“And she let us leave them up until after Valentine’s Day.”
“When she hung up red lights,” Grace added.
“And remember the Christmas snow globes with our photos inside? We each had one. I wonder if they’re still tucked away somewhere in the apartment.” Serena hoped so. They were reminders of wonderful holidays with Mom and Dad.
Next they ducked into an antique store that was so full of things, there was barely room to move. Squat tables and desks were covered with platters and doilies that held more bowls and small items like jewelry chests, books, and fake fruit. Most things struck Serena as being dusty and sad, and she wondered what made something truly an antique. Did things qualify just because they were old? Even if the finish was chipping off and the legs were uneven?
The one dresser she could find in the store looked like it had belonged to Benjamin Franklin two hundred years ago. She opened a drawer and crinkled her nose at the dust and dirt accumulated in the corner. No way would she be tucking her clothes away in there.
But this was fun. Walking down Main Street with Grace, popping in and out of stores, Serena felt like her old city-girl self again. It was a beautiful day, not too humid, with a clear blue sky, and she knew she looked good in her thin strapped top, tight black shorts, and strappy sandals. Shopping was right up her alley, a way to chat with people, joke around, and move on before she got bored. If there’d been a shopping class in high school, Serena would have aced it with her hands tied behind her back.
It was after they had crossed Main Street and were wending their way back to the restaurant that she found it. A shop called Joyful Gems, an adorable little boutique that sold everything from soaps to furniture, had a reconditioned dresser in a cool shade of turquoise with a distressed finish. The decorative cracks and dents were filled in with metallic silver that made the surface sparkle in certain light. The drawers were lined with pretty flowered paper, and the knobs were cut crystal.
The only thing that wasn’t perfect about the dresser was the price.
“Eight hundred?” Serena burst out, maybe a little too loudly. “Does that mean dollars?”
The shopkeeper, a round, middle-aged woman who struggled to move through the store, smiled at Serena’s reaction. “Eight hundred is right for that piece. It’s green teal, the color of the moment, and the dresser has good bones.”
Serena pressed her lips together as she circled the dresser again. She tried to find something wrong with it, but that was impossible. It was perfect, and she wanted it so badly!
But eight hundred dollars was a lot.
“Can we barter?” she asked.
The shop owner straightened and peered at her through violet-tinted glasses. “What price were you thinking of?”
Serena pressed her fingertips to her mouth, wishing she had the credit card Dad had taken away. “I don’t know. I really love it, and I’d be giving it a really good home.”
The woman nodded sagely. “I’m glad you like it, but it’s not a puppy. Honestly, I can afford to let it sit here for the next year until the right buyer comes along.”
“No, don’t sell it to someone else. I really love it. Can you hold on to it for me until I talk to my aunt and uncle about it?”
“I suppose so.” The woman took a notebook and pen from behind the sales counter. “My name is Janice. Write down your name and number, and I’ll give you a call if someone else makes an offer.”
“Thank you.” Serena jotted down her information quickly. “I’ll be back soon. I just have to talk to them.”
At that point Grace was watching with an astounded expression. Serena handed back the notebook and made a beeline toward the door. Grace hurried out after her.
“What was that about? Have you gone bonkers?”
“It’s so beautiful. Maybe Aunt Miriam will agree when she sees it.”
“Aunt Miriam doesn’t have eight hundred dollars to throw down on a stupid dresser for you.”
“It’s for all of us.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “We need to go. Megan texted, and they’re getting close to us.”
“Don’t tell Megan about the dresser. She’ll say I’m materialistic. You know how she loves to tear me down.”
“You give her so much ammunition.”
“Just let me handle it,” Serena said. She was used to getting people to see things her way. “I’ll figure it out.”
* * *
That evening Serena waited and watched for the right time to spring news of the dresser on her aunt and uncle. Dinner was a simple meal—sandwiches, fresh veggies, and leftovers. Serena had expected a big, gut-busting country dinner, but Aunt Miriam explained that the Amish observed Sunday as a day of rest—and that gave her a day off in the kitchen, too. Serena was glad that she and her sisters had splurged on burgers earlier, but she had to admit that the leftover chicken combined with homemade pickles made a delicious sandwich.
After the simple meal, the dinner cleanup took little time. When the kids were out playing kickball and her aunt and uncle moved to the porch glider, Serena knew it was time to strike. She stepped onto the porch and sat down in the swing across from them. “So I may have solved a problem today when we went into town.”
Aunt Miriam gave her an encouraging nod.
“Remember we talked about getting a dresser? Well, I found one at a little shop on Main Street. It would be perfect for me to share with Megan and Grace. That way we could get our suitcases off the floor and store them away.”
“That would be good,” Miriam agreed.
“It’s an old dresser that someone restored. It’s a beautiful shade of teal, with a silver distressed finish. It’s part of that whole reclamation movement in furniture design.”
“We wouldn’t know anything about that,” Miriam said. “I know some women who design quilts, but furniture design, no.”
Uncle Alvin put his Amish newspaper down on his lap. “Plain folk don’t have fancy furniture.”
“It’s not too fancy. It’s beautiful in a subtle way.” Serena explained how amazing it was—crystal knobs, and all—and told them it was expensive, but absolutely worth the price.
“How much?” Alvin asked.
“Eight hundred dollars.”
He laughed out loud, exchanging an amused look with Aunt Miriam. “For a used dresser? I think maybe you made a mistake on the price.”
“No.” A queasy feeling cramped Serena’s stomach. Doubt. “I spoke with the saleslady. That’s the price.”
“That’s too much,” Miriam said. “And that’s for a used dresser? Think of what they would charge for a new one.”
“This one was better than new because . . .” Serena had to consider why it mattered. “Because someone put time and creativity into it and made it like a work of art.”
“That pretty?” Miriam nodded over her knitting. “There’s been many a quilt that’s caught my eyes over the years, and the handmade ones are always hundreds of dollars. I know what you mean when you say something is so pleasing to the eye. Too bad it’s so expensive.”
Serena felt her sweet treasure slipping away. “What if I pay for it? I’ll get money from my dad or something.” She knew she couldn’t ask her dad for that kind of money. “I’ll get a job. I’m a hard worker.”
“But you’re going to be in school soon,” Miriam said. “That will take much of your time.”
“I’ll work after school, and weekends. Please, I have to have this dresser.”
Aunt Miriam stopped knitting. “We’re not stopping you. You’re eighteen years old, and you can buy what you want. But we don’t have that kind of money, and I know the same is true of your father. So you can buy it, if you can pay for it.”
“I don’t have any money right now. But I’ll work for it.”
“I could probably find you a job,” Alvin said. “They need some extra hands at the pretzel factory in town.”
“I’ll do it,” Serena said. “I’ll save every penny for the dresser.”<
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“I’ll talk to the owner,” her uncle said. “But I wonder about the value of a piece of furniture, even one so beautiful, as you say. There’s a difference between good sound reasons and reasons that sound good.”
Serena squinted at him, wondering if he meant to sound like Yoda from the Star Wars movies.
“In the meantime, maybe we can find an old dresser you can use, so you’ll have a place to put your clothes,” suggested Aunt Miriam.
The thought of keeping her stuff in a dusty old thing, like the dirty dresser in that antique store, was such a turnoff. “I don’t want something old,” she said.
“But you said that the expensive one was old,” her uncle pointed out.
“Yeah, but it’s been fixed up.”
“Maybe you can do the fixing,” Miriam said. “A little cleanup and some paint might help. The important thing is having a place to put clothes.”
“Whatever.” Serena didn’t know anything about fixing up furniture, but she knew it would be wrong to argue with her aunt and uncle.
She left the porch and went out to the lawn, where Megan was smiling, waiting her turn to kick.
“What’s wrong?” Megan asked.
“I might have to work at a pretzel factory,” Serena said.
“Pretzels? Cool.” Megan nodded, then turned back to the game and faced Sam, who was pitching the ball. “Show me what you got, Sammy.”
Annoyed, Serena went back to the picnic table, picked up a cookie, and allowed herself a moment to feel sorry for herself as she polished it off. Living here was going to be harder than she’d thought.
* * *
That night, when everyone else went to bed, Serena remained in her shorts and top and sat downstairs with a book she’d gotten from the library. Although most everyone else was in bed, she wasn’t tired, and she wanted to wait up for Scout.
Besides, Essie was still out with Harlan, off on a buggy ride. Serena had wanted to come along, just to get away, but Megan had nudged her with a scornful look. “Can’t you see? This is the only way those two can be alone.”
Duh. How could Serena be so stupid? And usually she was so good at reading people. She was making bad choices right and left.
The rumble of the milk truck sent her out the front door. This time, she closed it quietly behind her, as Aunt Miriam had instructed. As she headed over to the milk barn, her formerly snow-white Vans sneakers crunching over gravel behind the growling truck, Serena hoped she hadn’t misread Scout, too. He always seemed happy to see her, and he had laughed along with her sisters last night when they’d joked about city girls stuck on a farm. She hoped his friendship was sincere.
“Hey, city girl,” he called as he came around the parked truck.
“Hi. How was your day?”
“Excellent, as always. How about you?”
How could he be so cheerful when he worked two jobs and took classes? “It was fun at first. But I think I’m in a little bit of trouble with my aunt and uncle.”
“You, in trouble? You’ve barely been here three days.”
“Right? I guess I’m just like a tornado that sweeps through quickly and leaves a path of destruction.”
“I find that hard to believe. What happened?”
As he took test samples of the milk, she explained how she’d tried to solve a big problem by finding the perfect dresser, but instead, she’d made things worse. Now she would have to work for months at some factory and still live out of her suitcase while she saved up money. “I know it might seem petty, but it makes me feel out of place here. Like I’ll never fit in.”
“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Scout said. “First, you belong here. God put you and your sisters here, and no one expects you to become Amish while you’re here. So you’re doing a great job being you. Hang on to that.”
“I never thought of it that way.” His words filled her with hope and a sense of belonging, especially because he seemed so sincere.
He seemed to consider the situation as he hooked up the hose and started the pump. “And I don’t think you should wait to buy that dresser. Get your hands on an old dresser and paint it up the way you like it. There are plenty of antique and used furniture shops around. My mom sells stuff out of our garage in her spare time. I bet she could give you something pretty cheap.”
“I’m not good at arts and crafts, and I don’t like old stuff.”
“You can make something old sparkle. Get out of your comfort zone and find a painting tutorial online. Sometimes, you need to go out on a limb to get the best view.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. Maybe a dingy dresser would be better than the pretzel factory.
The noise of the pump had them moving away from the truck.
“What a beautiful night,” he said with a broad smile. It had cooled down last night, and the day had been warm but pleasant for Pennsylvania summer. He started walking down the lane, toward the house. “Come over here. You’ve got to see this.”
Curious, Serena moved away from the lights of the truck and followed him out onto the bumpy lawn that stretched in front of the house.
“We got a clear night. Check it out,” he said, tilting his head back.
Serena lifted her gaze to the sky and gasped. “The stars!” They were everywhere! Even the brightest stars sat in fields of tiny stars that seemed to be so close to her. It was as if someone had tossed buckets of diamonds and sequins into the inky sky. “They’re so close! And beautiful. I’ve never seen a sky like this.”
“Funny, but those stars are always there. When it’s overcast, we think they’ve gone away, but no. And when you’re back in the city, the light pollution prevents you from seeing most of the stars.” He put his hands on his hips and seemed to breathe in the sky. “Yeah, it’s pretty amazing. Have you ever studied astronomy?”
“I’m not a science person.” To be honest, she didn’t like to study anything. “But if I lived out here, I’d probably know more. I mean, this sky is amazing.”
“Stargazing is kind of a hobby of mine. It fits in well when you drive a milk truck at night. I get to track the stars as they shift in the sky from season to season.”
“Do you use a telescope?”
“I’ve used the one at school—the community college. But most nights I just look up at the sky, and go on the Internet to get information from astronomy sites.”
She let her eyes scan the wide expanse, lolling in the joy of a thousand pin dots of light. One star seemed much brighter than the others. She pointed to it. “Do you know the name of that star? The really bright one?”
He moved closer to her, their shoulders touching, so that he could follow the line of her finger. “You’re pointing south. That’s Sirius, usually the brightest star in the sky. It shines so bright because it’s only 8.6 light years away.”
“Wow . . . I guess?”
“It disappears in the middle of the summer, but it’s back now. Some people call it the Dog Star because it’s part of the constellation Canis Major.”
“Okay, I’m impressed. But I think Sirius is a much better name than Dog Star.”
“Hey, I love my dog, Red.”
“Nothing against dogs. Does Red ever come on the truck with you?”
“Sometimes in the winter, when he doesn’t get enough outdoor time during the day. Between school and being on duty at the firehouse, I’m not home a lot.”
“I wish I could see him. We haven’t had a dog in the house since I was in junior high.” Back when she had a house, and a mom and a dad, and a happy life.
“Maybe you’ll get to meet him sometime.”
Serena smiled, still trying to absorb the sparkling sky. “Your Dog Star is actually really pretty. It seems to be kind of bluish or green.”
“You’re right. The Dog Star flickers in different colors. White, blue, green, purple, and orange. Even pink. Some people call it a rainbow star because of the colors.”
“That is so cool. You should teac
h astronomy. You make it so interesting.”
He shrugged. “Maybe someday. Right now, I’m still a student.” He looked back toward the milking barn. “And a milk truck driver. The tank’s probably empty. I’d better get back to work.”
She wished he could stay longer. Her conversations with Scout were easy and bright—an escape from family and farm life. But he had a job to do.
And there was always tomorrow night.
“Thanks for listening,” she said.
“Of course. I like talking with you. The pickup at the Lapp farm is now the highlight of my night.”
“Aw.” She smiled. He was a good friend, maybe her only friend at the moment. “See you tomorrow.”
“Same time, same place,” he said, a twinkle in his eye as he touched the bill of his cap.
Chapter Twelve
Essie paced the front porch, peering toward the barn, where Harlan was helping her father and brothers unload bales of hay. Staring at them wouldn’t make them work any faster. She knew a watched pot never boiled, or so people said. But she was eager for Harlan to be let go for the day so they could get into town before the bank closed.
They had business to attend to in town.
It had been Essie’s idea to open a joint account. Her parents had long done business at the local bank, American Heritage Trust, and Essie had thought that if she and Harlan had an account together, they would see progress toward their inevitable marriage. So far they hadn’t saved enough to build a home—that was a long way off—but Essie had deposited the money she’d saved in a sock from working two summers on the main road, selling vegetables from Mem’s garden. And each month, Harlan put in a portion of his paycheck, usually just two hundred dollars, but Essie knew that his mem needed the rest of his salary to keep food on the table and pay the rent.
When they’d started the account, they’d been saving for a small plot of land to build a house on. Dat had warned that this wouldn’t come cheaply, but Harlan was good with carpentry, and, when the time came, they knew men from their church would pitch in to build the house. Harlan and Essie’s dreams seemed on the verge of coming true since, recently, the bishop had offered to sell them a parcel of land near town. Heather Denning, the assistant manager at the bank, told them they would need five thousand dollars in their account in order to get the small loan from the bank. Since Bishop Aaron had made the offer, Harlan and Essie had been saving every penny.
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