A dull ache throbbed at the base of Beth’s skull as she brushed her teeth. Straightening from bending over the sink, a wave of dizziness hit, and she grabbed the porcelain basin to steady herself.
“Whew, I hope I’m not coming down with something.”
Her equilibrium restored, she headed to the bedroom to dress. It was early for her to be up—especially for a Saturday—but she didn’t know when Sean McCauley would be stopping by, and she needed to be ready.
Her hands trembled slightly as she slipped on a fuzzy sweater, and again she wondered if she was getting sick. But then she shook her head, reminding herself of her restless night. Of course she felt wimpy this morning. It had been well after two when she looked at the clock last, which meant she’d had fewer than five hours of sleep.
“Once I get some coffee in me, I’ll be fine,” she encouraged herself as she sat on the edge of the bed to tie her sneakers. Bending down that way made her head spin, and she added through gritted teeth, “And I better eat something, too.”
She considered going to the café for breakfast. The new owner, Henry’s sister Deborah, baked the most delectable cinnamon buns.
But Saturday mornings were always busy at the café, and Beth might have to wait to be seated. She didn’t want to waste time this morning. Instead, she visited her own kitchen, frowning at the limited choices.
With a sigh, she plunked a mug of coffee left over from yesterday’s pot in the microwave and dropped two frozen waffles in the toaster. The microwave dinged just as the toaster tossed the waffles into the air. Leaning against the counter, she munched the dry, blueberry-flavored waffles and sipped the bitter liquid. Although it couldn’t compete with Deborah’s cinnamon buns and freshly brewed coffee, it filled her belly and revived her enough to go to the studio. Tucking the drawing pad containing both hers and Andrew’s designs and the thick contract beneath her arm, she headed to her vehicle for the short drive.
Cars—plain ones and “worldly” ones—lined Main Street, providing evidence of the café’s patronage of both Mennonite and non-Mennonite customers. Lisbeth’s Café had brought in the highway traffic for more than four decades. The café was as popular now as it had been when Beth’s great-aunt had operated it. Beth had chosen to build her studio on the south side of the café partly because the land had been bequeathed to her and partly because it was a great opportunity to pull in café customers when she finally built the showroom addition.
Her heart pounded as it always did when she thought of her dreams for the studio. Although she’d lain awake last night, mulling things over and over in her mind, she still wasn’t 100 percent certain about signing on the dotted line with McCauley Church Construction. God, You’re going to have to clunk me hard with an answer before Sean McCauley gets to the studio. I want to do the right thing.
She pulled her car into its usual spot behind the studio and entered through the back door. Tugging off her coat, she flipped on the fluorescent lights and then dropped her coat onto the end of the display bench. She pulled a work apron from a box beneath the bench and tied it over her clothes. Finally, she turned toward the cabinet to retrieve the copper foil and soldering iron so she could get those cut pieces turned into suncatchers.
But as she shifted, her gaze drifted across the worktable, and she froze, her eyes widening. Six suncatchers lay in a row across the tabletop, glittering beneath the bright overhead lights. She moved slowly toward the table, shaking her head. “It’s like ‘The Elves and the Shoemaker,’” she muttered, remembering her favorite of the Grimms’ fairy tales her mother had read to her when she was small.
One by one, she touched the completed projects. She then lifted a pink cross to the light to admire the change in colors. Placing the piece back on the table with the others, she drew in a slow breath through her nose. Apparently Andrew hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, either. Guilt pricked when she recalled how she had berated him for spending his time drawing instead of completing projects. He’d followed through after all.
Different emotions warred in her breast. When she saw him next, she’d thank him and apologize for being so snappy, but she would also need to talk to him about his position in the studio. He was her employee, not her partner. His job was to follow her directions. Period. No more of this acting on his own.
After retrieving cardboard and foam, she made a careful stack, sandwiching the suncatchers between protective layers, and put them in a box labeled “Salina—2/22.” That done, she slid the box beneath the display bench next to the box containing butterfly designs. Recalling Sean McCauley telling her the company’s interest in her stemmed from the purchase of a simple purple butterfly, her heart doubled its rate.
How quickly life can change, she thought, moving to the clean worktable and staring out the window across the snow-dusted landscape. Lost in thought, the sound of the back door opening startled her, and she whirled toward it in time to spot Andrew stepping through. He yawned as he slipped out of his coat, and she couldn’t help but smile at his droopy expression.
“Rough night last night?” She deliberately affected a teasing tone.
He shrugged and didn’t reply, sending her a sheepish look.
His silence told her clearly he felt uncomfortable after their last heated, one-sided exchange. Taking a breath, she formed an apology. “Andrew, I’m sorry I jumped on you like I did yesterday.”
He responded with a silent nod, his lips pulled to the side.
Puffing her cheeks, Beth blew an exasperated breath that ruffled her bangs across her forehead. She shoved the strands aside and said, “Look, I got testy because I know how much I have to get accomplished and I can’t”—she gritted her teeth for a moment, reality creating a knot in her stomach—“do it all alone. I need to know I can depend on you.”
“You can.” He finally spoke, his tone carrying a hint of defensiveness.
“Really?” She tipped her head, her eyebrows high. “To do what I ask you to do, rather than what you want to do?”
Andrew’s lips formed a grim line. His dark eyes narrowed, and for a moment Beth wondered if he was going to spew angry words. She’d never witnessed him being anything but mild mannered, but she’d never pushed him quite so hard, either.
Finally, he gave a brusque nod. “You’re the boss.”
She fought a grin. “Don’t make it sound so painful.”
An answering grin, albeit a weak one, found its way to his face. “Sorry.”
Beth’s stomach fluttered. Remembering Henry’s comment that she would need help were she to meet the demands of the new opportunity as well as continuing to create her own artwork, she pressed. “Andrew, you realize if I sign this initial contract with McCauley, it could mean big changes around here. Can you deal with that?”
Andrew stood for a moment, his gaze aimed somewhere to her left, his jaw working back and forth as if in deep thought. She waited, wondering if she was about to be left to handle things on her own and trying to decide if it would be for the best if she was. At last, he looked at her and shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders.
“Honestly? I’m hoping for big changes. I’d like to work here fulltime, year-round. To do that, you’ve got to make this studio a raving success. All that craft-fair stuff, it’s fun, but it won’t take you places.” He nodded toward the worktable, where she’d placed the contract. “That opportunity from McCauley—that’s the big time. That’s where I want to go. So I’ll do what it takes to get there.”
Beth fought a frown. While his words were spoken with conviction and he offered his assistance without hesitation, something didn’t set quite right. She couldn’t put her finger on it. While she processed his reply, seeking the reason for the discomfort that wiggled through her chest, a tap at the front door captured her attention.
Andrew charged past her and opened the door. Sean McCauley, his face wearing a broad grin, stepped into the studio.
***
“Good morning.” Sean unbuttoned his jacket, sw
inging his smile from Andrew Braun to Beth Quinn. He let it linger on Beth. Once again, her attractiveness took him by surprise. Working with her would be a pleasure in more ways than one.
“Good morning.” She walked toward him, the stiff apron crackling with the movement, and held out her hand. “I trust you had a good night’s rest?”
“Yes, I did. Thanks for asking.” He observed the tired lines around her eyes and refrained from asking her the same question. “And did you have a chance to look over the contract thoroughly?”
She nodded, her gaze shifting briefly toward her employee. “Yes. Andrew and I were just discussing how my signing it could alter our focus.”
Sean raised one brow. “Alter your focus in a positive light, I hope.” Beth didn’t answer. Instead, she turned toward the worktable, moving to the opposite side and climbing onto a stool. She pointed to another stool. “Please join me.”
Sean accepted her invitation while Andrew remained rooted in the middle of the floor.
Beth seemed to wait for Andrew to make a move on his own. When he didn’t, she sent a tense smile in his direction and said, “Andrew, I doubt I’ll be doing any real work this morning, so you can feel free to go if you’d like.”
For a brief moment, Andrew’s face clouded. Then his expression relaxed, he gave a nod, and he moved toward the back door. “Fine.” Sean suspected there was more the man wanted to say, but Andrew clamped his jaw and tugged on a coat. “I’ll see you Monday then.” He headed out the door.
Beth turned her attention to Sean. “Okay, let’s talk shop.”
Sean rested his elbows on the tabletop. “Before we get into the contract, would you mind telling me how you got involved in stained-glass art?” Jerking his thumb toward the outside, he commented, “Seems a rather unusual business for this area. Stained glass is pretty ostentatious. You sure won’t have customers from the community.”
Beth’s light laugh made Sean smile. “Oh, no, I’m certain the Sommerfeld residents won’t purchase my goods. But we get quite a bit of traffic through here. The café brings in customers, and we also get an unbelievable number of gawkers.”
Sean raised his brows.
Another laugh rang. “Curiosity satisfiers. People interested in the simpler lifestyle of the Mennonites and Amish who live around here.”
“And that’s why you built your studio here? To capture the business of the gawking curiosity satisfiers?”
“Partly.” She took a deep breath, as if seeking fortification. “You see, my mom grew up in Sommerfeld, on a farm east of town. She left the community to marry my dad, and we lived in Wyoming until about a year and a half ago. Mom’s favorite aunt passed away and left the café and her house to me.”
“Why you?” Sean was genuinely intrigued.
A slight shrug accompanied her reply. “Mom named me Lisbeth after her aunt. I guess since Great-Aunt Lisbeth never had children of her own, she chose me to be her inheritor.”
Sean got the impression there was more to the story than Beth was sharing. He waited a few beats to see if she would continue, but when she didn’t, he said, “That was nice.”
“Nice...” Beth licked her lips. “And unexpected. So, Mom and I found ourselves in Sommerfeld. I had land to build on and, with the sale of the café, funds to put up the building. Mom says it was God’s way of meeting my need before I knew I had one.”
Again Sean suspected he was getting the Reader’s Digest version, but he didn’t push her to give more details. For whatever reason, she was guarding herself. There would be time to get the full story when their relationship had developed further. “I see. So you always planned to have a studio?” He was puzzled by the pain that flashed through her blue eyes.
“No. Stained-glass art is something I learned when I came to Sommerfeld. But it grew on me quickly.”
Her light tone made him wonder if he’d imagined the earlier signs of discomfort. He smiled. “I’m glad it did. My company can certainly benefit from your newly acquired ability.”
She swallowed, her gaze jerking away for a moment before lighting on the contract. Her fingers trembled slightly as she gently flipped the corners of the pages. “Yes, well, let’s hope this will be mutually beneficial.”
“There’s no doubt,” Sean said, leaning forward. “My biggest concern at this point is whether you truly have the space to create the kinds of windows we’d need.” He patted the top of the four-foot square worktable. “This won’t be big enough.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I know. But my stepfather and Andrew could build a work surface in that open area—a platform to get the design up off the floor a bit but low to the ground to make it easier to work on larger designs.”
Sean chuckled. “You’ve been doing your homework.”
Her smile turned timid, making his heart skip a beat. “Eventually, I’d need a larger studio if I plan to construct more than one window at a time and especially if I add more equipment so I can stain and fire my own glass and have more than one cutter going, but I don’t want to go to too much expense until I know for sure things will work out.”
Sean smoothed his mustache with one finger, nodding with approval. Her caution impressed him. She had business savvy. From his conversation with her yesterday, he already knew she had the desire to expand her business. All necessary elements for success were in place: the drive, the talent, and the means. She was the perfect choice.
“So do you have any concerns about the contract itself?” He maintained the same light, interested tone he’d used earlier when questioning her about her interest in stained-glass art. It made for a smooth transition into business talk.
“For the most part, I’m fine with the contract. The financial compensation is fair considering the number of hours that will go into each window, and your past experience in dealing with the purchase of windows shows me you understand how much time is needed to create the artwork.”
Sean nodded, smiling. So far, so good.
Beth flipped the contract open, her gaze scanning the printed pages. When she located what she wanted, she turned the pages around and pointed to a block of text. “But I am concerned about the clause that gives you the right to refuse the windows once completed. That leaves me holding a piece that would, in all likelihood, be unsuitable for any other purpose. The amount of time and expense going into creating it would then be lost.”
“That’s unlikely to happen if you meet the requirements on the first piece,” he reminded her. “You’re new in this line of business, so we’re taking a chance on you. We need to be certain you can do what we’re asking you to do.”
“I understand that. It’s a protective clause.” Her eyes bored into his, not so much as a hint of a smile lighting her eyes. “But all the protection is at your end. How can we even the scale?”
Sean assumed the same businesslike attitude she had adopted. “We can’t even the scale until we know for sure you can produce. Once the first window is completed to our satisfaction, you’ll have proven yourself. At that point, you become an employee of McCauley Church Construction with the same rights and privileges of all other workers.”
Beth sucked in her lips, observing him with narrowed eyes. “So you’re asking me to purchase glass, set aside all other projects—which equates to no other means of income—until I have completed this single piece of artwork. And then it’s possible you can reject it, which would leave me holding the tab.”
“You make it sound so cutthroat.” Sean offered a light laugh. She didn’t respond in kind. He linked his fingers together, his arms on the table, and dropped all flippancy. “Look, Beth, if you’re concerned your abilities won’t meet our expectation, you don’t have to sign that contract. I’m not going to force you. I admit this first window puts a lot of pressure on you. But when”—he purposely chose to avoid the word if—“you prove yourself, you stand to gain the means to turn this place into a full-blown studio. I gathered from your comments yesterday that that’s what you’d
like.”
Her nod told him she was listening.
“If things go well, you could be the designer, hire a staff of workers to construct the windows, and turn more of your attention to being the artist behind the projects rather than the producer. That would free you up to work on your own projects in addition to ours.”
Slipping a pen from the pocket of his shirt, he held it out. “We’re willing to give you a chance. Sure, it might mean the loss of a few weeks and a portion of your bank account, but it can lead to financial freedom, the expansion of your studio, and your name becoming synonymous with stained-glass art. So ... is it worth the risk?”
For a moment, he feared he’d lost her. Her brow furrowed, her chin quivered, and she blinked rapidly while holding her breath. He offered a quick silent prayer for her to push past her fears. They both stood to gain tremendously if she would just take the chance.
Beth released her breath in a whoosh and shook her head, her blond tresses tumbling across her shoulders. Then she jerked the contract around, flipped the pages back to reveal the last page, and picked up the pen.
EIGHT
As soon as Sean McCauley left with the signed contract in his hand, Beth paced the studio. The opportunities made available by the contract loomed in front of her. Sean’s comment about her being able to hire people to put the projects for his company together while she worked on her own projects had been the deciding factor. It was the best of both worlds, and the excitement of being able to fulfill all of her dreams concerning the studio set her heart pounding in her throat.
According to the contract, she had exactly two months to complete the first project—the kaleidoscope pattern must be finished by April 1. Charging to the worktable, she flipped open her sketch pad and removed the preliminary drawing she’d made. The pad open, she glimpsed Andrew’s rendition, as well. She started to put it aside, but her breath caught. She held his design at arm’s length.
Her gaze jerked between the drawing in her hand and the one lying on the table. The two designs were identical through the center, but at a middle row, a circle of diamonds, the similarity ended. Andrew had modified her diamond by lowering the apex and stretching the bottom half. The simple change added a breathtaking shift in the overall pattern, making it appear that the center portion of the design stood out from the background.
Beginnings Page 6
