A Simple Vow

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Asa had anticipated his brother’s reluctance to move—or to change anything—so as he told of his time in Willow Ridge, he added in all the compelling details he already loved about the town and its residents. “I couldn’t believe it when this little gal with a twin in each arm told Gingerich and me to pipe down and stop upsetting the babies,” he was saying as he briskly sanded the dresser top. “And then, when she realized she knew Will—”

  “So you’ve picked up a girlfriend?” Drew interrupted. He stopped hammering tacks to look Asa in the eye. “You already sound attached to her. What’s with that?”

  His brother made a good point. Asa had connected with Edith from the first moment he’d seen her, and it had never been his way to rush into relationships. “She’s just so caring, and so kind,” he said with a shrug. “And so cute.”

  Drew rolled his eyes and began securing the fabric with his upholstery tacks. “And she’s okay that Gingerich claims you fathered those twins?”

  “She believed me when I said the kids weren’t mine. And she’s promised to care for them until I figure out whose they are.”

  His brother eyed him incredulously. “So what happens when you do that? If she’s really attached to them, she won’t like it if those babies get taken away from her. Probably won’t want to see you anymore,” he continued with a shake of his head. “And why would you want to live right across the road from her after she blows you off? Might as well rub salt in that gash on your forehead.”

  Asa flinched. In his excitement, he’d forgotten about the spot where a piece of flying gravel had hit him. But maybe his brother’s tough talk was the reality check he needed.

  “Don’t let me rain on your parade,” Drew went on in a lighter voice. “Tell me some more about Willow Ridge and the property you looked at—except what on earth would we do with a farm?”

  “Ah, but see—Luke Hooley wants to rent the crop land to raise grains he sells in his mill store,” Asa replied as he resumed his sanding. “So we’d have an income stream even if it took a while for our furniture business to catch on. We wouldn’t have to plant or mow that land. Luke’s already said he’d advance us the first year’s rent on those acres.”

  “Sounds like you’ve already settled things, Asa—without bothering to include me in the arrangements. I think this Edith—and all these people—might be leading you around by the nose.”

  Asa couldn’t miss the resentment in Drew’s words. “I didn’t intentionally leave you out,” he insisted. “Things were coming together so fast that, well—you and I really need to go up there so you can see Willow Ridge firsthand. Luke’s wanting to get that cropland planted this spring so he can—”

  “Luke wants this, and Luke wants that,” Drew interrupted tersely. “Why am I feeling like the lone stranger left out in the cold while you’ve taken up with your new friends in Willow Ridge?”

  Asa bit back a retort. It would do him no good to raise his voice to the same level of contention he heard in his brother’s questions. “It’s not my fault you weren’t with me when I got detained in Willow Ridge,” he murmured carefully. “You’ve made some valid points and given me something to think about. Shall we give this subject a rest for now?”

  Drew raised his eyebrows, but kept on hammering tacks.

  “I’m not letting an opportunity like this pass me by, however,” Asa insisted. “I hope you’ll visit Willow Ridge with me—soon—so we can make an informed decision about the future I see for us there. Sometimes change is the right thing—the best thing, for both of us and our business.”

  They resumed their work in a silence that made the shop feel too small and stuffy. Asa thought back over his experiences in Willow Ridge even as his brother’s questions rang in his mind. He had to convince Drew to at least see the place he was talking about and to meet the people who’d taken care of him. . . .

  Chapter Eight

  When Nora heard the bell above the door jingle midmorning on Thursday, she looked over the loft railing. “It’s gut to see you girls out and about with the twins,” she called to the three Riehl sisters. “Make yourselves at home, and I’ll be down in a few.”

  “Take your time, Nora,” Rosalyn answered as she and Loretta set a large box on the desk. “Dat’s sent us over with some clocks. We’re happy to linger here amongst all your pretty things.”

  Nora turned to the two English ladies who’d been trying to decide which of her handmade quilts they wanted. “Those girls have taken in two babies whose mother has died,” she explained to her customers. “Their father’s a clockmaker, and the girls do crafty things, as well.”

  “Did he make that musical clock by your front door?” the shorter lady asked with a smile. “I was eyeing that one—and the one at the bottom of the stairs—last week when I was here.”

  “Yes, Cornelius Riehl has consigned several of his clocks recently, each of them different,” Nora replied.

  The other lady smiled. “Amish folks have such interesting names, don’t they?” she remarked. “Go on down and see what they’ve brought in, if you want to. Annette and I might take a while here. Every one of your quilts is beautiful in its own way!”

  Nora sensed that if she gave these two regular customers some time to themselves, they might buy more than they’d originally intended. “Holler if you need me,” she said as she started down the stairs.

  Seeing two little smiling faces, Nora made a beeline for the babies in their baskets, which Edith had placed on her worktable. “And don’t you two look happy today!” she said as she playfully tweaked their noses. “You’re traveling in some awfully pretty carriers, too.”

  “Edith made those for an auction in Roseville—but we moved here a couple weeks before the sale,” Loretta said. Her cheeks flushed prettily as she reached into the big box they’d brought. “We wrapped Dat’s clocks with a couple of toothbrush rugs I’d made for that same auction, so I thought—well, if you still want to put them in your store—”

  Nora’s eyes widened as Loretta carefully took a clock from a round rug woven in shades of purple, teal, and cream. “These are wonderful colors! Of course I want them,” she said as she took the rug and peered into the cardboard box. “And this other one in red, yellow, and blue would be perfect for a child’s room.”

  “Oh, let me see that rug!” one of the ladies upstairs said excitedly. “Those colors match the flowers in this quilt I keep going back to—”

  “Bring both of those rugs up here, Annette,” her friend said as the two women peered over the loft railing. “A quilt and a coordinating rug would be just the thing to redecorate my guest room.”

  Nora chuckled, lowering her voice as Annette came down the wooden stairs. “Quick—decide how much you want for these, Loretta,” she said. “And don’t even think about asking less than fifty apiece.”

  “Oh my,” Edith murmured.

  Loretta’s eyes widened. “Oh, I could never charge that much for—”

  “Your time and materials are worth more than you know. Don’t sell yourself short,” Nora murmured. She turned to the customer who was approaching them, holding up the rug done in primary colors. “Isn’t this cheerful? And I can think of two or three quilts upstairs it would go with, too.”

  “I like them both! It’s so exciting to be the first person to see them—and to meet the young lady who made them, too!” Annette added as she smiled at Loretta.

  “I’ve got dibs on the purple one!” her friend called down to them. “It’ll be perfect alongside my bed, with this quilt that has the four flowers in the center.”

  “Hold your horses, Tina—I’m coming!” Annette said as she tucked the rugs under her arms.

  When she was on her way up the stairs, Nora grabbed Loretta’s hands. “Didn’t I tell you our customers would love your rugs, girlie?” she murmured. “Those ladies have been fingering the quilts for weeks, so your rugs will seal the deal. I suggest sixty-five dollars apiece—and since I didn’t have to tag them, I won’t take any
consignment fee.”

  Loretta’s mouth dropped open. “I—I was going to ask if you still want me to work—”

  “I haven’t been this excited since I bought those pottery dishes from you a couple months ago!” Tina called out as she and Annette came downstairs with their quilts and rugs. “My family loves the gifts I find for them here—but this is a present for me!”

  Nora preceded them to the checkout counter, thrumming with the pleasure she always felt when customers loved the items in her store as much as she did. As she was clipping the tags, the clock on the wall by the stairway played the Westminster chime sequence and then bonged eleven times, filling the shop with its stately tones.

  “Can’t you just hear that in our front hall?” Annette murmured as she watched the pendulum swing. Moments later, when the clock hanging by the door began to play “Amazing Grace,” both ladies stopped talking to listen to its music box.

  “Ohhh,” Tina murmured, “that’s always been my favorite hymn.”

  Edith smiled at her. “That clock plays several different hymns, along with patriotic songs—and Christmas carols!” she added brightly.

  “Jah,” Loretta chimed in. “You just set the little switch for whichever kind of songs you want, and you can change to a different track anytime.”

  “I’ve got to have that for my kitchen,” Tina insisted.

  “And I want the one with the pendulum,” Annette said, clapping her hands together. “Buck will be getting it for his birthday!”

  “How about if I pack it for you so it’ll travel well?” Loretta offered as she headed for the clock. “And I can show you how the weights and the pendulum hook on, too.”

  “Oh, this is just perfect! I’m so glad we came here today!” Annette said.

  After she’d loaded the ladies’ quilts, rugs, and clocks into their car, Nora gazed steadily at the three Riehls. “You see how it works? My customers love my merchandise, but it was the service we gave them—and your presence in the store—that made their shopping experience really special today,” she explained. “Between the two of them, they spent more than fourteen hundred dollars—”

  The sisters gasped, gawking at her.

  “—and they’ll be back, and they’ll tell their friends about us,” Nora continued earnestly. “So thank your dat for sending more of his clocks, and—”

  “He’ll be tickled to see his check,” Rosalyn murmured.

  “—Loretta, you’re a natural at dealing with people,” Nora went on as she grasped the young woman’s hand. “It was your knowledge of that musical clock, and offering to pack the other one correctly, that finalized those sales. So of course I want you to work here! When can you start?”

  Loretta gazed at her with shining hazel eyes, and then looked at Edith and Rosalyn. “Tomorrow?” she replied in a breathy voice. “I—I just don’t know what to think about how much those ladies spent.”

  Nora smiled. She suspected Loretta had done a lot of soul-searching before she’d inquired about working in Simple Gifts, and she admired the girl for overcoming her doubts about dealing with English customers—and probably her fears about what Cornelius would say, as well. “Well, it isn’t every day we turn over so many high-ticket items at once,” Nora admitted. “But I like it when friends shop together. They give each other ideas—and they tend to fuel each other’s, um—need for pretty, unusual things.”

  The sisters laughed, and when little Louisa clapped her hands together, Edith lifted the baby from her market basket. “I think you should do it, Loretta,” she encouraged as Rosalyn nodded her agreement.

  “And you should be making baskets to sell here,” Loretta challenged. “You have all sorts of reeds and handles stuck away for baskets you were going to make when we were in Roseville.”

  “Jah, that’s true,” Edith replied. “Seeing what happened with those two gals makes me think it’ll be worth my time. More than I’d imagined.”

  Nora wrote out two checks and gave them to Loretta, pleased that the Riehl girls had witnessed the way English women loved to shop for handcrafted articles. “Give your dat my best—and whatever you’re doing with those twins, keep it up. They look so happy and healthy now! I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning, Loretta.”

  The shop’s calm silence enveloped Nora as she grabbed a rag and a can of furniture polish. Dusty fingerprints suggested that these two mantel clocks had been packed away since Cornelius had moved from his previous home and shop, but cleaning them made the dark wood glimmer. Behind their beveled glass covers, they had ornate faces and graceful brass pendulums. As she polished the back of one clock, the little board that covered the access to the works popped off.

  A folded piece of paper was taped to the inside of the board. Across the top it said Riehl Clocks—Riehl Service, Riehl Timely, and it was an invoice for four hundred dollars. Nora glanced at the note Cornelius had tucked into the box the girls had carried in, describing these as musical clocks that he had refurbished—for which he wanted two hundred and fifty dollars apiece. When she fully unfolded the yellowed invoice, she noticed a handwritten note at the bottom: Shame on you, Mr. Riehl, for insisting that my dear Ervin ordered this clock as a surprise for me the week before he died—and expecting me to pay for it! He did no such thing. Anna Beachey

  “Oh, my,” Nora murmured as she read the note again. When she noticed Anna’s phone number on the invoice she dialed it, thinking something about this situation sounded familiar. . . . A lady who sounded rather elderly answered.

  “Jah, Anna?” Nora said. “I’m Nora Hooley, and I just received a clock from Cornelius Riehl to sell in my consignment shop. The invoice with your note was taped inside the—”

  “Puh! Never met the man, and I don’t want to,” Anna clucked. “That clock got delivered to the house addressed to my Ervin, the week after he’d passed away. Had a note sayin’ he hoped the little missus would enjoy her surprise, as it played ‘I Need Thee Every Hour’ and had my name on the face of it. I got all weepy and almost fell for it,” Anna went on resolutely, “except my cousin Elvina called and said the UPS man had brought her husband George a clock that played ‘Jesus Loves Me,’ with her name on it. She was so tickled that he’d wanted her to have one last surprise before he’d died, like a gift from the grave to remember him by. Except I reminded her that George had been even more of a tightwad than Ervin.”

  Nora bit back a laugh at Anna’s description of their husbands, but the situation sounded much like the Bible-selling scam from one of her favorite old movies, Paper Moon. She’d given up the gadgets and trappings of her English life when she’d returned to Willow Ridge last year to reconcile with her Amish family, but what she’d learned in the outside world had made her wise to its ways. “Did you ladies suspect Mr. Riehl had read your men’s obituaries and then personalized those clocks—”

  “You got it right, honey,” Anna blurted. “When I poked at my name with my fingernail, the fancy sticker came off, and it said Seth Thomas underneath. Elvina and I sent those clocks back the next day, as we sure didn’t want Cornelius Riehl comin’ around to collect his dirty money.”

  After a few more minutes of chitchat, Nora thanked Anna and hung up. As Nora stared at the two clocks, a worm of suspicion crawled in her stomach. What kind of man took advantage of recently widowed women’s vulnerability? It was almost as heinous as watching the funeral announcements and looting the homes of the bereaved when they were at church for the service.

  On first impulse, Nora wanted to box up the clocks and return them so she could give Cornelius a talking-to. If she did that, however, he would surely forbid Loretta to work in Simple Gifts—and might even prevent the girls from crafting their rugs and baskets to sell there.

  Keep this under your kapp. No sense in upsetting the girls by accusing their dat . . . and this knowledge might come in handy later. Nothing dishonest about selling the clocks in your shop for what seems like a reasonable price.

  Nora set the clocks at eye-level on opp
osite ends of the shelf where she’d displayed several Amish dolls and one of Bishop Tom’s carved Nativity sets. She wound one of them, smiling at the comforting tick-tock produced by its swinging pendulum. After the clock struck noon, the music box played a simple rendition of “Jesus Loves Me” that took Nora back to her childhood, when she’d learned that song at her mother’s knee. She set the second clock then, a little bit behind the first one so “I Need Thee Every Hour” didn’t play at the same time. The two hymns would remind her of Anna Beachey’s story every time she heard them—and remind her to listen for other revelations about the man who’d taken over as the deacon of the local Old Order church district.

  If she learned nothing else suspicious about Cornelius, it would signify that he’d given up his dubious habit of scamming little old ladies—wouldn’t it?

  * * *

  That evening at supper, Edith smiled at the twins as they sat between her and Rosalyn in high chairs the neighbors had loaned them. She was grateful that the babies were making happy noises, their tummies full from bottles of goat milk she’d fed them before everyone else sat down to eat. Edith could also feel how Loretta was stewing—working up her courage to talk to Dat.

  “When we took your clocks to Nora’s shop today,” Loretta finally began, “a couple of ladies bought the clocks you’d consigned earlier—”

  “So Nora said she’d make out the check at the end of the month, when she pays everyone?” Dat asked as he cut into his chicken-fried steak.

  “We brought it home for you,” Rosalyn assured him as she beamed at her younger sister. “And the same ladies bought two of Loretta’s rugs, along with quilts from the loft. It was quite an exciting visit!”

  “When I explained to the ladies about how the one clock’s music tracks work—and packed the pendulum clock for them,” Loretta said in a rush, “Nora said I was a natural at working with customers, and she asked me if I would work in her store, starting tomorrow. And I—I said yes!”