The room fell silent. Unfortunately, the bishop’s best efforts to shepherd his nephew over the past few years hadn’t made Pete any more reliable.
“He’ll be at our meeting on Wednesday,” Bishop Jeremiah stated firmly. “We’ve set our opening date for June first, and Pete knows what has to be accomplished by then. He’ll also be moving into one of the Helfing sisters’ dawdi hauses, so we’ll be able to keep a closer eye on him.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t wear out his welcome with Molly and Marietta before he completes the renovation,” Deacon Saul remarked.
“Maybe he’ll hitch up with one of them,” Reuben blurted. When he burst out laughing, his belly strained against his shirt and black suspenders, and soon the others were chuckling at his unlikely idea as well.
After a bit more conversation, the men started for home, some of them in buggies and some of them walking to enjoy the pleasant April evening. Gabe strolled alongside his dat, once again immersed in his thoughts about how the Amish—their music and their conversations alike—never changed. Folks in the older generations were determined that anyone over the age of eighteen should be married and raising a family, and they never tired of matchmaking.
Gabe would never say it aloud, but he sometimes envied Pete Shetler the relative freedom of working at the pet food factory, living in his own apartment, and driving an old pickup. Remaining in rumspringa had some advantages that Gabe had given up when he’d joined the church, probably sooner than he should have.
“Maybe you should head over to the Helfing place and take a shine to one of the twins, before Pete does,” his father suggested. “Or there’s Jo Fussner, who’s a fine cook, or—well, gutness knows you’ve been working with Lydianne and the Miller gal for years, and nothing’s come of it.”
Gabe let out an exasperated sigh. “How many times have we had this conversation, Dat? And how many times have I said I’ll know the right girl when I see her?” he snapped. “End of conversation.”
Chapter Five
Bishop Jeremiah’s kitchen was filled with fresh energy as everyone took seats around the table on Wednesday afternoon. While the others helped themselves to cookies and coffee, Regina slipped her rental agreement form onto the stack in the center of the table, desperately hoping no one would quiz her about its details or the artist she’d named Hartley Fox. Despite her earlier misgivings, she was all in, committed to a space where she would display—and hopefully sell—her work. There was no backing out now.
As Martha Maude entered the kitchen with her daughter-in-law, Anne, along with two other women, the attention shifted to them. “Lenore will be going in on our quilt shop, and Rose will be selling her candles there, too,” Martha Maude said as she gestured for them to sit down. “With all that merchandise, we’ll need two slots in the corner opposite the Flauds’ shop so we’ll have plenty of display space—which means we’ll pay double rent, of course.”
Regina smiled as the two new participants sat down. Lenore Otto had moved to Morning Star from Cedar Creek, and she lived with her daughter, Leah, and her son-in-law, Jude Shetler, who was Bishop Jeremiah’s brother. She created quilts with bolder colors and patterns than many Amish women used, so Regina was pleased that she wanted to offer her unique work at The Marketplace.
“Hey there, Rose, have a seat,” she said as she pulled out the chair to her right. “I think your new candle business will be a great addition to our shops!”
Rose had moved to Morning Star with her little girl, Gracie, when she’d married Matthias Wagler. She was in the family way, due in the fall, and she glowed with health and happiness. “I was so excited when Martha Maude asked if I’d be interested,” she said. “The four of us can take turns running our shop—much more manageable for me, come time to welcome this wee one,” she added as she curved her arm around her modest bump.
“I’ve also brought the completed rental form from the father and son who own Wengerd Nurseries, over by Queen City,” Anne put in as she placed it on the growing stack. “We’ve known Nelson and Michael for years, and they’ve agreed to maintain the window boxes and any other plantings we may want around the building. Come summer, they also want to participate in produce auctions.”
“That’s great!” Jo exclaimed. “If lots of vegetables—and flowers—are displayed outside the building, they’ll draw in folks who’re passing by on the road.”
“Glad to hear it.” Bishop Jeremiah sat down at the head of the table, nodding at everyone. “The two preachers and Deacon Saul went with me yesterday to speak to the Clementi family and look at the stable. They feel confident that this project is on the right track, and that it’ll be a worthwhile investment for our church district.”
“Dat’s on board, too,” Gabe put in as he handed the bishop a copy of his sketches. “We’re donating several of these collapsible tables and chairs for the refreshment area—and any group events we might schedule—so I have a feeling that very few folks in the congregation will vote against our project. The fellows in our shop are talking about The Marketplace already, pleased that we can build the new schoolhouse on that property with the percentage we’ll collect on sales. They see it as a win-win situation.”
“And I’m calling it a win-win-win,” Bishop Jeremiah said. “We’ll have the shops, we’ll be supporting the new school, and I’ve convinced Pete to move to the Helfings’ dawdi haus, away from Higher Ground. He wants to keep his night job at the pet food factory, but he knows he’ll have to prioritize his time so the stable’s ready several days ahead of June first. This’ll be a big step forward in steering my nephew back onto the Amish path.”
Marietta looked less convinced. “Today’s the first of May, and we haven’t heard a word from Pete about moving in—”
“So do you really think he’s going to?” Molly finished.
The bishop sighed. “My nephew has always kept his own schedule. He’ll show up when—”
Outside, a big engine rumbled and then backfired loudly. Through the window, Regina saw a black pickup lurch to a halt in the driveway. A muscular blond fellow slid out of it—along with a golden retriever, which barked excitedly and ran around him in circles.
“He’s here,” Regina announced softly. “And he’s got a big—”
Boisterous barking filled the front room as the door flew open. “Riley, stop!” Pete called out. “You’ve got to behave yourself when—”
The rowdy dog had already planted his large paws on the kitchen table, however, right next to the cookie plate and Bishop Jeremiah. By the time Jo had snatched the goodies away from Riley, Pete was entering the kitchen.
“Sit down, boy!” he commanded. “Get away from that table right now, Riley!”
Jeremiah slipped his arm around the retriever. “Riley, sit,” he murmured.
Riley obeyed immediately. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he gazed adoringly at the bishop.
Pete brushed his shoulder-length blond hair back from his face as he looked around the table. He was wearing a snug black T-shirt with the logo of a rock band on it, along with faded jeans and lace-up work boots. Aromas of grease and cigarettes came in with him, as though he’d recently spent some time at the pool hall.
