed endless, but late in the afternoon, she answered a knock at the door to find Joshua Fisher standing outside.

  “My mother wanted me to tell you that they sold thirty bags of peanut brittle. Can you make more for tomorrow?”

  “For tomorrow?” Jennie echoed, too surprised to say anything else.

  He nodded.

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Jennie found her voice, and a wide smile broke across her face. “Please tell her I’ll have it to her first thing in the morning.”

  She watched Joshua walk down the driveway to the road, her mind trying to register what she had just heard. Thirty sales! She whirled around in excitement and slammed the door. “Willa! Honey, get down here!”

  “What?” The annoyed tone floated downstairs.

  Jennie hurried toward the
stairs and called up. “We sold thirty bags! At the market today!”

  There was a pause, then the sound of Willa’s feet hitting the floor. She came tearing out of her room, practically flying down the steps. “Are you kidding?”

  Jennie shook her head. “Can you believe it?”

  Her daughter did a few quick dance moves to express her delight, and they hugged.

  “We need to replace them for tomorrow.”

  “Oh, wow. I have to do more labels.”

  “Okay.” Jennie started thinking aloud. “We have to be organized about this. You finish your homework while I make more brittle. Then we’ll put the packages together. Will you be okay if we have dinner a little later than usual?”

  “Are you kidding? This is huge, Mom!” Willa put up her hand for a high five, which Jennie happily supplied. “You did it, you actually did it. You are truly the bomb-dot-com!”

  Jennie had no idea what that meant. “Why, thank you,” she said with exaggerated modesty. “But no, we did it together. Definitely, it wouldn’t have been the same without your adorable packages.”

  Willa was already racing back toward her room, anxious to get on with the next batch. Humming, Jennie went back into the kitchen. It wasn’t the building of an empire, she thought, but it was something.

  Producing the new order kept her and Willa up late that night. When she was finally able to sit down and draw the labels, Willa had to speed up, which resulted in lines that wavered more. It was an unintended improvement, in Jennie’s opinion. Still, if they were going to refill the big basket frequently, they would need a more efficient process. As they assembled the bags, they came up with the idea to have Willa draw twenty master labels, each one with a different sketch having one person or animal telling another to try the candy.

  Their excitement was almost palpable when Shep arrived home and entered the kitchen. They both greeted him cheerfully but continued measuring and tying the colorful strands of raffia. His face darkened as he watched them, but he merely microwaved the plate of food Jennie had set aside for him, grabbed a beer, and went off to the living room to eat in front of the television. Jennie watched him with a mixture of annoyance and sadness.