by Ruth Reid
Had Noah leaked the news?
Her sister’s voice faded into the background of Joy’s reeling thoughts as Lois and Mrs. Paddock went into the kitchen.
Meredith elbowed Joy’s side. “Aren’t you going to go with them?”
She shook her head. “I need a few minutes.”
“Isn’t she the one who bought the rose quilt?”
Joy nodded. “She’s the woman Noah was making the stained glass for. And he must be the worker who told her about the bakery possibly closing.”
“You really think so?”
“He’s the only one who has bought pastries and cookies every day. Three dozen at a time.”
“Aenti Joy.” Philip sidled up beside her. “May I have a doughnut?”
Joy looked into the pleading eyes of her nephew and smiled. “Sure, pick which one you want.”
The young boy pointed to the one with sprinkles on the frosting.
Joy placed the doughnut on a napkin and led him to one of the tables. After instructing him not to get crumbs on the floor, she turned to Meredith. “Do you have a few minutes to watch him?” Now that she’d had time to compose herself, she wanted to find out more about the motel owner.
“I have all afternoon,” Meredith said.
Joy swept her hand over imaginary wrinkles on her apron and took a deep breath. Then the sound of the bell above the door caught her attention.
Noah smiled. “Gut afternoon.” His gaze darted from her, over to Meredith, then Philip, and back to Joy. His smile dropped. “Is something wrong?”
Joy marched toward him. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?” She pointed at the door. “Outside?”
“Jah, I wanted to talk with you about something too.”
She pushed the door open.
Noah hesitated. “Don’t you want to put a coat on? It’s kalt out . . . here.”
She continued out the door. “This won’t take long.” Leaving the shop, she crossed her arms as the icy breeze sent a chill down her back.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“That’s what I want to know.” She fought to control her shivers. “The motel owner you’re doing the stained glass for is here.”
A low growl escaped his mouth. He stared at the ground, his jaw twitching.
“Apparently one of her workers has been bringing in sweets from here and talking about this place.”
He lifted his head. “Is that why you’re upset?” Relief washed over his face as though her concerns were trivial.
“So it was you. You took the motel bakery items.”
“To share with everyone. What’s wrong with that?”
She looked up at the bakery sign attached to the building and her throat tightened. “You’re right. It is kalt out here.”
A long stretch of silence fell over the supper table that evening. Even Matthew, who was in favor of selling the bakery, didn’t say much after Lois shared the details.
Joy pushed the uneaten peas across her plate. She had prayed for God’s will and had tried to prepare herself to accept God’s decision, yet she was still struggling to understand.
“Mrs. Paddock said she would have her lawyers draw up an official offer,” Lois said. “She wanted to send an inspection team in to look at the appliances and an accountant to review the records, but I told her she would have to make arrangements with you after our Christmas sleigh ride.”
Matthew nodded.
Lois’s idle chatter continued until she must have realized no one was responding.
A few moments passed. This time Sarah broke the silence. “Well, I think it’s great news.” She paused as if waiting for someone to agree. When even Matthew didn’t, she said, “I’m glad I told her that we might close the bakery.”
“You told her that?” Joy said.
“Jah, the other day. She wanted to talk with someone about opening an account with us, and said something about serving our pastries in the motel breakfast room. I told her we probably wouldn’t be open much longer.”
A ball of fire rose to the back of Joy’s throat. She closed her eyes as an image of Noah’s confused expression crossed her mind.
“Joy, I don’t know if you were in the room when Mrs. Paddock mentioned hiring you to run the bakery,” Lois said, buttering a biscuit.
“I heard her.”
“At least nau you’ll be able to receive a paycheck for all your hard work.” Her sister handed a sourdough biscuit to Philip.
“And I’ll probably have someone interested enough in the bakery to show up on time to relieve me too,” Joy scoffed. If her sisters cared, they could figure some way to save the bakery. Together. As a family.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Sarah said. “You want me to feel guilty for being happy. I can’t help that I never liked working there.”
“It was Mamm and Daed’s dream,” Joy said through gritted teeth.
“Jah, and after they died, you coveted the place.”
Matthew cleared his throat and furrowed his brows. “Can we finish this discussion after supper?”
Joy poked at her food.
Once Philip finished eating and was dismissed from the table, Matthew resumed the conversation. “I realize selling the bakery is an emotional topic, and understandably so. But we should all be mindful of one another’s feelings. Your parents wouldn’t have wanted the bakery to cause division in the family.”
Joy bowed her head. As painful as it was, her brother-in-law was right. Despite her sisters’ acceptance of the sale, Joy couldn’t help but wonder if they had done everything possible.
“Joy,” Lois said softly. “Matthew has talked the power company into extending credit two months in a row. The water bill is behind too.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t think it would come to this,” Matthew said. “Last year the fall color tours carried us through the winter. I assumed this year they would again, but the rain destroyed the season.”
“I didn’t know either.” Sarah frowned. “I should have been more sensitive. I’m sorry.”
Joy reached for her younger sister’s hand and gently squeezed it. “Me too.”
Tears streamed down Lois’s cheeks. “I wish there was some other way.” She clasped her hands with Joy and Sarah. “We can get through this together, right?”
Joy gave Lois’s hand a gentle squeeze and nodded. They kept each other strong after the fire. They would make it through this difficult time as well. Just as Joy accepted the bakery’s fate, another thought caused an unexpected heaviness to fill her chest. She might never see Noah again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Joy weaved through the packed crowd of late arrivals while silently wishing Noah would walk through the bakery door. The sleigh ride was about to start. She hoped he hadn’t changed his mind, but after the other day, she would understand if he never wanted to see her again.
Joy spotted an empty cookie tray on the long refreshment table and carried it into the kitchen to refill it.
Meredith trailed Joy. “Your dress is beautiful. I love that shade of green.”
Joy gazed at her dress fondly. “Mamm made it for me . . . our last Christmas together.” She busied herself with restocking the serving dish. “She knew mei favorite color was evergreen.”
Her friend motioned to the tray. “Everyone loves the fudge cookies.”
“Jah, they seem to be the favorite this year,” Joy said, adding, “the last year,” under her breath. She arranged the cookies into rows.
“I see you made peppermint ones too.” Meredith wiggled her brows.
“I’ve always planned on serving them tonight.”
“I’m sure the hazardous roads have kept Noah away, otherwise he would be here.”
“Nay.” Joy shook her head. “After I accused him the other day and didn’t even give him a chance to talk, I don’t blame him for nett wanting to see me.”
Meredith’s eyes widened. “I think I heard the bell over the door.”
Joy hadn’t heard anything but the sound of lighthearted laughter from the other room. Yet when Meredith rushed to the kitchen’s entrance and stood on her tiptoes to peek at the newcomers, Joy’s heart raced. “Is it?”
“Nay.” Her friend frowned. “It’s Henry.”
“Oh.” She turned away to shield her disappointment.
Sarah poked her head into the kitchen long enough to deliver the news about the sleigh ride starting.
Meredith laced her arm around Joy’s elbow. “You’re still riding with Walter and me, right?”
“I think I’ll wait here for everyone to return. There are still a few things to get ready.”
“Please kumm. I’ll help you when we get back.”
Joy shook her head. “With the bakery closing after tonight, I’d like to spend some time alone anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Jah.” Joy nudged her friend forward. “You and Walter have a gut time. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
The crowd thinned as people went out to the parked buggies.
Lois wrapped a knitted scarf around Philip’s neck, then sent him out the door with Matthew. “I think everything is all set for when we get back,” Lois said, tying the ribbon of her winter bonnet under her chin. “Aren’t you going on the ride, Joy?”
“I thought I’d stay here and straighten up.” Her words caught in the back of her throat. She smiled, hoping her sister didn’t notice.
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
“I’ll be all right. Besides, you stayed behind the last two years.” She walked her sister to the door. “Have fun and stay warm.”
“We won’t be long,” Lois said, shuffling out into the blowing snow.
Joy stood at the window and waved as the buggies pulled away one at a time. The special sleigh runners allowed the buggies to glide with ease over the snow. She recalled the previous years when she rode with Henry and how she’d hung on his every word, anticipating his proposal. It all seemed so silly now. Especially since he’d left with Priscilla tonight and seeing them together hadn’t stirred even a morsel of envy. Her only regret now was how things ended with the two men she’d come to have feelings for. She wished she could find the words to explain why she had stopped writing, but she couldn’t do that without telling him she’d developed feelings for him.
Her gaze dropped to the floor. Muddy from foot traffic and wet from melting snow, it needed mopping. Besides, she didn’t have much to do besides prepare the hot cocoa. She filled a bucket with sudsy water and soaked the mop. Careful not to spill water on herself, she mopped the area and took the dirty water outside to discard. The cold wind sent a shiver down her spine. Everyone would want hot cocoa tonight.
Joy pulled one of the oversized soup pots down from the wire shelf. It was probably too early to start warming the milk, but she wanted everything ready. She set the container of cocoa next to the stove as the bell over the front door jingled. She glanced at the wall clock. Where had the time gone?
Joy grabbed a dishrag and, wiping her hands, walked into the front room. “Did the kalt wedder force you—?”
“I hope it’s all right that I’m late.” Noah swept his hand over the snow-covered shoulder of his coat.
“Jah . . . I, um—you must be kalt.” She motioned to the kitchen. “I was getting ready to make cocoa. I’ll make you a mug. It’ll only take a minute. Do you like marshmallows? I have both large and small.” She hated that her words had tumbled out so quickly, and she tried to calm her excitement. “The small marshmallows would probably—”
“Joy.” He crossed the distance between them. “We need to talk.”
Joy’s fretting wouldn’t concern Noah if it wasn’t for how things were left the last time they were together. She’d offered him cocoa, but why was she fumbling over her words as though they were strangers? His stomach soured. “I, ah—I have something to tell you.”
Voices flooded the bakery.
“They’re back.” She might as well have flicked a rein for the way she vaulted into action.
Why did everyone have to return now? Just when he’d finally mustered the courage to confess.
“The milk for the cocoa is outside in a snowbank.” She whizzed by him toward the back door.
He caught her arm as she reached for the handle. Heat ignited his core. “I’m nett the person you think I am.”
“I know.”
He swallowed hard. “You do?” How long had she known? He opened his mouth just as several women swarmed the kitchen.
Meredith raised her brows while the others held a stoic expression.
He dropped his hand from Joy’s arm and took a few steps away.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” one woman said. “I’m Joy’s sister Lois.”
Unlike Joy’s younger sister, who looked nothing like Joy, her older sister had the same small nose, big blue eyes, and sweet smile as Joy.
It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that Noah realized he hadn’t responded. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Noah.”
Joy’s cheeks turned a rosy shade. “I should get the milk,” she said.
“I’ll bring it in.” He bolted outside. The cold air caught in his throat and he coughed. Noah located the metal milk can and carried it inside.
The women’s chatter hushed when he reentered and set the container on the counter. Joy thanked him without making eye contact. He motioned to the front room where the men were visiting and backed away from the group. “I don’t want to be in your way.” He rounded the corner as the women’s chatter rose and paused. Noah stood among the aprons dangling from a wall hook to listen.
One woman’s voice above the others asked Joy how she knew the young man.
“He’s Mrs. Yoder’s great-nephew from Berlin.”
That was it? Aenti Lavern’s nephew? At least Joy could have referred to him as a new friend. Noah waited to hear if Joy said anything else, but the topic shifted to his absentminded aunt. Noah joined the men loitering around the refreshment table.
He grabbed a plate from the stack and stood in line. Most of the cookies were ones he had tried. He selected his favorites—the frosted peppermint cookie, a brownie nut fudge bar, the oatmeal cranberry walnut cookie, and the one Joy called the snowball surprise—then meandered over to the window. Not too many people wanted to stand next to the drafty window, so it gave him a place to escape the crowd.
As he munched on a cookie, he stared out the window. It was too dark to see outside, but the reflection off the plate glass gave him a glimpse of the room. He noticed Joy’s reflection walking toward him before she spoke.
“I brought you a cup of cocoa.”
He turned to face her and accepted the warm mug. “Danki.”
“After the other day, I wasn’t sure if I would see you again,” she said in a melancholy tone that touched his heart.
“You thought I’d pass up a chance to eat your cookies?”
“It’s just that—” Joy turned when her friend and a man slightly taller than Noah approached.
“Walter, this is Noah. Noah lives in Berlin.”
“I think I saw you at our Sunday service a couple of weeks ago,” Walter said.
Noah nodded. “Mei father was the visiting bishop.”
“It’s nice that you could kumm back. So how were the roads?”
“A few patches of ice, but nett too bad.”
Walter talked about the expected snowfall.
Noah liked meeting new people, but tonight he found himself distracted—dazed by Joy’s nonchalant reaction. On his way here, he’d rehearsed how he would break the news of being her pen pal. That part was easier than he expected, but he still didn’t know how she felt—why she stopped writing.
Cold air blasted into the room as the door opened and closed. He caught a glimpse of Meredith elbowing Joy’s ribs and motioning with her head toward the door. Noah looked over his shoulder.
The newcomer’s hat was snow-covered. H
e stretched his neck to look over the crowd. Noah might not have thought much of it, but Joy stepped away from their group and drifted over to that side of the room.
Noah turned to his side, coughed into his hand, then made up a flimsy excuse about needing a glass of water. Then instead of getting a drink, he slipped out the door. He couldn’t stand by and watch her with another man. Noah trekked across the snowy parking area to his horse and buggy under the lamppost. He removed the horse’s wool blanket and folded it in half.
“Noah, will you wait a minute?” Joy plowed through the drifts from the back side of the building and jogged to his buggy, carrying a pastry box. She placed one hand on her chest as if to calm her heavy breathing. “I didn’t know—you were leaving—so soon.”
Another time he might have taken it as a compliment that she rushed to catch him before he left. But he had just witnessed her scurrying across the room to meet someone else.
“It’s late. Besides, the weather isn’t that great and I have a long drive.” He would drive in a blizzard if she gave him reason to.
“So you were going to leave without saying good-bye?”
“You were busy.” He opened the buggy door and tossed the horse blanket inside.
She sighed. “That was rude of me to walk away, but—” She lowered her head.
“But what? You wanted to thank someone that you invited for coming?”
“Jah, sort of.” She lifted her head. “I didn’t recognize him as someone from our district. I thought—I thought he was the cabinetmaker.”
“What . . . ?” He choked.
She drew back her head in visible surprise. “Narrisch, I know. We’re nett pen pals anymore—”
“Excuse me,” he said. “You stopped writing. Nett him.”
The glow from the streetlamp flickered in her eyes as she stared at him.
His mind reeled. What was the conversation about in the kitchen? “When I told you earlier that I’m nett the person you think I am, what did you think I meant?”
She lowered her head. “I falsely accused you of telling Mrs. Paddock about the bakery closing.”
“I only suggested she might consider ordering doughnuts to serve the motel guests. I had hoped it would bring you more business.”
