by Ruth Reid
A woman met him as he stepped into the office. She looked over the pink rims of her glasses and smiled. “I’m Samantha Paddock.” The salt-and-pepper-haired woman extended her hand and shook his firmly. “You must be from the cabinet shop.”
“Jah, I’m Noah Esh.” He scanned the empty room. The walls were bare, the floors stripped down to the cement, and a makeshift table held a coffeepot and phone.
“Well, as you can see, we’re under construction.” Hammers pounded in an adjoining room. “The area I want to put cabinets is in this room.” She led the way into a larger room where several workers were hanging drywall. “The last owners used this area for their living quarters, but I want to create a sitting and breakfast area.” She pointed to the far wall. “I’d like lower cabinets to line the entire wall.” She leveled her hand a little higher than her waist. “And higher than standard.”
“That won’t be a problem. Are you putting in a sink?”
“Yes, that will go on the end.”
“What about upper cabinets?”
“I was thinking stained glass. Maybe a horse-and-buggy design. I want to incorporate some of the Amish lifestyle in the remodel since the majority of our guests will be interested in Amish farmland tours and sightseeing.”
He forced a smile. Many of the Englischers in the area took advantage of the Amish living in the region to promote their businesses. He just hadn’t come across any who were so blatant about their intentions.
“I can do stained glass, but I’m not an artist. I’ve never attempted anything so elaborate.”
“Hmm . . .” She chewed her bottom lip.
“Maybe you should contact some of the other cabinetmakers in the area.”
She shook her head. “That’s how I got your name. You’re the only one who does stained glass in the area. I suppose I could order it online, but that would defeat having everything done locally. And I’m putting a lot of money into this remodel for that purpose.”
“Perhaps I could look for a template. If I had a pattern to follow, I could probably come up with something.” He liked a challenge, and he didn’t have any major projects lined up at the moment, so he could use the money. But creating a horse and buggy out of glass might be impossible.
Joy’s hands turned clammy the moment Henry pulled off his hat and clutched it against his chest. “I made you some cookies earlier. I’ll get them.” She rushed into the kitchen, needing a moment to settle her galloping heart rate. She swiped the box off the counter and returned. “These are the new peppermint ones I told you about,” she said, opening the flap. “I’m thinking about serving them after the sleigh ride. You know how I like to make—”
“Joy.”
She swallowed hard.
“Are you always going to put the bakery first?”
She glanced at the open box of cookies. “I thought you might like to try one nau is all.”
“I bought a piece of property today. I plan to build a haus in the spring.” He looked down for a moment, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I think you know how I feel. I don’t want mei fraa working outside the home.”
Is that his way of proposing?
“I need to know if you can give up your job.”
She cleared her throat. “It’s more than just a job.” Had Henry forgotten what the bakery meant to her? She had shared with him before how it made her feel close to her parents. How could he expect her to give up the place that kept her parents’ memories alive? The fire had destroyed their family home. The bakery was all she had.
“That’s what I thought.” He turned from the counter and walked toward the door.
“Wait.” She chased him to the door with the box of cookies. “Would you like to take these with you?”
He shook his head, then pulled the door open and tromped out.
Joy gazed around the room, her vision blurred. Lord, I thought if Henry tasted one, he would remember how much baking means to me.
CHAPTER FIVE
“His proposal was conditional.” Joy picked up a bolt of fabric and followed Meredith down the flannel material aisle. “He doesn’t want his fraa working. Nett even at mei family bakery.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I tried to explain how it was more than a job. He didn’t listen.” She lowered the bolt of fabric next to where Meredith placed hers.
“I thought you wanted to win him back.” Meredith removed a pen from above her ear, jotted the yardage on a pad of paper, then tucked the pen back into her kapp.
“I thought I did too.” She followed Meredith to the cutting table. “He said I’ve changed and I’m sure I have, but so has he. He never discouraged me before about working. He used to love everything I baked.” She lowered her head and stared at the metal yardstick attached to the cutting table. “He didn’t want any of the cookies I made him. I guess that should tell me something.”
“You know who does want them.” Meredith elbowed Joy’s side. “You should mail them to the Peppermint Man.”
“At least they wouldn’t go to waste,” Joy muttered.
“Do it.”
“I was joking.”
Meredith pulled the pen from behind her ear and handed it to Joy. “You have his address, right?”
“Jah, it’s in mei handbag.”
Her friend nudged the handbag draped over Joy’s shoulder. “If nothing else, you’ll feel better once they’re out of sight.” Meredith nodded. “You will. If you keep them, they’ll only remind you of Henry.”
A customer entered the shop and Meredith crossed the store to greet the woman.
Maybe her friend was right. She didn’t want the blaring reminder of Henry’s lack of interest, and if she took the cookies home, her brother-in-law might eat them and that wouldn’t be good for his diabetes.
Joy removed the envelope and the note she had started from her handbag. She slipped the note inside and addressed the box. She chuckled while wrapping the box with clear packaging tape. This time he couldn’t complain about her not using enough tape.
Another customer entered the shop. The man’s gaze scanned the room. Studying the quilts hanging on the wall, he nearly stumbled over the braided rug on the floor. Joy pretended not to notice. She looked toward the back room, hoping to get Meredith’s attention.
“Excuse me,” the man said.
Joy turned.
He stared at her a second as if he’d forgotten what he’d wanted. “I was wondering if you could help me.”
“I can try.” She studied him a moment. Dark, wavy hair flipped out from under his hat. He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw and looked again at the wall hangings.
“How do you kumm up with your designs?” He pointed to a wall hanging of a quilted peacock.
“I’ll find out for you.” Joy lifted to her toes and spotted Meredith helping a customer near the shelved bolts of cotton fabrics. She approached the two women. “Excuse me,” she said. “There’s a man wondering about the bird quilt on the wall. He’s interested in the pattern.”
“Patterns in general,” he said, coming up beside Joy. “I’m nett really interested in the bird.”
“Most of them are on a rack near the pegboard of thread,” Meredith said. “There are some over by the quilting magazines too. Do you mind showing him?”
“Sure.” Joy led him over to the larger section first. “What are you thinking about sewing? Maybe I can help you.”
“Nothing.” He pulled one pattern off the rack, turned it over, then returned it. “I’m looking for a horse-and-buggy pattern.”
“What size?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess about so.” He stretched out his arms.
She smiled. “The size of a place mat.”
“Even a potholder would do.” He continued searching.
The man certainly appeared to be in a hurry. Either that or he was very uncomfortable in a fabric store. He was probably the first male customer since the store opened five years a
go. She glimpsed his profile. Tall. Midtwenties. He wasn’t from Sugarcreek. She would have recognized him from Sunday services or as someone she had gone to school with.
“I don’t see anything that could work,” he said. “Do you?”
“I, uh . . .” She shouldn’t have been staring. Now her cheeks heated as though she were in front of a roaring woodstove. “I’ll check by the magazines.”
“Having any luck?” Meredith called out from the cutting table.
“Nett yet.” Joy glanced at the man. “Sorry. I don’t see any here either.”
“Danki for your help.”
He turned to leave when Meredith said, “If you give me a minute, I’ll look through our catalogs. There might be a pattern we can order.”
“Okay.” He circled the perimeter of the room, gazed at the quilts on display, and probably wished he hadn’t agreed to wait when it didn’t seem like the customer Meredith was helping would leave.
Once Meredith rang up the customer’s purchase, she retrieved several thick catalogs from behind the desk. “What pattern were you looking for?”
“A horse and buggy,” he said.
Meredith flipped the pages.
The man leaned against the counter and practically twisted sideways to eye something. After following his line of vision to the pastry box, Joy cleared her throat.
He motioned to the box. “I live in Berlin. Nett far from the cabinet shop,” he said. “I could deliver that for you.”
Meredith looked up from the catalog and smiled.
Joy shook her head. “That—”
“That’s very kind of you.” Meredith set the book aside and swiped the box off the counter before Joy did, then handed it to him.
“Would it be easier if I stop back tomorrow to see if you were able to find a pattern?”
“If it isn’t too much of a bother,” Meredith said. “That would give me time to look through them all. Otherwise you might be here for a while yet.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled and tapped the box. “And I’ll be sure to get this into the right hands.” He strode to the door.
Joy groaned under her breath as the man left the shop. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“I just saved you postage, and the hassle of having to mail it.”
“I go to the post office every day. Besides, I wasn’t even sure I was going to send it.”
Meredith smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that nau.”
“Jah, you practically thrust it at the man.”
“I didn’t force him. He offered.”
Joy scurried to the front window. The man was just getting into his buggy. She still had time to stop him.
Noah set the pastry box on the bench beside him. Noticing the package addressed to his cabinet shop was a pleasant surprise. He wasn’t sure if he would hear from the woman again.
Noah’s mouth watered. He grabbed the white box, but it was taped in such a way that he couldn’t pry it open. She’d gone overboard with the tape this time. He reached under the bench for his jackknife and had the box open before pulling away from the fabric store.
Noah took a bite of the peppermint cookie and chewed it slowly, allowing the sweetness to melt in his mouth. And she enclosed a note. He wished he knew which of the two women was his new pen pal.
The dark-haired woman who handed him the box or the woman with ivory skin and wheat-colored hair who helped him sift through the rack of patterns. He wouldn’t expect a baker to be petite, having to work around sweets like these, especially since she’d mentioned in the first letter how she’d eaten so many that they all tasted the same. Then again, the dark-haired woman seemed to know more about the fabric store.
As he pulled away from the store, he unfolded the note.
My eyesight is perfect. I’ve never worn glasses—not even the rose-colored ones you spoke of.
Short and to the point. Maybe she wasn’t as chatty as he first thought. He selected another cookie. Tomorrow he would make sure he made it to the bakery before they closed.
CHAPTER SIX
The following morning as Noah stepped into the Stolzfus Bakery, the scent of cinnamon awakened his senses. Even though he’d eaten a large breakfast, his stomach still rumbled. He scanned the room. Empty tables. Either the morning rush was over, or a recent mishap with—he took another whiff—burnt cinnamon had driven the customers away.
A woman, squatting behind the glass display case, was busy filling the shelf with pastries.
He bent down. She wasn’t the one who handed him the cookies yesterday.
“I’ll be with you in—” Her eyes met his through the glass. She stood, set the empty pan on the counter, then wiped her hands on her apron. “Can I help you?”
He stared at the flour dust on her forehead.
She cleared her throat.
“I, uh . . .” Noah couldn’t recall the last time he was tongue-tied. He redirected his attention to the glass case and peered at the baked goods. “I thought I smelled cinnamon.”
The bell sounded over the door and a woman entered. “Joy, I think something’s burning.”
“Mei cinnamon rolls!” Joy turned on her heel and sped into the kitchen with the other woman following.
Noah leaned over the counter. He didn’t see any billowing smoke, but the foul scent and the sound of clanging pans caused alarm. “Do you need the fire department?”
“Nay, danki. Everything is fine.” Her voice sounded rushed.
He eased behind the counter and poked his head into the kitchen. “Is there anything I can—?”
The charred substance stuck to the cookie sheet smoked when Joy held it under the running faucet. She fanned the smoke away from her face and coughed. “Will you help the man out front, please?”
“I’m nett in a hurry.” Noah wanted to wait for her. What did the other woman call her, Joy?
But the younger woman motioned for him to follow her out of the kitchen. “Mei sister’s going to be detained. May I help you?”
“I thought I might try a cinnamon roll until I saw them smoking.” He glanced over his shoulder at Joy scrubbing the pan.
The younger sister laughed. “Jah, they’re under water nau. What else can I get for you?”
“Do you have any of the peppermint frosted cookies?” He returned to the customer’s side of the counter.
“Do we have those?” Her brows creased as she searched the display shelves.
“The ones yesterday had chunks of candy on them.” He looked, too, but didn’t see any.
“Let me check in the kitchen.”
He strained to listen but couldn’t decipher the mumbling. A moment later, Joy came out from the kitchen, her balled hands resting on her hips. “You requested the peppermint cookies?”
“Jah.”
“The ones with crushed candy on the frosting?” Her eyes narrowed.
He nodded. “You sent a box to—”
“I know who I sent it to,” she growled under her breath. “So he shared them with you.”
He smiled. “Is there something wrong with that?” Even with a stern expression, she was still cute. He dug his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This is for you.”
Her cheeks blushed. She looked over her shoulder before taking the letter, then quickly folded the envelope in half.
“Aren’t you going to read it?”
“Nay!”
“The cookies were gut,” he said, trying to soften her up.
“Danki.” She stared at the envelope. “How well do you know him?”
More than he dared to admit at the moment. She might chase him out of the bakery with a cookie cutter if he admitted to receiving her mixed-up mail. Noah shrugged. “He builds cabinets.”
“That much I had figured out. You must know him fairly well if he opened the box and offered you a cookie.”
He peered into the glass display. “I was hoping you had more today. But I don’t see any.”
&nb
sp; “Those were a new Christmas cookie.”
He grinned. “Well, I hope I don’t have to wait until Christmas before I have another one.”
She opened her mouth but closed it when her sister sprang from the kitchen. Humming softly, the younger sister went to the coffeepot. “Ach, I didn’t think we still had a customer.” She filled a cup with coffee. “I’ll ring him up, Joy. You can go.”
“Jah, danki. I have a few errands to run.” She turned without making eye contact with him and scooted into the kitchen.
The younger woman approached the display. “Did you decide on anything?”
He pointed to a strawberry pastry. “I’ll take one of those, please.” As she stuffed the treat into a paper bag, he turned and glanced out the front window. Seeing Joy walk past the window, he tossed a few dollar bills on the counter and grabbed the bag.
“Don’t you want your change?”
“Keep it.” He sped out the door. “Joy.” He jogged up to her.
She stashed the letter she’d been reading up her dress sleeve. “How-how do you know mei name?”
“In the bakery. Your sister just—I’m sorry. Did I frighten you?”
“I’m nett used to customers following me.”
He motioned toward the fabric store a couple of blocks ahead. “I was supposed to check today if the fabric store has a horse-and-buggy pattern. Remember?” He eyed her hand clutching the wristband on her dress. “So are you two pen pals nau?”
“By accident,” she muttered. Her blue eyes widened. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “I thought it was nice that you made him Christmas cookies. And you seemed interested in the letter.”
Her cheeks flushed. She started to walk. Fast. “Please tell me he’s Amish.”
“He is.” Noah kept pace.
They reached the curb and stopped. She peered up at the traffic light. “How old is he?”
