“I’m sorry. I like your stories. I’ve always been interested in the mission field, even though I haven’t had many opportunities to participate.” She didn’t add that she had hoped this job would provide such opportunities, for that wasn’t really his problem. It was Randy’s, but he had changed since he’d hired her. The promised opportunities hadn’t developed yet. She looked up. Chance was studying her intently. “I did go to Bangladesh right after I graduated from Rosedale Bible College.”
He questioned her further, and she got swept up in the memories, telling him about the prayer walks through the village. When she finished, he stood, quietly staring at her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he was lost in his thoughts. She fiddled with her Styrofoam container then remembered the sticky note. She tore it off the yellow pad and handed it to him. “I wrote my friend’s name, Lil Landis—I mean Stauffer. She’s a newlywed.”
“You want me to bring you back a replacement? That probably got cold.”
“No. It’s fine.”
“Hold my calls then,” he joked, because she fielded all his calls and was handling a fair share of them these days. She heard his departing footsteps and refused to watch him leave.
Megan had only taken two bites when Paige rounded the corner of her wall. “Holding your own, sweetie?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Because I came to vent. We just lost a major donor. They said the economy has forced them to cut back. And you know what that means?”
“You have to make a hundred calls? That why you’re only wearing one earring?” Megan found it amusing how Paige wore the most unpractical clothing and contraptions.
“Yep.”
“Had lunch? I’ll share.”
“I’m headed to the break room now. I have a sandwich in the frig. I have to work through lunch.”
“At least you got used to your contacts.”
Paige blinked. “Oh honey, you shouldn’t have reminded me. That’ll be the next thing. But my eyes are doing better.”
She gave her tight suit skirt a twist. “Anything I can get you? Although in my opinion, you’ve got the advantage, over on this side of the office. Didn’t I tell you he’s a charmer?”
Megan leaned to whisper. “He’s a gentleman, but my workload has doubled again.”
“So no ideas on donors?”
“You ask me this every week.”
“I know, and you’ll keep your ears open, like always?”
Megan shrugged and watched Paige prance away, perfectly poised on three-inch heels. She took a forkful of lasagna. Sure, Paige joked about Chance, and even some of the younger flight line technicians, but she was dedicated to her husband. And as far as Megan could tell, there hadn’t been any inter-office flirting. If anything, Paige seemed to watch out for her. Megan didn’t like the way men consumed her thinking, these days.
Her friends sensed it, too. Katy and Lil had both told her she needed a boyfriend. The handful of single guys at church had all pursued her at one time or another. She’d had guys interested in her at college, too. But nobody had caught her attention. Except the ones who shouldn’t. She put her half-empty container in the wastebasket and picked up her phone. She had calls to make, too. Today she was following up on the corporations who had recently chartered flights. She punched in a number then looked up as Chance breezed back into the office.
“Lil’s quite the gal. We hit it off.”
Her phone still to her ear, Megan replied, “Great.” She couldn’t wait to talk to Lil again.
“She told me to keep my hands off you.”
“What!” When Megan realized she had blurted What! into a customer’s ear, she motioned to her phone and turned her gaze away from Chance. What on earth was Lil thinking? “Hello. This is Megan at Char Air. I see you flew with us on …”
In the background, she heard Chance chuckle. “She also gave away your strategic vulnerability.”
Megan glanced back at Chance with narrowed eyes and continued speaking to her customer. “And I wanted to make sure your experience was a pleasant one.”
Very pleasant, Chance thought, still chuckling and walking into his office. He’d never known that Conservative girls could be so much fun. Lil was outspoken and delightful. Easy on the eyes, too. She’d come straight to the point, warning him away from Megan. But she’d given away enough about Megan for him to realize that there must be some interest in him on her part, or else Lil wouldn’t even have heard about him. And the feisty chef had confirmed his hunches about his assistant. Megan was fascinated with the mission field, longing to see other countries and help people.
It gladdened him, because there was nothing he liked better than sharing stories with interested parties. He’d thought Megan was interested, until this morning when she’d tuned him out. But maybe she was just hungry. It would certainly help him to pass the time if he would find in her a willing ear.
And there was nothing he would love more than to show her around Ecuador. As friends, of course. But if he could do something to make those blues of hers light up, he would. For sure, when his two months were over, he would set up a trip for her to visit the mission station in the village of Shell, take her on a couple flights into the rain forest.
He took a taste of his lasagna and figured he’d found his local lunch hangout. There was a sudden rap on his door, and without waiting for him to answer, Paige stuck her brunette head inside.
“Interrupting you? I couldn’t help it. I just landed us a huge donor!” She did a little cha-cha shuffle.
He couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. “To make up for the one we lost today?”
“Yep, and now I can breathe again. So, I’m headed to the bank. You need anything while I’m out?”
“Nope. But congratulations!”
Just as quickly as she’d popped in, Paige disappeared. The news gladdened him, because his personal goal while working at Char Air was to promote Randy’s charity flights. Next he heard Megan’s squeal and assumed Paige was passing along the good news. This definitely wasn’t South America, but he had to admit, Ohio was growing on him. So was his respect for what his brother had done to promote the charity flights.
CHAPTER 5
On Saturday Megan and her mom went to visit Barbara Troyer. They wanted to help her put up green beans, figuring that since Barbara had found Eli dead in the bean patch, it would be a trying chore for her.
For a parsonage, Barbara’s home was pleasant sized with a large yard. Thankfully with Megan’s allergies, Barbara set them up in the summer kitchen, which wasn’t really a kitchen but a glassed-in porch. Under normal circumstances, it would have been idyllic, the way it looked out over the lawn and garden, edged with tall purple foxglove and a shorter row of yellow snapdragons. The garden contained rows of well-tended vegetables, and a sentry of sunflowers guarded the far end. The view was both beautiful and heartbreaking, given Brother Troyer’s demise. Poor Barbara. Megan remembered what she’d overheard at the funeral, how Barbara wished she hadn’t asked him to weed the garden that day.
They sat on rush-seated, white folding chairs. The summer porch had slick cement flooring, with only two colorful rugs for covering, one at the door going into the house and one at the outside door. It was the perfect place for messy projects. Each woman had half a bucket of beans—the first crop. It wouldn’t take them long to snap off the tips.
“I picked these this morning.” Barbara’s gray-blue eyes saddened, but Megan noticed with relief that they weren’t misty. “The first thing I did was take the rake and … rake the ground where … you know.”
“Somebody should have thought to do that for you,” Mom said.
“No. I needed to do it. It’s just that everything reminds me of Eli. The shed, the house …”
Poor thing. Megan’s throat tightened, glad they’d come.
Mom reached into her pail, drew out a handful of beans, and started snapping. “When did your sister go home?”
“T
hursday. Lots of church people have come to see me. I’m blessed with friends. I have enough food to last me for an entire month. Maybe longer. I probably should share it. Must be someone who needs it more than me.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Megan urged. “You going to freeze these?”
“I usually do.”
“Ever make three bean salad? Lil has the best recipe.”
“Oh?”
Mom laughed. “It’s a thing with Megan and her friends. Katy and Lil call Megan Green Bean.”
Barbara’s expression grew animated. “I didn’t know that. There must be a good story behind that nickname.”
Happy to see a bit of the old Barbara, Megan explained the story. She was ten. They had gone to church camp, and their counselor made them name their group. Lil had insisted they call themselves Three Bean Salad. “Katy was furious because she had to be the kidney bean.”
Barbara laughed. “I can just picture her.”
“I was the green bean because they think Mom stresses good stewardship a little too much. And me, too.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Barbara insisted.
“Exactly!” Mom agreed.
Megan knew Mom had gotten over that insult years earlier, because sometimes her friends still called her Mrs. Green Bean. They called Dad The Blues Man because his hobby was fixing up old Novas, preferably blue. And because there was nothing dismal or blue about Bill Weaver’s personality.
“So Lil was cooking way back then. I’d forgotten that. I should do something different this year. Think I could get Lil’s bean salad recipe?”
Barbara’s buoyancy impressed Megan. “I’ll get it for you. I’ll even help you make it.”
“How fun. Let’s do it in a couple of weeks, when the beans really come in.”
After exchanging a smile with Mom, Megan agreed.
They snapped in silence for a while, and Megan gazed out across the peaceful setting. A hummingbird flitted around some pink tubular flowers then zipped into a dogwood tree. Her gaze following it, she was the first to see the widow Schlagel dart past the pink carnations that lined the short sidewalk curving from the driveway. The woman was a bundle of energy who gave out an aura of constant unease and discontent. When Susanna noticed Megan, she gave a jerky wave.
“Susanna’s here.” Barbara went to the door. “Come in.”
Susanna’s hand flitted to her upswept chestnut brown hair. “What’s going on here?”
“I’ve put them to work.” Barbara unfolded another chair. “Join us?”
“Oh, just for a minute. Can I help?”
“We’re almost done. No need to dirty your hands,” Barbara gestured at the empty chair. “But sit and visit with us.”
Susanna perched with a deep sigh. “This is nice. I miss my garden. Never thought I would. But this time a year, I do. If I could get one of my boys to help in the spring, I’d put one in. But they’re all busy with their own lives.”
“If you really want one, I’m sure we could get someone from church to help you,” Barbara offered.
“Maybe someday.” The lovely widow opened her purse and pulled out a small softcover. “Here’s the book I was telling you about.”
Barbara rose and took the book. “Thanks. I’ll just put it by the door and look at it later.”
Megan couldn’t read the title, but when Barbara turned her back, Susanna exchanged a glance with Megan, causing her spirit to bristle much like it had at the cemetery. She wondered if Mom, who was naturally discerning, felt it, too.
Susanna softened her expression and shifted her brown gaze to Barbara. “I marked the portions we talked about.” Abruptly she stood and folded her chair, resting it against the wall. “I need to go, but would you mind walking me to my car?”
“Sure,” Barbara said, setting her beans to the side and wiping her hands on her apron.
“G’day.” Susanna started to the door and tripped on the throw rug. She righted herself and went outside with Barbara, casting Megan a sour look through the window.
“Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” How could she explain to Mom how the beautiful widow in all her red plumage reminded Megan of a hawk hovering over its prey?
Barbara returned, slightly out of breath. “Out at the car, Susanna offered to stay nights with me.”
“Oh?” Mom replied.
“That’s why she dropped by. Well that and the book. But I turned down the offer. It was thoughtful but not what I’m looking for. I can’t imagine myself in the widows’ group. I’ve always spent some time with the quilters, but you know that widows’ group is a tight circle.” She spoke as if she were sorting out the matter. “I do get along well with Ann Byler. She always sees the best in everybody.”
And tries to quell Susanna’s bitter remarks. Megan couldn’t forget Susanna’s parting look. The woman was recently widowed, younger than the other widows. Only in her forties. Mom had gleaned from Dad’s elders meetings that the woman was bitter and had started several hurtful rumors. Mom felt sorry for her. As a preacher’s wife, Barbara must be aware of Susanna’s actions, too.
It was kind of her not to mention how Susanna started things, told them to Mae, who spread it around. Mae got the blame for being the gossip. This put the third woman in the widow triangle in an uncomfortable position. Ann Byler tried to squelch gossip. She was on the timid side, so the other two pretty much ran over her. If Barbara entered the group, it would change the schematics. Barbara wouldn’t tolerate gossip. But Barbara wasn’t ready to join their group.
Megan kept her thoughts to herself. Although Mom occasionally told her about church matters, both of them kept such things confidential. What Dad brought home from elders meetings stayed within the Weaver household. Unless Katy brought up a matter. Since her dad was also an elder, sometimes they discussed things together. It was a small community. News got around quickly, even with the best intentions. But that was different than initiating spiteful rumors.
A clock inside the house chimed twelve times, drawing Megan’s attention away from her thoughts.
“Noon. And we just finished. I guess we can go blanch these and get them in containers. Then I’ll fix us some lunch from my plentiful donations.” Barbara grinned. “Coming, Green Bean?”
Megan smiled back and stood. Moving to the door, she cast a final glance out the window. The lawn needed mowing. She’d mention it to Dad. He could set up something with the churchmen to take turns mowing. The parsonage would need a man’s upkeep. Maybe Dad had already handled the situation. But what would happen when they got a new preacher? Surely they wouldn’t make Barbara move? Would she even have a garden next year?
Megan handed her dad a wrench and stepped back from the open hood of the classic Nova she drove.
“So what kind of noise was it making again?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Just different. Rough.”
She fetched a bucket, upturned it for a seat, and watched him work. Knowing that he’d gotten home late the night before from one of his church meetings, she asked, “How’s it going with the search committee?” The last she’d heard, in the three weeks since Brother Troyer’s funeral, the search committee had gotten a lot accomplished.
“We got it narrowed down to two candidates.”
“Really?”
“Yep. The first one is coming to meet the congregation. He arrives this Friday night.”
“And he’s staying with us?”
“Umm-hm.”
“Where’s he from? Is he your favorite, since he’s coming first?”
“I’m trying to keep an open mind, and if I tell you too much, it’ll spoil it for you.”
“Not really.”
“His name’s Joe Zimmerman. He’s the professor’s suggestion.”
“Oh.” Megan figured if her stuffy Bible professor recommended him, he’d be … well, like the professor. “And the other one?”
“Ben Detweiler’s one of the bishop�
��s recommendations.”
Both men sounded old. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting until she’d felt disappointed. Restless. That’s how she felt.
Dad drew his head out from under the hood, sporting a twinkle in his eyes. He was up to something, but Megan had no idea what. “Start the engine for me, will you, honey?”
She climbed into the bench seat and turned the ignition key.
“Purring like a kitten now,” Dad boasted. “How’s work?”
“Fine.” She had no intention of giving him any personal details.
“I suppose it would be fun to work on airplanes. Scoot over and let me in. How about we pick up your mom and go to the Dairy Queen? So I can see how it runs.”
Megan quickly moved over. The Nova rumbled out of the garage, and Dad parked it in front of the house. He hit the horn. Soon Mom appeared at the screen door. She placed her hands on her hips.
“What are you two up to?”
“Going to the Dairy Queen.” Megan motioned. “Come with us?”
“Oh!” Mom hurried out then turned back and shut the door. “What’s the occasion?”
“We’re just taking the car on a test run.”
When Megan opened her door, her mom waved her hand. “Stay there. I’ll just hop in the backseat.”
While Dad drove the car, he checked every working part within reach. When he flipped down the sun visor, the Bible verse fell onto his lap. “What’s this?” He picked it up and gave it a glance.
“Nothing.” Megan snatched it away and shoved it into her pocket. In the future, she needed to learn to do her own tune-ups.
“You got a boyfriend?” The question jolted Megan from her paperwork.
She looked at Chance with contrived annoyance. “Check out my personnel files.”
Chance burst into laughter. “Where have I heard that before?”
Her hand involuntarily moved to twist her hair, a habit from years of wearing it long and free. But she’d started wearing it up in a bun at work, so her hand moved through thin air then rested on her skirt. “Why?”
Plain City Bridesmaids Page 67
