noting how intently Jo was focused on the bishop—probably concerned about having to convince the local men that her plan had merit. The idea Jo had blurted on the spur of the moment during their walk last Sunday had become a full-blown business possibility in a very short time, mostly because Bishop Jeremiah seemed sold on it.
When Lydianne, Molly, and Marietta turned to look at Regina and Jo, their faces were lit with hopeful excitement—as though Jo’s idea suddenly felt more appealing because it had a chance to succeed.
“One of the first names that came to my mind as a potential renter was yours, Martin,” Bishop Jeremiah replied. “You and your employees produce some of the finest furniture I’ve ever seen, yet your showroom’s too small to do it justice. What would it hurt to display some pieces where new customers could run their fingers over your glossy tabletops and picture one of your beautiful bedroom sets in their homes?”
Regina’s eyes widened at the bishop’s praise. Customers had no way of knowing that she and Lydianne did most of the staining and finishing at the Flauds’ factory, yet she and her friend took pride in giving each piece all the time and attention it deserved before it left the workroom.
“And what about you, Glenn?” Preacher Clarence asked. “The wooden toys and rocking chairs you handcraft would be a big hit at a Saturday marketplace. I see these shops as something akin to a flea market, except the items would all be new, top-notch Amish products instead of antiques or estate sale stuff that vendors have hauled from one place to another.”
Jo chuckled under her breath. “Who knew your uncle would ever get so excited about shopping?” she whispered.
“I had no idea any of these men would support your plan,” Regina murmured. “The bishop’s really enthusiastic about this!”
“He’s being smart about it, too, keeping my name out of it,” Jo remarked softly.
Meanwhile, Glenn Detweiler had stood up to survey the crowd. “All right, I’m in!” he exclaimed. “I’ve sold several things through the consignment shop in Willow Ridge, but I’d much rather attract shoppers to Morning Star! Who’ll join me?”
Regina and Jo sucked in their breath, and the Helfing twins turned to look at them. “Can you believe this?” Molly whispered. “Your idea for saving the stable is taking off like a shot!”
Without warning, Marietta rose to her feet. “We Helfings will rent a booth to sell our noodles,” she declared.
From a couple benches in front of them, Martha Maude Hartzler—Deacon Saul’s mother—stood up, too. “This sounds like a fine opportunity to get some of my quilts out of the closet and sell them—”
“Amen to that,” Saul put in with a roll of his eyes.
“—and I’d be delighted if any of you other quilting ladies would join me,” she continued.
“What a great idea!” her daughter-in-law, Anne, chimed in. “I’m already feeling inspired to make some new quilts to sell!”
As three other women waved their hands above their heads, Regina got caught up in the energy that filled the room. Folks were whispering excitedly, looking around to see if anyone else might volunteer, while a dangerously daring thought came to her mind.
Don’t even think about it! Don’t you dare say a word! Regina’s inner voice warned.
Beside her, Jo stood up. “You know, Mamm and I could sell a lot more baked goods and produce at a stall in this marketplace than we do at our roadside stand,” she stated as she focused on Bishop Jeremiah. “Maybe we could even sell refreshments to the shoppers! I’d be willing to organize and manage this endeavor—perhaps instead of paying rent on a shop?”
“And I’ll keep the books!” Lydianne put in as she, too, rose from her seat. “And if you Flauds decide to rent a space, I could help you oversee it.”
“Wait just a minute, Josephine!” From the second row, Drusilla Fussner stood up to face her daughter. “I’m busy enough with our baking and gardening—and redding up the dawdi haus for tourist rentals—without you piling more work on me. This sounds like some crazy half-baked scheme that blew in out of nowhere, and I want no part of it!”
Jo clasped her hands in front of her. “I understand your concerns, Mamm, and I’ll assume the additional work it’ll take to maintain a stall at the new marketplace,” she said calmly. “I see this as a way to increase our income while we also support a new school building—by donating a percentage of everyone’s sales,” she added for clarification. “It was never my intention to force you into this. We’ll discuss it more when we get home.”
“Jah, you bet we will!” Drusilla clucked.
As Jo’s mamm sat down, Regina caught a conspiratorial sparkle in the bishop’s eyes.
“I think the new marketplace will be in gut hands if Jo and Lydianne manage it,” he said as he looked out over the congregation. “Does this make you feel better about acquiring the property, Martin? As your bishop, I intend to keep an eye on how things are done. I’m greatly encouraged by the enthusiasm folks are showing—”
“Put Flaud Furniture down for a double-sized stall, maybe in a corner so we’ve got more room,” Gabe called out. “I’m all for trying something new—and meanwhile we’ll be funding the schoolhouse. Seems the least we can do, as one of the largest family businesses in Morning Star.”
Regina counted on her fingers. Five stalls had already been spoken for.
If Martha Maude can sell the quilts that’re stacking up in her closet, why can’t you empty out your attic the same way?
Regina’s cheeks went so hot, she thought her freckles might pop off. She hoped Jo wouldn’t notice how antsy she was getting as these forbidden thoughts raced through her mind.
This is a bad idea! How can you possibly hope to pull this off ? Imagine the consequences if anyone finds out—
Even as the warning voice in her head was wailing like a fire siren, Regina stood up to speak before she lost her nerve. “I’d be willing to help Lydianne staff the Flauds’ stall, and I’ll help Jo with the organizational stuff, too,” she began in a halting voice. “And I have a—a friend who’s looking for a place to display some of his pieces. So that’s already six stalls we’ve accounted for.”
“That’s all well and gut,” Martin objected, “but why are we rushing into such a major undertaking before we’ve thought this through? Why don’t we call another meeting after church in a couple of weeks, and see some signed agreements from folks who’ll commit to renting stalls? And why don’t we make sure Pete’s willing to do the carpentry work—or get other men to say they’ll rebuild that stable? And why don’t we see some concrete plans from our volunteer managers concerning rental contracts and how they’ll advertise this marketplace?”
Bishop Jeremiah smiled as though Martin had played into his plans. “Excellent ideas,” he said. “How about if all the interested parties meet with me after we’ve eaten our lunch, and we’ll set a time to discuss the nuts and bolts of making this marketplace happen? We’ll report back to the congregation in two weeks.”
“I like that idea, Martin,” Deacon Saul chimed in. “You and I know that a business needs a plan if it’s to succeed.”
Regina
