They walked up the steps of what was once their town’s only hotel, though now it had been refurbished into a collection of specialty shops. Miriam couldn’t help being surprised. The work had been going on for more than a year. She’d been in the initial group from their district that had met with Byron Drake and tried to convince him to modify his plans to build Amish Abbey.
Amish Abbey indeed. The thought still made her shake her head. The man had known nothing of their culture or their faith, and he hadn’t cared to learn. He’d been focused on making a dollar, making it quickly, and making it multiply.
His ideas had been misguided at best and harmful at worst. He would have plunged ahead too, if it hadn’t been for Rae Caperton and her news stories.
The woman had become a close friend, and that also amazed Miriam. She’d known many Englischers, but she’d never had one she’d taken into her confidence before. Now a week rarely passed when she and Rae didn’t share a cup of tea and have a long chat together.
And they had talked about Amish Anthem (not Amish Abbey—the name had been changed along with much of Drake’s original plan). Discussing it was one thing. Seeing it was completely different.
As Miriam was finding out.
Gabe had driven by the hotel while they were doing the remodel. Possibly he could have picked up a few extra dollars helping with the carpentry work, but he didn’t need employment so badly. He and Miriam were making ends meet all right.
After the short talk with Aaron yesterday afternoon and hearing his plan, they had all agreed to meet at the hotel and take a closer look.
“Aaron and David are over by Amish Artwork.” He noticed his wife cringe at the alliteration, and he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.
“Gabe Miller, I believe you’re laughing at me.”
“I am not. Do you hear me laughing?”
“Inside you are.”
“You can’t blame a man for laughing on the inside.”
Rachel began to squirm in Miriam’s arms, and Grace reached up and tugged at his hand as customers coming in from outside jostled up against him and his family. The place was actually quite crowded.
“Can I go look around on my own?”
“Sure thing, but remember we’ll only be here a little while.”
“How long?”
Gabe shrugged. “Half an hour, maybe.”
“To go through the entire building?” Miriam moved Rachel to her shoulder and stared at Gabe in disbelief.
“I suppose.”
“There are two floors!”
Understanding dawned slowly. After all, he’d been married to her only a little over a year. “Make it an hour, Grace. I believe someone has a hankering to shop while she’s here.”
“I’ll meet you on the front porch in one hour.”
His daughter was gone before he could remind her to be careful. The thought crossed his mind that she was growing up too fast, but before he could fret over it, Lydia joined them.
“Remind me why we’re here.”
“Lydia, gudemariye.” Miriam beamed at the younger woman, who instantly softened.
“Gudemariye. I’ve already been through Amish Accents and Amish Accessories. I don’t know what we’re supposed to be looking for.” Stepping closer to Miriam and the baby, she added, “How’s Rachel?”
“Gut. I’d love to have a peek at the baby things.”
“They’re probably over in the Amish Angels section.”
“He has to run out of A’s eventually,” Gabe muttered. “I’m joining the men. You two have fun.”
“I don’t know what to look for, either,” Miriam admitted, calling after him.
Gabe didn’t answer, but he waved in acknowledgment as he made his way through the crowd.
He certainly didn’t understand what they were doing in Drake’s establishment. He wasn’t going to pretend he did, so he couldn’t very well explain their morning errand to his wife. Aaron had said that if they wanted the cabins to be successful, they needed to pattern themselves after other successful businesses. From the size of the crowd, he was right about one thing—Drake was certainly drawing in plenty of people.
“You made it.” Aaron glanced up when Gabe entered a room full of furniture. A look of relief washed over his face, and Gabe was reminded again of how young his new friend was. The cabins would be a large responsibility at any age.
“I said I’d be here.”
“From what David has told me, those animals on your place don’t always allow for the things you schedule.”
Gabe glanced at his brother-in-law, but he only shrugged and pushed his thumbs under his suspenders. “It’s true. Sometimes they put me behind more than I’d like.”
The three men moved off to the side, next to a display of Amish rockers, and studied the crowd of people.
David finally spoke. “What are we looking for?”
“I’m not sure,” Aaron confessed. He frowned as people jostled up against one another, making their way through the packed room. “First of all, where are all these people staying?”
“I suppose some drive in from neighboring towns.” Gabe combed his fingers through his beard. “And some live here.”
“Seems to be about half Amish, half Englisch,” David noted.
“All right. If even a quarter of them are from out of town, those are folks who could be staying at our cabins.”
Gabe noticed he used the word “our” but didn’t call him on it. If the young man was starting to take ownership in his onkel’s place, that was a good sign. “So you know you have potential customers if you can get them to the cabins.”
“I saw a rack for brochures near the front door.” David stepped out of the way of an Englisch woman who was carrying a huge purse.
It occurred to Gabe that Rachel would have easily fit inside the bag.
Aaron looked thoughtful. “Seems I heard anyone could place their flyers there.”
“Do you have any flyers?” Gabe asked.
“Not yet, but we could make some.” Aaron took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. Glancing down at the rockers, he noticed the tag hanging off the arm.
Gabe noticed where his eyes were directed and reached down to flip it over.
“A little pricey.” Aaron leaned closer to double check the handwritten tag. “Do all your craftsmen charge this much?”
“Nathan Glick makes these,” David said. “But he doesn’t normally price his items so high.”
“Probably Drake upped the charge,” Gabe suggested.
The three stared at each other.
“Man has to make a profit,” David admitted.
“How much does Nathan Glick usually sell these for?” Aaron asked.
“I never bought one myself, but if I was to guess I’d say probably half that.”
“So why would folks buy one here if they could buy one at Nathan’s place for half the price?”
“Well, let me think.” David watched an Englisch couple walk over and sit down in two of the rockers at the end of the row. The man ran his hand over the chair’s arm and said something to his wife about the quality of the woodwork. “Nathan lives pretty far off the main road. He has a sign out in front of his place, but I’m guessing that not many people see it. Just a handmade sign, like most folks have.”
Gabe pointed to the man and woman who had removed one of the price tags from the chair and were walking toward the register. “Maybe these people don’t realize Nathan sells the same thing for less.”
Aaron pulled a small pad of paper out of his pocket and made a note. “Let’s walk around.”
“What are we looking for?”
“More ideas.”
Gabe still had no clue as to what they were doing, but he rather enjoyed watching Aaron take notes. The lad seemed to have more in mind than simply offering rooms to travelers.
He jotted down notes when they walked into a room filled with wooden toys. When David mentioned that he had a worksh
op full of the same things, Aaron scribbled another line and kept walking. They literally bumped into Miriam and Lydia. Aaron glanced at them before referring back to his notes.
“Could you two look at quilts?”
“Quilts?” Lydia squeaked.
“Ya. See how many are on display, how reasonable the prices are, and whether or not any customers are actually purchasing them.”
Lydia put her hands on her hips. “Why would we—”
“My aenti has some quilts here. Let’s see if we can find them.” Miriam hooked her arm through Lydia’s and pulled her away from the men.
Aaron nodded toward the grocery shop. When they made their way toward that area, though, they found they could barely squeeze into the large room designed to look like an Amish kitchen—the sign over the door proclaimed Amish Cupboard.
“He ran out of A’s,” Gabe mumbled.
“Is there a reason they’ve put a root cellar in the corner of the kitchen floor?” David asked.
“I’m surprised they’ve given it a floor. Rae Caperton told us Drake wanted a dirt floor so it would look more rustic, but the council told him he couldn’t sell food in a room with a dirt floor.”
“Who is this Drake fellow?” Aaron asked.
“Owner,” Gabe explained.
“And developer.” David shook his head as two Englisch boys took turns going up and down the small ladder leading into the make-believe root cellar.
It was a three-foot drop, but Gabe was still amused to see Drake had actually put it in the room. He would have thought the possibility of someone falling and getting hurt would have dissuaded him. But then again, he did have that group of lawyers Gabe had seen at the information meetings held in town. They followed him around wherever he went. No doubt he could fight or pay off any legal suits from Englischers. Besides, it was common knowledge that Amish folk wouldn’t sue.
“Does he actually believe our kitchens look like this?” Aaron was watching the customers file into the kitchen. Straw brooms were gathered in one corner. They looked like something one would use on a dirt floor. The walls were made to look like a log cabin. A hand-cranked water pump was situated over a washbasin, and a black stove large enough to satisfy a blacksmith took up the entire back wall. Fortunately, it didn’t have fire in it or they would have all been overheating.
Where did he find a monstrosity like that?
Every surface of the stove was covered with ceramic dishes and iron skillets for sale. The countertops and cabinets were full of goods as well.
Most of the customers held a shopping basket over their arm, which they were filling up with canned goods from the shelves. Local cheese and sausage were stored in electric coolers made to look like old-fashioned iceboxes, and fresh baked breads were set out on the counters under warmers.
“He’s thought of everything,” Aaron said. “Everything except what our kitchens actually look like.”
“I doubt he’s ever stepped inside one.” Gabe knew Drake better than he would have liked to. “He doesn’t care at all if the portrayal of Amish folk is accurate. He only cares if he sells a lot of goods.”
Aaron watched a minute longer, and then he pulled out his notebook and added a few more lines.
By the time they walked back outside to the front porch, Grace was already there, sitting in a rocker. She looked as if she had been waiting for a few minutes.
Gabe stepped to the edge of the porch, happy to have the sun on his face. The crowds had been too much for his comfort level. David and Aaron followed directly behind him.
Miriam and Lydia came out within a few minutes, with Rachel screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Is she all right?” Aaron asked.
“Ya.” Gabe smiled at his wife. “That’s her midmorning snack howl. You get used to it pretty fast.”
“I could use a snack myself,” David said.
“I have some of my mamm’s cinnamon cake in the buggy.” Lydia glanced around, and shrugged when Gabe raised his eyebrows in question. “She’d already made it before last night’s guests canceled.”
Aaron walked down the steps, knocking his hat against his leg before replacing it on his head. “We might as well drive back to the cabins, if you all have time. I have some ideas, and I’d like to hear your opinions.”
“I like ideas,” David said over Rachel’s hollers. “Especially when they’re served with cake.”
Chapter 11
Grace loved her little sister. When she thought about it, she loved her more than Stanley and Hunter combined. But that child could scream louder than Lily when she started crying. How could such sounds come out of such a small baby? And why? Didn’t she understand that they were headed to the buggy as fast as they could walk?
What puzzled her even more was that her father and Miriam seemed amused by it. They both kept smiling at each other, practically laughing.
It was no laughing matter in Grace’s opinion. People were starting to stare, and Grace’s ears felt as if they might start bleeding at any moment.
Blessed silence filled the buggy as soon as Rachel began to nurse.
“Whew. That was close. I was afraid she was going to shout the kapp right off her head.” Grace sank against the back of the buggy seat as her dad called out to Chance.
“Worried, were you?” He glanced back at her.
“Ya. Weren’t you?”
“No. I remember you crying the same way.”
“Me? You’re saying I was that loud?” Grace leaned forward, staring from her father to Rachel, contentedly nursing at Miriam’s breast. Her face was peaceful now, almost angelic. One hand was resting against Miriam’s dress. “I couldn’t have been that loud. Half the town must have heard her.”
“I believe you were. Rachel must have inherited it from our side of the family.”
“Makes sense,” Miriam said. “We had quiet babies. My mamm says even my bruders were quiet. But our Rachel has healthy lungs.”
They continued that way for a few miles, Rachel nursing and Grace trying to remember. Had she ever been like that? Was it possible? Finally Miriam sat the baby up, supporting her in the front with one hand and rubbing her back gently with the other.
A loud burp filled the buggy.
Grace giggled so hard she fell back against the seat.
“That she also gets from me,” Gabe boasted.
They traveled in peace on the road out of town, leaving the crowds behind them.
“What did you think of the shops, Grace?” Miriam resettled Rachel at her other breast.
“I thought they were awfully crowded. I didn’t know we had so many people in Pebble Creek.”
“Technically in Cashton.” Gabe pulled gently on Chance’s reins to direct him to the right side of the road so that an Englisch car could pass.
“Ya. I know it is Cashton, but I think of it by our name—Pebble Creek.”
“Well, Pebble Creek is the river’s name. Amish refer to the area as Pebble Creek because we’re not all in the city limits.”
Her dad had explained this before. It seemed the older he got, the more he repeated himself. She decided it would be rude to point that out. “Ya. I like the name Pebble Creek better than Cashton, though. It’s softer.”
“Could be you like rivers more than towns.”
“That too.”
“So what did you think of Amish Anthem?” This time Miriam raised Rachel to her shoulder to burp her. The sound that came out was more girlish, but it still made Grace giggle. She liked the way her sister smiled at her over Miriam’s shoulder.
“Some of the things they sold were nice enough, but it was much too crowded. I enjoyed the porch more than the store.”
Gabe pulled his beard thoughtfully. “I was wondering if you two would like to have a kitchen like the one Drake designed. We could rip ours out and redo it.”
Grace knew her dad was making a joke. He might be old but he wasn’t crazy. If he’d been serious, she would have asked Miriam to take him to se
e Doc Hanson. Miriam knew he was kidding too.
“Ya. I’d like that root cellar in the kitchen. How about you, Grace? Then we wouldn’t have to use the pantry.”
Narrisch. Possibly both of her parents were narrisch. She’d heard that falling in lieb could make you that way, and it seemed to have happened.
She’d talk to Joshua and Abigail about it the next day. Her new grandparents were good at explaining things to her. They were the best. They were wise. The word sounded exactly right in her head. When she said it, pictures of Joshua and Abigail always popped up in her mind. She enjoyed Sundays at their home. Sometimes her whole family went over to the Kings’ on Saturday afternoon, and she was allowed to stay and spend the night there.
Those nights were the very best—filled with hot chocolate, games of checkers, and daddi Joshua’s stories. He would tell her tales of when he was a young man, when he’d fish along the banks of Pebble Creek, when there was no noise from cars along the roads and panthers could be seen along the opposite bank.
Remembering those stories made her fingers itch to draw her grossdaddi’s memories.
They arrived at the cabins in no time at all. As soon as they pulled into the parking area, Grace remembered why she’d wanted to come along with her family.
The cabins still appeared tired and lonely sitting among the trees, though someone had recently given the trees a cutting. Instead of making things look improved, to Grace it seemed as though all that had been accomplished was allowing a visitor to better see what still needed to be done.
But as she climbed down from the buggy, her eyes were seeing something else as well, and her fingers were tapping against her book bag.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside for a bite to eat? You’re bound to be hungry.” Miriam reached out to pull back the strings of Grace’s prayer kapp. It was something Grace had seen mothers do for their daughters a hundred times, but she hadn’t thought anyone would ever do it for her.
She smiled at Miriam, shook her head, and then she threw her arms around her waist and gave her a tight hug.
“All right, then. Danki for that.”
A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) Page 8
