Emma Blooms At Last

by Naomi King

  Emma let out an exasperated sigh. “He and I had a chat about that,” she blurted. “He’s a nice enough fellow, I suppose, but sometimes he believes he’s pretty special, too. I’m not sure what to think of him, truth be told.”

  Abby closed the cabinet, sensing she’d said enough about Jerome. She and James had agreed to let the couple work things out between themselves. “Well, now that we’ve packed away the silverware, the fellows can load the tables and folding chairs. The wedding wagon’ll be ready for whoever’s next to get hitched, once we wash all those tablecloths.”

  “No time like the present,” Emma agreed. “Or had you figured on being at the mercantile when Sam reopens it this afternoon?”

  As they rolled the empty pull cart down the wagon’s ramp, Abby considered her reply. James wanted to work for a while in his carriage shop, so she had planned to put in her usual Friday afternoon hours at the mercantile . . . but her situation had changed.

  “Let’s you and I get going on the tablecloths. Sam can run the place with just Gail there today—as practice for when I’ll be gone,” she added mischievously. “Maybe this sounds prideful of me, Emma, but I predict that my brother will be asking me to come back for the Christmas season, only a couple of weeks away. Gail does her best, but nobody can run that place alone, especially when Sam gets called out to tend a church member’s needs.”

  Emma chuckled. “I can’t imagine who he’ll get to replace you, Abby. Far as I can recall, only Lambrights have ever worked there,” she remarked as they paused alongside the wedding wagon. “What with Phoebe married now, and Barbara midwifing, and your mamm running her gift shop, and Ruthie still in school, he’s down to just Gail.”

  The back door of the greenhouse opened and Sam stepped outside. He looked at the two of them with a purposeful expression on his face, as though he’d been waiting for them to come out of the wagon. “Emma, would you consider working in the mercantile?” he asked. “If you started on Monday, Abby could show you how we do things while she’s still there next week. James has reminded me that you’ve kept his carriage shop books for years—and your parents have just assured me that they’d get along fine while you’d be working,” he continued earnestly. “It would ease my mind to have someone I know and trust as a new employee.”

  Abby’s mouth dropped open. “We—we were just talking about how I’ll probably be moving my sewing business into a room at the Graber place, so I would be there with Eunice and Merle,” she murmured.

  But she stopped there. Although she loved Emma dearly, Abby wasn’t at all sure her best friend had the temperament or the day-to-day storekeeping skills Sam was looking for. But her brother had already said he wasn’t going to listen to any more of her protests . . . so she would say no more.

  Chapter Six

  Emma stood speechless, staring at Sam. Apparently he’d had quite a conversation with her family while she and Abby had been in the wedding wagon. Abby had just removed her excuse of staying with the folks, and her parents had assured Sam they could get along without her, but she had never considered working away from home. “I—I have no idea about running a cash register, or—”

  “Abby and I will be working right alongside you to get you off to a solid start,” Sam assured her. “You’ve been shopping in the mercantile all your life, so you’re familiar with where we keep everything. And folks hereabouts know you and like you, Emma. They’ll be patient while you’re learning the job.”

  Emma’s pounding pulse drove all rational thought from her mind. Shopping at the mercantile was one thing, but dealing with customers and answering their questions was another challenge altogether. “I have no idea about the hardware department, or plumbing fixtures, or—”

  “Anybody I hired would have to learn such things. I know it’ll take more than a day or two for you to catch on,” Sam said with an encouraging smile. “But if you come in early so we can train you a little each day without any customers around, you’ll know how to handle most situations before the holiday rush starts.”

  Holiday rush? Emma could recall times when Abby had gotten awfully frazzled from working with Christmas shoppers—English folks who got pushy or rude when the mercantile ran out of the merchandise they wanted. Questions and doubts whirled in her mind, but she couldn’t just stand there while Sam waited for her decision. “Can I think it over? This would be a—a big change for me.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t think you could handle the job, Emma.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Let me know soon, though.”

  When Sam went back inside the greenhouse, Emma turned to Abby. “Did you have any idea he wanted me to work in the store?” she asked in a tight voice. “I don’t feel any too gut about stepping into your shoes, Abby, knowing how much you love waiting on customers when I can’t hold a candle to—”

  “We all have to get beyond that,” Abby replied. “If Sam wants you to work, we’ll trust his judgment. And jah, the hour or so before the store opens each morning would be the best time for showing you the ropes. No interruptions that way.”

  Emma let out the breath she’d been holding, agog at this new development. “We have a lot to talk about while we wash the tablecloths.”

  As she and Abby went inside to gather all the laundry from the wedding feast, Emma’s mind felt as split as a cut pie, with the pieces flying in all different directions. She sensed her parents’ curiosity, but she wasn’t ready to talk to them about possibly working in the mercantile—not until she’d considered all the angles of such a huge, unexpected decision.

  “What do I need to know to work in the store, Abby?” Emma grabbed the handle of the pull cart, which was loaded with dirty tablecloths, and the two of them started across the Lambrights’ yard. “I hate to waste Sam’s time if I’m not qualified. And everyone knows it’ll take three people to accomplish what you do in the store.”

  Abby waved her off, considering her answer as they went around to the back of the house. “Can you figure change and count it back?” she asked. “We’ll teach you how to run the cash register, of course, but sometimes I find it just as easy to total the small orders on paper—especially if the line’s getting backed up. There are times when we really could use a second cash register, but Sam won’t hear of that.”

  Emma considered her reply. “My math’s pretty solid. I’ve been keeping our home checkbook and James’s business account for a long time. If we practice making change, I think I’ll be all right with that part.”

  “Jah, I think so, too.”

  They entered the mudroom, where Abby ran water into the ringer washer while Emma checked the tablecloths for stains. She was grateful for this time to discuss these details while it was just she and Abby, because she trusted her best friend to tell her the truth about the job. While Emma was flattered that Sam thought she was capable and competent, there was no denying that working in the mercantile would be a big responsibility. “So . . . what’s the worst part about running the store? What do you think I’ll have trouble with?” she asked.

  Abby’s eyebrows rose as she thought about her answer. “It’s really important to greet people when they come in. You’ll want to ask how you can help them, of course,” she continued as the washer began agitating. “But you have to look them in the eye—especially the folks you don’t know—so they realize you’re aware of their presence. It cuts down on shoplifting.”

  Emma’s hand flew to her mouth. “You mean people steal from the store? What should I do if I see that happening?”

  “Do not go up to them and accuse them of anything,” Abby warned her quickly. “The best thing is to let Sam know that you suspect something, and he’ll handle it. During the Christmas shopping season, a lot of little items get stuck into purses and coat pockets. It’s best to keep circulating, to keep talking so everyone knows you’re around.

  “It’s mostly English,” Abby continued above the noise of
the agitating washer. “They tend to think that we Plain folks aren’t bright enough to figure out what they’re doing, or that because we don’t keep our inventory on a computer, we won’t miss the merchandise they take.”

  As Abby tucked the ends of the first tablecloth into the wringer and began to crank, squeezing out the excess water, her expression became more serious. “Your trusting nature might give you some problems, Emma. It’s like the scripture from First Corinthians that Vernon preached on during the wedding,” she went on in a thoughtful tone. “You’re patient and kind. You bear all things and believe all things. And when you work with the public, you need to question more and accept less. You’ll have to stand firm when folks dish up their attitude, too—and when they try to return things without a receipt. I suspect that part won’t come easily for you.”

  Emma sighed. Abby made it sound like she’d need to cultivate a whole new personality. But at least she was being honest. “Mamm and Dat have told me a time or two not to be such a doormat,” she admitted. “I’ll have to work on that.”

  Abby smiled ruefully. “That’s a difficult thing to practice. Usually, you get yourself into a tight spot you can’t get out of before you realize somebody’s taken advantage of you. I’ve done that plenty of times over the years.”

  Emma guided the wrung-out tablecloths into the laundry basket, careful not to let them touch the floor. Abby’s references to the wedding scripture made her think about when Jerome had been mouthing those same words about patience and kindness and bearing and believing. What will Jerome think if you work in the store? He said you should get out and enjoy yourself more . . . but this job will be a commitment. It’ll be hard work with no time to play.

  But it sounds like an adventure, too! another voice rang in her mind. Won’t he think you’re more outgoing—more interesting—if you have something besides Mamm and Dat to talk about?

  “Shall we hang these out while the washer works on the next load?”

  Emma blinked. Abby’s question had cut through her musings while she was curling the last wet tablecloth on top of the others in the laundry basket. “I really need to think this through,” she murmured, yet her voice was rising with excitement. “A lot of people are depending on me to give the right answer to Sam’s offer.”

  They lifted the bulky laundry basket between them and stepped out the door to where the long double clothesline spanned the yard between the back porch post and the nearest shed. It was rigged up with a big pulley on either end, so they could hang up a tablecloth and then spin it away to bring empty line in front of them without leaving the sheltered spot beside the door.

  “Ooh, it’s gotten chilly enough that I want a heavier jacket,” Abby said. “Shall I bring you one, too, Emma? Now that the wind’s picking up, it’s feeling like winter.”

  “Jah, the cold’s cutting right through this old barn coat,” Emma replied. She began hanging the tablecloths as she waited for Abby to return. Beyond the outbuildings, the maples and sweet gums had shed their leaves. With their bare branches swaying, the trees looked desolate against a sky that was clouding over. Emma shivered.

  Cold. Lonely. That’s how I’ll be feeling while Abby and James are away for so many weekends, collecting their wedding gifts, Emma mused as she cranked the clothesline pulley. If I’m at home with the folks for another winter, what’ll I have to show for my time? If I worked at the store, I’d be right across the road if Mamm or Dat needed me. And I’d be getting out more, the way they—and Jerome—have been hinting at. Abby has always made working in the store look like so much fun . . .

  When Abby returned, she and Emma talked of other things and finished laundering the tablecloths. All the while, Emma envisioned herself helping customers in the Cedar Creek Mercantile—restocking the bulk cereals and baking supplies, filling out order forms the way she’d seen Abby do dozens of times.

  I can do this job—and Sam thinks so, too! I can put a smile on my face and talk to people—and I can accomplish something besides listening to Mamm fuss at Dat while he ignores her, day after day! What do I have to lose by trying?

  When she and Abby had hung the last tablecloth, Emma chatted a little longer with her best friend rather than jogging straight over to the store. She had her answer for Sam! And she wanted to talk with him about it before she told anyone else her decision.

  “So, where are you and James going this weekend?” Emma asked while they put away the laundry supplies. “Most likely, several folks at the wedding lined up weekends for you to come see them.”

  “Your sisters convinced us to visit them and their families in Queen City while it looks like the weather will be gut,” Abby replied. “We’re all packed, so we’ll be leaving later this afternoon for Sharon and Amos’s. We’ll spend Saturday night with Iva and Dan, go to church with the whole bunch of them, and then head back to Cedar Creek on Sunday afternoon.”

  Emma smiled, thinking how this plan would work so well for the gals who’d be quilting at the house tomorrow. “It’ll be a real adventure for you two, visiting different folks’ homes every weekend.”

  But I’ll have my adventure, too!

  Emma said her good-byes and then quickly strode down Lambright Lane to the mercantile. Sam had posted a sign on the door about being closed all day yesterday and until noon today for the wedding, so only a few vehicles sat in the parking lot. The bell above the door jingled cheerfully when Emma entered. Sam looked up from the catalog he was studying, and her heart thudded with nervous excitement.

  “I—I’ll take the job!” she blurted. “I’ve talked to Abby and I think I can do it!”

  “I’m pleased to hear that, Emma,” he replied. He peered over the top of his rimless glasses, reminding her of Abraham Lincoln—except younger—when he smiled at her. “This is a big load off my mind. I’ll see you Monday morning around eight.”

  “Jah, I’ll be here. Denki for thinking of me, Sam.”

  Emma stepped outside again, squeezing her eyes shut in sheer excitement. I have a job! Who could’ve imagined that Sam would want me to work for him?

  As she headed across the blacktop toward home, she couldn’t stop grinning. This news would certainly give her something to talk about over supper with Mamm and Dat tonight. And tomorrow when Jerome took her shopping—well, she would have to think of just the right way to tell him that she had taken his advice to heart.

  * * *

  “That was a very sensible thing to do, Emma,” Mamm said with a nod. She passed the bowl of creamed peas, gazing at Emma through her pointy-cornered glasses. “Since it seems you’re not inclined to pay Jerome any attention, it’s best if you’ve got a job to fall back on. Abby and James will be starting their family, living their own lives. And your dat and I won’t be around forever.”

  “That’s no way to talk!” Emma protested. She struggled to keep smiling even as her confidence faltered. “If you and Dat weren’t getting on so well, I wouldn’t have considered Sam’s job offer for a second. I—I just thought that with winter coming on, it might be gut to have something—oh, never mind.”

  Emma exhaled in frustration, gazing down at her plate of simmered chicken and boiled potatoes. Even with the green peas she was dishing up, it was a bland meal—as plain and unexciting as your life will be, with James and Abby living across the road and gone most weekends. She should have known Mamm would put a negative twist on her reasons for encouraging Sam to hire her.

  When Dat coughed and cleared his throat, Emma focused on him. Although he was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, he’d seemed very alert and mentally together of late. Would he relapse now that the excitement of the wedding was behind them?

  “And what do you think about me working in the store, Dat?” Emma asked. “Do you think I can handle the responsibility, and dealing with so many people? Abby makes it look so easy . . .”

  A hint of doubt flickered in his eyes, but her
mother answered before Dat could express his opinion.

  “Merle, we’ve talked about this,” Mamm reminded him. “And if Emma’s given Sam her answer, there’s no going back on it.”

  Dat pursed his lips, but then he smiled at her. “We’ll miss having you around all day, Emmie-girl,” he replied carefully. “But your mamm’s right. You’re too young to spend your life just hanging around home. We’ll get by.”

  Emma sighed. Wasn’t this the way it always went, with Mamm speaking for both of them and Dat going along with it?

  “You’ve got a gut head on your shoulders,” her father continued. He patted her hand, encouraging her. “If you find out that working at the mercantile’s not your cup of tea, at least you gave it a try. I know you’ll do your best.”

  And what kind of answer was that? By the time Emma had helped Mamm clean up the dishes and they’d all gone upstairs to bed, her excitement about working at the store had lost its sizzle. Had she answered Sam too soon? Had she bitten off more than she could chew, considering how crowds and strangers—especially English—intimidated her? And what if Jerome thought she’d been foolish to accept Sam’s job offer? She’d envisioned his approval, his encouragement because she’d be getting out more, but maybe that wasn’t a valid reason for making such a major change.

  In for a dime, in for a dollar. You’ve never been a quitter, Emma thought as she dropped her nightgown over her head. If she’d made a mistake by accepting Sam’s offer, and he’d misjudged her abilities, they would figure that out soon enough.

  Tonight she needed her rest. Spending most of the day with Jerome tomorrow, dealing with his confident affection and his determination to date her, would require all the energy she could muster.

  Chapter Seven

  As Jerome stepped toward the Grabers’ front porch on Saturday morning, Cora and Dora scurried around him, leading little Alice Ann to the door as fast as her short legs could toddle, which made him laugh. Lizzie and Vera hefted a box bulging with colorful fabrics between them, while Amanda carried covered pans of food for their dinner. All the way from Bloomingdale, the women in his life had been chatting and laughing, eager for this day of quilting. Their buoyant mood had lifted his spirits as he anticipated his outing with Emma . . . which would be much more than a shopping trip, if he had his way about it.