by Gail Sattler
"Ja, there is a microwave oven. But many do not use it."
"Do you?"
"Ja. Sometimes. Because often I burn things in the pot, and it is so much work to try to clean it. When things are burned on, it cannot be put in the dishwasher."
"Dishwasher?" In just a few months she had spent more time with Lois washing and drying dishes by hand than she'd done in her entire life. "You mean there actually is a dishwasher somewhere in this town?"
"This is a place of business, and we must meet our promises to our customers and be done on time. Onkel Bart did not agree, but I purchased a microwave and dishwasher so that the ladies would spend more time at their jobs and less time cleaning the kitchen."
"You're lucky everyone cleans up their own mess here.Where I work in downtown Seattle, sometimes the kitchen is so messy I hate going in there. I feel sorry for the cleaning staff.Your cleaning staff probably has it pretty easy."
"We do not have cleaning staff. Everyone keeps their work stations clean. In the same way, the people who use the kitchen must clean up their own mess."
What he probably meant was that the men used the microwave because they weren't capable of heating anything in a pot without burning it, and the women cleaned everything else. She glanced around his office, which was spotless. "I can't imagine you dusting and washing your own floor in here. After all, you're the general manager. I can see factory people sweeping up sawdust every day, but you don't make Anna or William clean the office, do you?"
"No, I do not. Tante Odelle comes in on Saturdays to mop the floors and do the dusting so everyone else can be with their families on the weekend."
Miranda froze. "The owner's wife cleans the office?" She couldn't imagine Zane's wife in Seattle cleaning the office. The woman didn't even clean her own house. Not only did she have a housekeeper, she also had a nanny.
"She says she will not pay money for someone else to do what she can do herself. Enough of this talk. It has been dif- ficult to concentrate on my work with the Yum Zetti cooking all morning. Let us eat."
Miranda inhaled deeply once more. "You're not going to get any argument from me on that." Before she reached for the lid of the slow cooker, she looked around, hoping to find something to put the hot lid down on so she wouldn't damage the fine wood surface of the credenza. Unlike her office in Seattle, where the office furniture was sterile metal, everything here was handcrafted wood, probably made personally by Ted's uncle when he expanded the business into the factory building.
Ted left his desk and set a thick pile of folders beside the slow cooker. When Miranda lifted the lid, Ted picked up the ladle and one of the plates.
She hadn't expected him to serve himself, but being one of the few single men who lived alone in their community, he was obviously accustomed to not being waited on when not at someone else's dinner table. While she settled the lid on the pile of folders, Ted scooped a generous portion of a meat and macaroni mixture onto one of the plates, then dipped back in to scoop out some of the cheese that had melted on top.
He smiled and held it toward her. "This is for you. Eat and enjoy."
Miranda stared at the plate, almost double what she would normally eat for supper, never mind lunch. She looked up at Ted, still smiling and holding it for her.
She could hardly believe that a tradition-honoring man was serving her food. Maybe he felt territorial about his office.Ted obviously ruled his office, and that apparently included lunch. "Thank you," she said quietly as she accepted the plate from him.
In the back of her mind, she noted that he hadn't taken her to the lunchroom, but they seemed to be staying in his office to eat. She didn't know if it was because he didn't have enough in the slow cooker to share with the entire staff, or if he didn't want anyone to overhear their conversation.
Her stomach turned over. That meant this was it. This was the time that he was going to tell her whatever it was that she wasn't going to like when she heard it.
But even that wasn't going to stop her from eating. She had been so busy lately, between her regular accounting job, composing music, writing the play, and coordinating everything, that most of the time she'd worked past lunch time, then didn't want to impose on Lois to make her a lunch in the middle of the afternoon, so she'd gone without eating. Then by the time supper came, often she felt too sick from being too hungry to eat a decent supper. Sneaking a little yogurt in the middle of the night tided her over until morning, but then the cycle repeated most days.
Ted spooned himself a portion only slightly larger than what he'd given her, and returned to his desk. He set his plate on top of a pile of papers he'd been working on, so Miranda picked up a file folder and did the same. "I do this at home too. Use customer's files under my plate. It must be an office workers' thing."
"Perhaps. I eat in my office most days. Now let us pray." He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and bowed his head, so Miranda did the same. "Thank you, dear Heavenly Father, for this day of good health and this day to share. Thank you for this good food and the ease with which you have provided such a feast to us in the middle of a busy day. Amen."
Miranda ate her first forkful without speaking. And the second.And the third. After the fourth, she finally slowed her pace. "I didn't realize I was so hungry. This is so good, part of me wants to eat it too fast, and the other part of me is saying to slow down and make it last longer."
"Ja. I agree."
Miranda took another mouthful, slowly savoring every chew. "Lois has never made this, which I find strange. She loves to cook, and I know she's spoiling me by giving me a huge variety of all the traditional dishes. But she's never made this."
"This is not a dish from our area. This is from the Pennsylvania Dutch Mennonite area, which has differences from our own Low German heritage. But this is very popular in Mary and Elena's restaurant, and they make it often."
"I know there are many differences among different groups of Mennonites. Those of us on the West Coast are less traditional, because civilization is newer there. You and your people are in the middle, and the most traditional and oldworld communities are on the East Coast. I've only thought of all of us as Mennonite Brethren without digging into much history. When I get home, I think I'll sit down with our older members and ask some questions."
"That would probably be very interesting."
Miranda sighed. "I've never been away from home this long before. Actually, I've never really been away from home. I've been to camps, but they were always a few hours away, and I knew I could go home whenever I wanted."
Ted stopped eating and watched her. "You must miss your friends and family."
"Not as much as I thought. In fact, I'm in contact with some of them more now that I'm farther away. E-mail is a wonderful medium."
She noted that he didn't comment. Everyone here, including Ted, frowned on technology, except that Ted was forced to use it.
"I know you travel for your uncle's business. Have you ever been to Seattle?"
"Ja, I have been there once. It is a very busy city with many hills. I was warned not to drive there, that the traffic was very bad. I have never experienced traffic like that, both in the city and on the highways, or in any other city I have been in."
"Yeah, it's pretty bad. And there's always something under construction."
While they ate, Miranda told him some of the tidbits and interesting things about living in Seattle. When they were done, she pressed her hands over her stomach. "I can't believe I ate all that. I don't think I'll eat for a week."
Ted sucked in a breath. "But you must. I brought dessert."
Miranda held back a burp with great effort. "I really couldn't eat another bite." Yet as overstuffed as she felt, visions of all the desserts Lois served danced through her head like a PowerPoint slideshow. Lois served a dessert with supper every day. Miranda didn't want it to become a habit to have dessert so often, but it was already too late.
"Uh . . . what is it?"
"Elena'
s famous breakfast cake." He reached beside him for a paper bag that had been sitting at the corner of his desk and pulled out two pieces of rich-looking coffee cake. "When I was a boy, Mama made this for breakfast on the weekends, and we ate it dunked in milk. But at this time of day, it is simply a good cake."
"One of the ladies at my church makes coffee cake to die for. It's loaded with calories."
Ted put one piece on a napkin and pushed it across the desk toward her. "It is loaded with goodness. This is my favorite cake, so I would like to share it with you."
With a line like that, Miranda couldn't refuse.
She ate about half before she couldn't take another bite. "I think I'm going to explode," she groaned, "and it's not going to be pretty."
"You will not explode. Even horses do not explode from eating too much grain."
Miranda didn't want to think that Ted had just compared her to a farm animal. "Didn't you want to talk about what's happening with the play?"
Ted checked his watch. "I did, but it is too late now. The lunch break is over, and I must get back to work. I will pick you up tomorrow, unless you again decide to walk, and we will do this again."
This time, Miranda couldn't hold back a burp.
Ted's eyebrows raised. Her cheeks turned red as if she'd spent a day in the hot summer sun.
She stood straight, trying to recover a little dignity. "Sure.That would be good. I'd like that." Even though the words came out automatically to be polite, she found she meant them.
Ted walked her to the front door, pulling his keys out of his pocket when he reached the door. Miranda pressed her fingers into his arm, causing him to freeze.
"I know you mean well, but I don't need a ride. After all that food, I don't know if I can sit down. I need to walk this off. Still, this was great, and the best lunch I've had in a long time. I'll be back tomorrow. But tomorrow, if you don't mind, I would like to serve myself."
"Goondach, my friend," Brian said as he closed the car door behind him. "Is there something you would be wishing to tell me?"
Ted put the car in gear and turned toward home. "Goondach to you too. No, there is not."
The silence didn't last more than a few seconds. Brian turned and leaned back in the seat, tipped his hat forward, then clasped his hands and rested them in the center of his chest.
"But I have heard some very interesting things. Mary tells me that you are bringing food to Miranda—that you are feeding her every day. Elena tells me that you are also bringing her all your favorite desserts and sweet things." Brian waggled his eyebrows. "I have been wondering when our charming visitor would turn your head."
"Mary and Elena talk too much," Ted grumbled.
The silence hung again, but not long enough.
"She is at your office every day."
"Anna talks too much as well."
"When Miranda returns from lunch, there is sunshine in her cheeks from thinking of you."
"Lois also talks too much." Ted gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I have been worried that our charming visitor is not maintaining her health, so I have been feeding her a nutritious lunch. My office door is kept open so anyone may see that we are talking. Then she has chosen to walk home instead of allowing me to give her a ride. I am making sure that she is eating enough to regain her strength."
Brian grinned. "Are you sure you are not feeding her trans fat?"
"Mary assures me that she is only providing healthy food that will put some meat on her bones." Automatically, one hand went to his stomach. "I know my efforts are successful because in less than two weeks I can feel that my own pants are not fitting as they did."
"So you are only doing this because you are concerned for her health?"
"Of course." Ted turned onto his street. "She is only here to help us in our outreach mission. What other reason would there be?"
Sarah slipped her hand out from between the curtains and backed up a step. "They are almost here. I see Ted's car down the road."
Miranda gave the vegetables another stir. "Finally. When he said he was going to be late, I had no idea it was going to be this late. This is on the verge of being overcooked. We'll have to do his piano lesson after supper."
Sarah giggled. "I certainly do not mind staying later. Brian will just phone my papa and let him know."
Miranda smiled. "You've been seeing a lot of Brian, haven't you?"
"Ja. But you have been seeing Ted more than I have seen Brian. You have seen Ted every day." Sarah turned to her, beaming.
"Don't get any funny ideas. We're only meeting at his office so we can talk about the play without anyone interrupting us."
Sarah peeked through the curtains quickly, one more time."Has this happened?"
"Not exactly. By the time we finish eating, his lunch break is over. The only thing we've agreed on is that I want the men in the town group to wear their hats onstage, and that he is going to ask William, since he's playing Joseph, to grow a beard."
Sarah took the milk out of the fridge and set the bottle on the table. "Mary tells me that Ted is bringing you so much good food. This can only mean one thing."
"It means that he's using our meetings as a good excuse to eat all his favorite things, including the most fattening desserts I've ever had in my life. I don't know if he thinks I haven't noticed, but his pants are a little tighter around the middle than they were a month ago. If he keeps this up, he's not going to be needing those suspenders for much longer."
"Ach, it is you he is trying to fatten up. He is sweet on you."
"That's ridiculous. If he liked me, he'd want me looking my best, not like the neighbor's pregnant goat."
Sarah scanned her from head to toe. "You will never look like that. You will be thin even when you are pregnant."
Miranda didn't want to think of that one. She pressed one hand onto her stomach. "I'm not so thin anymore. There's no scale at Lois's house, so I don't know how much I lost when I was scrambling to get the harmonies figured out in the first scene where the nativity group and the town group meet up.But whatever I lost, I gained it all back, and then some." She stopped stirring and turned to Sarah. "Speaking of scales, you wouldn't believe what Ted did to me. The second day we had a meeting at his office, he needed something in the shipping department. When we got there, he tried to get me to stand on the freight scale."
"The freight scale?"
She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. Despite his overall graciousness and his overwhelming generosity, every time they talked about the play and her plans she felt his disapproval in almost everything she suggested. Their first day at lunch he'd asked if she missed her friends and family. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but in hindsight, she should have realized what he was thinking.
"He said he wanted to see how much I weighed so he could find out how much it would cost to ship me back to Seattle."
"Ach, Ted was just telling a joke. We all know that he is sweet on you. We have been wondering when this would happen."
Miranda added more soy sauce to the mixture, probably a little too much from shaking the bottle too hard. "He has a strange way of showing it." Her hand froze in midair above the pot. More soy sauce dripped out. "Wait. We? What do you mean, we? Is everyone in this town talking about us?"
Sarah's hands rose to her cheeks. "Oba nijch! No! That would be gossip! We have been praying for you!"
"Great," she muttered, making no attempt to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
"We have been praying for Ted too."
The sound of the door opening saved her from having to give a response.
"I am sorry we are late," Ted's voice echoed from the doorway a split second before he came through. "The truck . . ."His voice trailed off as both Ted's and Brian's noses wrinkled."What is that smell?"
"Ta dah!" Miranda sang out as she lifted the lid to the frying pan. "It's a special surprise. Susan managed to get some bok choy as a sample without ordering a whole case. I made vegetarian chop suey
!"
Ted and Brian leaned over the stovetop. "I have never seen anything like this before."
"It's a Chinese vegetable stir fry. It's a little overcooked, but it's still okay. This green stuff over here is the leaves from the bok choy. And this is tofu. These long white things are mung bean sprouts. I ordered the seeds on eBay and sprouted them myself." She beamed, proud of all her hard work.
"This is strange. I was expecting you to cook the ham I had in the refrigerator." Ted sniffed, then made a face. "This does not smell good."
"Don't worry, that's just the oyster sauce. Or maybe it's the broccoli. It tastes better than it smells. It's very nutritious."And low in calories, to counteract all the high-calorie lunches he'd been feeding her.
Instead of making his way to the table, Ted picked up a fork and poked at some of the vegetables, speared a limp bean sprout, then put the fork down. "I do not care about the nutrition.I will not eat this."
Miranda rested one fist on her hip. "What do you mean you won't eat it? I worked hard to get all this stuff and cook it for you."
"It is slimy and it looks and smells like my grootmutta's compost bin."
Before Miranda could think of a response, Ted spun and strode out of the kitchen.
Behind Miranda, Sarah gasped. "Mein seit! Oh, dear," she whispered to Brian. "I think they are going to have their first fight."
Miranda banged the lid back down on the frying pan. "You're going to have to eat without us," she ground out between her teeth.
Taking a deep breath, she stomped out in Ted's wake.
17
Ted dropped down on the couch and sucked in a deep breath.Doing so did nothing to relax him. He needed to pray, but praying in anger was wrong, especially when he didn't know why he was so angry.
