The Amish Baker's Rival

by Marie E. Bast

  Cyrus squared his shoulders. “Your daed, my bruder, was helping Daed shingle the barn roof. Jeremiah went into town for more shingles and was gone too long. Daed fell off the roof and lay on the ground a long time before anyone found him. It’s Jeremiah’s fault Daed walks with a cane. It would be better if you didn’t hang around too much and get the old man’s hopes up. You aren’t part of our community. Why are you here?”

  “Because I want to help my grandparents and to get to know them.”

  “You have a store to take care of, and farming is a full-time job.”

  “He’s an old man, and he needs all the help he can get, even if it’s just temporary. Instead of talking, let’s go to the field and give him a hand.”

  Cyrus nodded and motioned for Noah to climb onto the hayrack. When they reached the field where his grandpa was baling, his uncle showed Noah how to grab the bales and stack them.

  As the afternoon wore on, Noah stacked hundred-pound bales one after the other until blisters formed on his palms even with gloves. Dust filled the air and clung to his sweaty face and clothing. He coughed and swiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve.

  Cyrus pulled the bandana from his neck and handed it to Noah. Noah wrapped it over his nose and mouth and tied it behind his head. The chaff irritated his neck, and worked its way down inside his shirt. He gritted his teeth but kept on stacking until they finished the baling.

  When they reached the barnyard, Noah jumped off the hayrack. His feet were tired and wobbled.

  Grandpa smiled and slapped him on the back. “After we eat, you better go home and take care of those hands. Danki for the help.”

  Noah nodded. He could see by the tears shining in his grandpa’s eyes that he appreciated the help a whole lot more than he expressed.

  After dinner, Noah helped Emily in the car. “Did you enjoy meeting your cousins?”

  “Yes, we had a great time. They showed me how to knit.” For the next three miles to town, Emily told him all about her cousins and what she’d learned.

  Noah parked behind his store and slowly stepped out. After sitting for a while, his body was so stiff he could hardly move. He was tired, but his heart was full.

  * * *

  Tuesday morning, Mary headed to Amanda’s haus in Kalona. The front door opened, and Amanda hurried to the buggy. She stepped in and slid onto the seat.

  “Danki for stopping by yesterday and asking me to come and help. Mamm finished canning, and I was getting bored. Saturday, I helped my friend at the newspaper get out some flyers. So spill, Mary, how is it working with Noah?”

  “It’s been a week since Sweet Delights burned, and so far, it’s working. He goes out to his grandpa’s farm sometimes, and he helps bake at the other store so we’re not in the kitchen at the same time. But today, I want to practice my contest entry and thought you could make a dozen loaves of bread and six dozen rolls for our regular customers while I do that. I don’t want to lose them to Noah.”

  “I’m glad to help.”

  Mary parked the buggy, unhitched King, then gave Amanda the tour of the kitchen layout. Having her friend by her side once again made her decision to bake at Noah’s store seem normal. “I’ll show you Sweet Delight’s corner of the store. I’m so grateful he gave me the space.”

  She showed Amanda her pantry and settled her at her station in the kitchen.

  Mary scooted to the pantry for her ingredients, mixed the practice dough, and set the rolls to rise.

  Jean Dwyer flew through the swinging door like an unruly child. “Hello everyone I was almost late.”

  “And, Amanda, this is Jean Dwyer, Noah’s assistant. Jean, this is Amanda Stutzman. She’s going to be helping me with the baking while I spend time practicing my recipes for the contest.”

  “Welcome, Amanda,” Jean responded with a smile. “I bake a few things here for Noah and watch the store.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jean.”

  Later in the morning, Noah bumped the kitchen door open, carrying in a box of baked goods, but stopped when he saw Amanda. “Good morning, ladies. Smells like you two have been busy.”

  “We wanted to have most of our baking done before you and Jean get busy,” Mary motioned to her full bakery rack.

  “What is that apple dessert you’re making? It looks good. Can I have a sample?” he said, teasingly.

  “Not from this one. It’s my practice for the contest.”

  He walked to the counter, leaned over and took a long sniff. “Your pie smells like it might be hard to beat.” His tone was serious. “Your cupcakes look good, too. Can I have one of those?”

  She nodded. “Be my guest.”

  He took a bite. “They’re good.” He let a smirk play on his lips. “But mine are better.”

  Amanda laughed. “Mary’s chocolate cupcakes are delicious.”

  He countered, “Try one of mine. Let’s go out to the bakery. You can each have one.”

  Mary followed Noah and Amanda to the store’s bakery section. The three of them weaved their way around Mrs. Wallin browsing the cakes.

  Amanda selected a chocolate cupcake, pulled the paper back and took a bite. “Mmm.” She held it out to Mary. “This is really gut.”

  Mary took a bite. “I don’t know. I think mine are better.” A wry smile pulled at her mouth.

  Mrs. Wallin moved closer. “Why don’t you have a contest on Saturday? You can both bake those mini cupcakes and let the customers do a blind taste test.”

  Noah whistled. “Oh, I like that idea. That will bring customers into the store.” He raised a brow. “What do you think, Mary?”

  She hadn’t expected this. It was sort of a pre-contest test to see what others think. “Amanda, could you have your friend put a write-up in the newspaper? Maybe say from opening until closing on Saturday, you’re invited to Miller’s Farm-fresh Grocery, Delicatessen and Bakery for a free mini cupcake taste-testing between Miller’s bakery and the Amish Sweet Delight’s bakery and voting for the best one.”

  “If Noah agrees to it,” Amanda said, “I’ll write it up and take it over to the newspaper right now.”

  Mary stammered, “I think we should also make the same kind of cupcake—chocolate, vanilla or whatever we decide.”

  Noah rubbed his hand across his chin. “Agreed. How about strawberry?”

  “I’ll agree to that.” Mary tried to hide the smile pulling at her mouth. Strawberry cupcakes were one of her specialties.

  * * *

  Saturday just before 7:00 a.m., Mary set the last of her cupcakes on a bakery cart. Noah rolled both his cart and hers, each loaded with strawberry cupcakes, to the front of the store. One cart labeled A, the other B.

  Mary followed him to the front and set paper and pencils next to a locked drum with a slit in the top. She opened a package of napkins and laid them on the counter next to the carts.

  After Noah unlocked the front doors and headed off to stock the fresh lettuce, Mary watched the supply of cupcakes closely as she worked around the Sweet Delights area.

  She swept the floor often to clean up the littered cupcake papers and crumbs. There was laughing and whispering, but Mary kept far enough away so she wouldn’t overhear the customers’ discussions.

  She grabbed an empty tray from the cart and stopped by checkout where Jean was working. “There’s a good turnout for voting.”

  Jean smiled. “Yes, did you see the write-up in the newspaper about the contest?” She pulled it from below the counter and handed it to Mary, already open to the article.

  Mary scanned the headline and gasped.

  Cupcake Bake-off Between Dueling Bakeries

  Setting the baking pan on the counter, she snapped the newspaper closed and hustled across the store to the produce section where Noah was restocking. She shook the paper. “Did you see the article about our little contest?”


  He paused and faced her. “No, I’ve been too busy.”

  “The newspaper is calling it dueling bakeries.”

  He shrugged. “That’s sort of what it is, don’t you think?”

  She huffed, then trotted back across the store and handed the newspaper back to Jean. She grabbed the empty pan, took it to the kitchen, and brought another tray to the front. It seemed the whole town had turned out for their little contest.

  In the late afternoon, Emily dashed across the bakery and hugged Mary.

  Mary squeezed her tightly. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in days.”

  “I have a girlfriend, her name is Kate. We’re in third grade together, and I go over to her house to play.”

  “That’s gut. How do you like your classes?”

  “They’re great.” Emily eyed the contest sign then turned toward the cupcakes. “Can I have a cupcake and vote?”

  “Of course.”

  Emily ate cupcake A first, then B. “Mmm. They’re both good.” She took a slip of paper and a pencil, voted and stuffed it in the drum. She turned back to Mary. “Can I help you count the votes when it’s all over?”

  “Sorry, sweetie. Milton Accounting is going to count the votes, and they’ll put the results in the morning’s newspaper.”

  The store’s door opened, and a local news team filed into the bakery with a camera and microphone.

  Emily squealed, “Are we going to be on TV?”

  Mary froze as her heart dropped to her stomach. “I don’t know why they’re here.”

  The reporter with the Channel 4 logo on his blue blazer weaved his way around the lines of people testing cupcakes and voting. He stepped forward. “Are you Mary Brenneman?”

  She pulled her frame up to full stature. “Can I help you?”

  “You’re the owner of Sweet Delights bakery?”

  Mary clenched her moist palms. “Jah, what’s this all about?” Her gaze bounced from the reporter to the cameraperson filming the people in line.

  “I’m Carl Thompson, Channel 4 News. Someone called in on the tip line. We also saw the article about the dueling bakeries and contest to determine the best cupcake.”

  Annoyance inched its way up Mary’s back. If she lost the contest, they would report it in the newspaper and on Channel 4 News for everyone to hear and gossip about. She hadn’t thought about that when she agreed to this contest. She took a step back.

  Noah’s heavy footfalls approached from the kitchen. “What’s going on here?”

  Mary swung around. “Someone called Channel 4 and told them we were dueling bakeries.”

  “Is that what they said?”

  “Someone called them on the tip line.”

  Carl butted in, “We also heard that you’ve both entered the Kalona Fall Apple Festival baking contest. They said you decided to have a cupcake contest first to raise the stakes between the two of you and put pressure on the loser.”

  Mary gasped. “I can’t believe you would stoop so low to call a news channel, Noah.”

  “Roll camera,” Carl told his videographer.

  “Mary, I didn’t do that.” Noah turned to the reporter. “Who called you?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s an anonymous tip line. We don’t know who called in. Apparently, everyone in this town knows what’s going on between you two. We also heard you offered her a corner of your store after her bakery burned down. That’s generous of you, Mr. Miller, one business owner helping another. Is that just until her bakery reopens?”

  Mary plopped her hands on her hips as heat rushed to her cheeks.

  “Mary, I’m not the one who called,” Noah insisted. “Apparently, someone in town has a sense of humor.”

  “Or you thought it would make for great publicity when you won,” she snarled.

  Mayor Conrad pushed his way through the gathering crowd. “I called Channel 4. I thought this would make great publicity for our fall festival.”

  Mary blew out a heavy sigh and glanced at the clock. “Just a reminder, everyone,” she raised her voice, “the doors close in two minutes.” She moved to the counter and began cleaning.

  Noah held the front door open while the last of the voters streamed out, along with the mayor who was talking to the news crew about the festival. The last person to leave was from Milton Accounting, taking the locked drum of votes for counting in a secure room.

  Noah locked the door and turned to Mary. “I’m sorry. This was probably a bad idea.”

  She stopped cleaning. “No, I apologize. I shouldn’t have jumped on you. The only thing that ran through my mind was how embarrassed I’ll be if I lose. I made a spectacle of myself, and now they have it on film. If the bishop hears about me being on TV, he’ll discipline me.”

  “Mary, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about that. I’ll contact the channel and tell them they can’t put your image on TV.” He darted back to the office.

  In a few minutes, Noah returned to the front of the store, plugged in a small TV and got it ready for watching the ten o’clock news. He glanced her way. “I can drive you home tonight and pick you up in the morning so you don’t have to drive King all the way home after dark.”

  “Danki, but I’m going to spend the night with Amanda and her folks.” Mary gathered her cleaning supplies and wiped down her Sweet Delights area while Noah went back to his office.

  At ten, Noah carried out two folding chairs and placed them in front of the TV. Mary sat on the edge of her seat, her back straight, praying. Dear Lord, please don’t let my image appear on the television for all to see.

  When the cupcake contest segment began, the news anchor brought out the representative from the accounting firm. They cut to a short clip showing the front of Noah’s store, the locked drum and the people waiting in lines to eat cupcakes and vote. But neither Mary nor Noah were shown.

  The accountant presented the envelope to the news anchor. A drum roll blasted through the TV speakers, and the anchor opened the envelope and gasped.

  “Well, viewers, it seems there is a tie, and the duel will continue until the Kalona Fall Apple Festival baking contest on September 27. Will the winner be Mary Brenneman from the Amish Sweet Delights bakery, Noah Miller from Miller’s Farm-fresh Grocery, Delicatessen and Bakery, or someone else entirely? May the best baker win.”

  One last film clip caught the reporter, Carl Thompson, eating a cupcake. Then they cut to the next segment.

  Noah flipped the TV off.

  “Danki, Noah.” Her throat tightened around a lump that tried to block her words. “For asking them not to put my image on TV.”

  She enjoyed the way he looked after her...almost like they were a couple, and he really cared. She could trust him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mary walked out the back door, shutting it tightly, as if that could stop the brewing of happiness deep inside from overflowing. She liked Noah, maybe too much. She was Amish, and he was Englisch. Where could the relationship go?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thursday dawned warm for a September morning. Mary arrived at Noah’s store, tried the door, then pulled out her key and unlocked it. She wondered where everyone was. Noah was usually here by now.

  She hung her bag and found a note from Noah stuck to the door.

  In the kitchen, she grabbed a bag of apples from the cooler and peeled enough for two desserts. Humming a song from the Ausbund, she prepared a dumpling pastry, set it in a pie pan, spiced the apples with cinnamon, ginger and a little nutmeg, then poured them in the dish. She covered the top with woven strips and set it in the oven.

  Sliding the new attic recipe in front of her, she prepared a pie shell, arranged the spiced apples in the pan, topped it with a crust and set it in the oven to bake. The secret to this pie was simmering the spices in apple juice and thickening the sauce before pouring it over the apple
s. Her contest entry would have to come from one of these two pies.

  Amanda pushed the back door open. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to coming to Noah’s fancy kitchen in the morning.”

  Mary smiled. “I know what you mean.”

  “No one else is in yet?” Amanda bumped the bowls as she took them from the cupboard.

  Mary grabbed the potholders, pulled her pies from the oven and set them on a rack to cool. “Jean will come in soon, but Noah left a note saying he went to Iowa City to bake. I think he wanted to practice his entry without me watching.”

  “That’s gut.” Amanda snorted as she scooted to the pantry “Then he can’t see our secrets either. Have you heard when or if your parents are going to rebuild Sweet Delights?” She mixed a batch of chocolate cupcakes and sugar cookies.

  “Nein, Daed has to wait on crops to see if he has enough money. But even if he does, the bakery will have only the basics.” Her voice dipped, “I still have to win the contest. My pies should be cool enough to eat. Let’s try them before Noah returns.”

  While Amanda poured two glasses of water and pulled out forks, Mary cut two slices from each pie. She handed Amanda her plate.

  Her friend took a bite of the dumpling pie first. “Mmm,” she hummed and raised an eyebrow. She sipped water and tried the other piece. “Oh, Mary—” she pointed to the pie with her fork “—this second one is wunderbaar. What do you think?”

  Mary tasted her revamped recipe of the dumpling pie with the cinnamon and nutmeg and caramel drizzle. The crust was delicious and flaky. It was going to be hard to beat. Her hand tightened around the fork. She glanced at Amanda then cut into the pie made from the attic recipe. She put it in her mouth and slowly chewed. “Bishop Ropp was right. I, too, would drive five miles for a piece of this pie. I’ve found my entry.”

  After finishing her pie, Mary cleaned the mess while Amanda carried her frosted cupcakes to the front of the bakery. When the sugar cookies Amanda had made were cool, Mary carted the tray to the front. She set it down and started to arrange the sweets in the display case.