by Ruth Reid
“Mei age.” He liked that she showed interest. “How old are you?”
She eyed him sharply. “I don’t tell strangers mei age.”
“Sorry.” He should’ve known women were sensitive about their age if they were in their midtwenties and still unmarried. “You’ve asked about him. What would you like me to say about you?”
“Nothing.”
They waited for a pickup truck to pass through the intersection and then crossed the street together. He couldn’t remember feeling this awkward around a woman before. “You must nett have been a baker long.”
She stopped. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re nett—”
She narrowed her blue eyes.
“You’re nett as big as . . .”
Her jaw dropped.
“I mean—well, you work around sweets all day.” This isn’t going well. “So how long have you been a baker?”
She stared a moment longer, then finally said, “Mei parents bought the bakery ten years ago, but I suppose I’ve been baking since I was old enough to stand on a stool next to mei mamm and stir cake batter.”
“A family business. That’s nice.”
Her steps paused, but instead of directing her attention to him, she faced the building.
Now what did he say wrong? It occurred to him then how in one of her letters she mentioned her parents were deceased. He opened his mouth to apologize, but her interest was elsewhere.
She rose to her tiptoes and peered into the front window of the hardware store. Her expression sobered, and she dropped back down and continued walking. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
He shook his head. Nothing important. He glanced over his shoulder. Gingrich Hardware. Not the typical store where a woman would window-shop, but something in her expression conveyed it wasn’t merchandise she was looking for.
Joy increased her pace. This man walking beside her asked too many questions. He probably thought she hadn’t figured out that he was interviewing her on the cabinetmaker’s behalf. She’d already said more than she wished, especially since she didn’t even know the man’s name. He liked peppermint cookies and wanted to buy a pattern of a horse and buggy. What was she doing walking with a stranger? A shudder went through her.
“Are you kalt?”
“Nay.” Even if she were, she wouldn’t have admitted it. What would he do? Offer her his coat? Once they reached the fabric store, she stopped. “Well, good luck with finding your pattern.”
“You’re nett going in?”
Joy shook her head. “I have to pick up supplies at the dry goods store.” Why was she making up excuses?
“Danki for allowing me to walk with you.” He reached for the door handle.
Joy nodded, then continued on her route. A few feet away, she retrieved the crumpled letter.
Dear J.,
You didn’t say much in your letter. Did I hurt your feelings about the rose-colored glasses?
“Joy?” the friendly man called.
She wadded up the paper and turned slowly to face him. “Jah?”
He glanced at her hand and grinned. “If you’re going to make cinnamon rolls tomorrow, will you set a dozen aside for me to buy?”
“Sure.”
He grinned. “I’ll let you get back to reading your letter.”
Thankfully he turned before the heat crawling up her neck reached her face.
“Don’t keep saying the bakery’s in trouble.” Joy looked to her older sister to challenge Matthew’s statement, but Lois merely nodded with her husband.
“You can’t say that you didn’t see this coming.” Matthew folded his hands and rested them on the table. “We didn’t get the fall tourism like we needed. The early rain stripped the trees of their leaves and no one goes on scenic tours when there’s nothing to see. I’m sorry. I know how much the bakery means to you, Joy.”
“Nett just me.” She stared at Lois. “This is all we have left of Mamm and Daed. The fire took everything else.”
“They wouldn’t want it to become a burden,” Lois said.
“A burden! That’s nett how I see it and I’m at the bakery more hours than everyone.” Of course, she hadn’t had a paycheck in a year. Perhaps her living with her sister and brother-in-law had become burdensome for them. “Are you upset that Sarah and I are living here and we haven’t been able to help you financially?”
“Nay,” Matthew said.
“I know having us here must be imposing. You’ve supported us and bought feed for our horses. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”
“Joy.” Lois reached across the table and clasped Joy’s hands. “We love having you and Sarah here. But it doesn’t change the fact that the bakery isn’t making a profit.”
“Does Sarah know?”
Lois glanced at her husband, then back to Joy. “We wanted to tell you first.”
“We have to be open for the sleigh ride. Mamm and Daed started the Second Christmas tradition. Everyone in the district makes plans to attend.”
Matthew sighed. “It might nett be possible.”
“I’ll figure out things to cut. We don’t need to carry the specialty desserts. The ones with pecans . . .” Joy mentally compiled a list. Dates were expensive; she wouldn’t reorder them either.
“I don’t think that will be enough.” Matthew frowned.
“I’ll sell more bread.”
“You can sell bread even if the bakery closes,” he said. “Bake it here.”
Apparently the decision had already been made. Tears spilled down Joy’s cheeks as she closed her eyes. Lord, please don’t let this happen. Please.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Joy made a quick inventory of the bakery’s supplies the following morning. She had plenty of staples: flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. At least this week she could avoid the market, maybe even next week. If she reduced the batch sizes and was careful not to burn anything, they could put off closing the shop a bit longer. Maybe even for good.
God, will You please send us more customers? As though God prompted her memory, the order for a dozen cinnamon rolls came to mind. She’d mixed the ingredients earlier, so the dough should have had enough time to rise. Joy hoped the man would remember his order. The last thing she wanted was a display cabinet full of unsold rolls.
Once the pan was in the oven, she set the timer. She wouldn’t chance a distraction that could cause her to forget. Joy leaned against the counter. It seemed odd not having more to make. Usually as one batch baked, she prepared the next. She grabbed the broom and swept the floor before the timer dinged. Joy removed the rolls from the oven, drizzled them with frosting, and placed them in a box once they cooled.
Hours later, she drummed her fingernails on the counter. Lord, would You please remind the man about the order he placed? And would You remind Sarah that she’s late? Again. Joy tapped the counter faster. Sarah certainly wasn’t upset last night when Lois brought up the possibility of closing the bakery. Joy half-expected her sister to stroll in any moment and announce she’d made other plans for the day.
Joy wandered out of the kitchen. She scanned the display cabinet. If the man didn’t pick up his order, she could squeeze them in on the bottom shelf. They probably wouldn’t all sell before turning stale. She checked the coffee level in the pot, then sat down at one of the tables with a piece of paper and pen. Without customers to wait on, she had time to write a letter.
Dear Cabinetmaker,
I can’t believe I’m admitting this to you, but you were right. My vision isn’t as clear as I had thought (long story so I’ll spare you having to listen to me ramble). As you said in one of your letters, I’m a pushover. My sister doesn’t think anything about coming into work late. She’s more interested in securing a marriage proposal than the bakery’s success. I’m the only one who cares if it stays open.
I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear my problems. But the next time I take an advance order for a dozen cinnamon rolls, I’m asking for
the money up front. Well, maybe not—after all, I am a pushover.
The bell over the door jingled and Joy looked up.
“Gut mariye.” The handsome man smiled.
“Hello.” Joy folded the letter, stuffed it into an envelope, and stood. “I have the rolls you ordered in the back. I’ll get them.” Taking the letter with her, she went into the kitchen. She set the envelope on the counter and grabbed the pastry box.
“Your morning rush is over, I take it?”
Joy shook her head. “You’re mei first customer.” She placed the box on the counter. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Nett unless you have an idea for a stained glass window design that doesn’t involve a horse and buggy.”
“So that was why you were looking for a pattern?” She smiled. “I suppose you don’t look like a quilter.”
“Danki.” His cheeks turned a dark beet shade.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
He shrugged. “Why do you think I drove over to another town? I wasn’t going to risk one of mei friends seeing me enter a fabric store.”
“Oh, that would be traumatizing.” She chuckled.
“You have no idea.”
She sobered and stood taller. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He smiled.
“Besides, it wouldn’t be much fun to gossip about you since I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Noah. But I’m still holding you to our secret.”
She removed the order slip from the side of the box. “Since you’re the best customer I’ve had all morning, I guess I will.” If this was her only sale today, she dreaded having to give the report to Matthew at the supper table tonight. Now that she knew why he was so curious about sales, it made seeing empty tables stressful.
The bell dinged and Sarah poked her head in. “Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to work today.” She ducked out.
“It figures,” Joy muttered.
Noah’s brows lifted.
“I should be used to it. Mei sister isn’t . . . interested in smelling like a brownie.”
“I don’t know why nett. I’m rather fond of the scent.” He motioned to the box next to the register. “I hope mei Englisch customer is drawn to the scent of cinnamon rolls. Maybe eating one will help when I tell her about nett finding a horse-and-buggy pattern.”
“She wants something Amish?”
“According to her, the entire motel is being remodeled to attract tourists seeking a glimpse of our Amish way.”
More visitors in the area might increase the bakery sales. Providing the bakery stayed open. She rang up his order. “What about doing the window in a quilt design?”
Noah smiled. “That’s a gut idea.” He handed her cash, then picked up the box. “Danki.”
“You’re welkom.”
He took a few steps away from the counter and stopped. “Did you want me to take the letter you were writing to your pen pal?”
“How do you know who I was writing to? And why do you keep calling him mei pen pal?”
He shrugged and contorted his lips into a lopsided smile.
She hesitated. It would save her from buying a stamp. Any savings would help. “Can you give me a minute?”
“Absolutely.”
She retreated into the kitchen. After jotting Cabinetmaker on the front of the envelope, she took it out front.
Noah reached for it.
“Wait.” She withdrew the letter. She’d have a little fun with him. “How do I know this will reach him unopened?”
He chuckled. “The letter I brought to you was sealed, jah?”
The door opened before she could answer. Lois looked around the empty room and frowned.
Joy handed Noah the envelope, silently praying he wouldn’t say anything in front of Lois about her pen pal.
Noah offered a cinnamon roll to the motel owner, Mrs. Paddock, as he used Joy’s suggestion of making the glass cabinets look like quilt blocks. “There’s a fabric store on Third Street and they have several quilts hanging on the walls. You could pick one out that you want me to copy.”
A simple block pattern wouldn’t take much to create out of glass. He hadn’t ever sweated over a job proposal before this one. Working on the motel cabinets would give him an excuse to drive over here regularly. After talking earlier with Joy, he wanted to get to know her better. He hoped he wouldn’t lose his chance once he confessed to writing the letters. Noah wiped his sleeve across his forehead. Just the thought of telling Joy that he was her pen pal made him sweat.
Mrs. Paddock placed her free hand on her hip. The woman took a bite of the roll and smiled. She walked the perimeter of the room, staring at the walls as if she were seeing it for the first time. “I think it could work.”
Noah let out a breath.
“I assume they sell the display quilts.”
“I can certainly find out.”
“Do you have time to look at the displays today? I would like to decide on the pattern so you can get busy. I still want this finished by Christmas. A block of rooms have already been reserved for a group of cross-country skiers.”
“Sure, how about now?” He didn’t want anything to stand in the way of securing this job. Christmas was less than two months away.
“I have a few phone calls to make before I can leave.”
“That’s fine. It takes me longer to get into town in mei buggy. I’ll meet you there.” Until she selected the design, he wouldn’t know if he had to order any special glass colors and that wouldn’t be before Monday.
She nodded and then took another bite of the roll. “This is really good.”
Noah smiled. “I think so too.” He’d eaten two of them on his way to the motel and would have eaten more had it not been for a sugar rush that made him shaky. Usually too much caffeine affected him that way, not sweets.
Noah headed to the door. He wasn’t sure how long Mrs. Paddock’s calls would take, but his ol’ mare, Cracker, wasn’t as fast as she used to be. He didn’t want to keep Mrs. Paddock waiting.
He reached for the door as she said, “Did you want to take the rest of your rolls?”
“Nay, share them with your work crew.” He continued walking outside.
Noah removed Cracker’s blanket and folded it. This morning when he hitched the buggy, he wasn’t sure if the gray clouds meant rain or snow. So far it hadn’t done either. Climbing onto the bench, he noticed Joy’s unopened letter. The traffic had been too heavy to read it earlier. He smiled, recalling the flicker in her eye when she playfully snatched the letter back. But once the customer entered the store, it was as if Joy panicked the way she shoved it into his hand.
He clicked his tongue and Cracker’s ears perked as she increased the pace. He wasn’t on the road long before it started to rain. It turned to sleet as he reached the outskirts of town. A Closed sign hung in the bakery window. He wasn’t sure what type of vehicle Mrs. Paddock drove, but he hoped the parking lot at the fabric store was empty so he could sit and read Joy’s letter.
He parked next to another buggy and spread the blanket over his horse. The letter would have to wait as several cars lined the building. He pressed his straw hat further on his head, but that didn’t keep his earlobes from numbing in the icy rain.
Inside the fabric store a blast of heat met him. So did Joy.
She wiggled her brows. “I must’ve been wrong earlier. This is two days in a row that you’ve visited the fabric store. Have you decided you want to learn how to sew?”
“Only if you’re teaching the class.”
Her eyes widened and she motioned to the opposite side of the room. “Meredith is with another customer. Is there something I can help you find?”
“I gave your suggestion to the motel owner and she’s going to stop in and pick out a quilt she likes. They are for sale, right?”
“Yes, but I’ll have to find out the price.”
“You might as well wait until she selects o
ne,” he said when she started to turn.
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Can I put a bakery order in for Monday?”
She smiled. “Cinnamon rolls again?”
“Surprise me.”
“So you want a dozen of . . . anything?”
He nodded. Anything that would give him a reason to see her again.
“Do you like chocolate? Nuts? Any allergies?”
Occupied by answering Joy’s questions, he didn’t notice Mrs. Paddock approach until she spoke.
“I think we might get snow tonight,” Mrs. Paddock said, her attention already drawn to the quilts.
He made a half shrug at Joy and trailed the Englischer to the different quilts. Several of them would be easy to copy. Most were straight cuts arranged in colorful block patterns.
“I like this one.” She pointed to the quilt of roses in the shape of a heart.
He studied the design. Not one simple cut.
“Can you do it?”
Noah cocked his head. “That’s—a lot of work.” A horse and buggy would have been simpler even without a pattern. He would have to start the project immediately. Since tomorrow wasn’t their Sunday to host the district services, he would be tempted to skip the afternoon fellowship to work in his shop. But his father, the district bishop, would disapprove. Besides, Noah would never challenge the Ordnung. The only work permitted on Sundays was tending livestock. Still, he would have to work night and day to finish by Christmas.
Joy stepped closer. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Paddock said. “Could you tell me the price of this quilt?”
“Excuse me while I get the information.”
“You haven’t seen them all.” Noah motioned to the back of the store. “There are more displayed on the back wall.”
Mrs. Paddock moved in that direction while he held his breath. But in the end, she still liked the rose quilt the best.
Joy returned. “It’s seven hundred.”
