and if it’s kept the place secure for the Clementi family these past few years, it’ll probably work for us,” Gabe added. “I say we include the fence renovation with the stable work.”
“I’m gut with that,” Jo agreed. “And I think we should open at nine and close at five. It’ll give us time to set up our shops beforehand, and we’ll still have the evening to take care of things at home before Sunday comes.”
“And we agree to have Glenn make the signs?” the bishop asked.
As everyone nodded, Jo felt a real sense of accomplishment. Their committee members were already working well together, and the church leaders were solidly behind this new venture. Glenn, Gabe, Martha Maude, and Molly were filling out rental agreements for their stalls, so Jo reached for a blank form, too.
When she realized how quiet Regina had been—and noticed some papers sticking out of her folder—Jo gently elbowed her redheaded friend. “Have you spoken with your artist friend, Regina?” she asked as she looked around the table. “Has anyone thought of other potential shopkeepers we should invite?”
Regina opened the plain brown folder. “He—he sent along a few samples, and he says it’s okay if you don’t think his paintings will fit in, what with the rest of the shops carrying Amish products—”
“Ooh, look at this little squirrel with his cheeks full of food!” Marietta interrupted gleefully. She reached for the painting on top of the pile. “He looks so real, you can just feel how silky his fur is!”
“I like this picture of the old broken-down barn in the field of wildflowers,” Martha Maude put in, leaning forward for a closer look. “The warmth of that sunny spring day comes right off the page.”
Within moments every person at the table had snatched up a painting. Jo was immediately attracted to a pair of cardinals in a snow-frosted cedar tree. “What kind of paintings are these?” she asked. “The details are so distinct, yet some of the colors blur together.”
“These are watercolors,” Regina explained. “None of them are framed, so he wasn’t sure folks would be as inclined to buy them—”
“Frames are a matter of personal taste,” Glenn put in. “And his pictures might be easier to display without frames on them.”
“And you could offer frames in your shop, Glenn,” Gabe pointed out quickly.
Regina was nodding, yet she seemed doubtful. “Is it all right if he’s English, then? Do you think the preachers will object—especially if all the shop spaces fill up and we have to turn away Plain shopkeepers?”
Bishop Jeremiah considered this question as he looked over everyone’s shoulders to study each painting in turn. “Your friend paints nature scenes—renderings of God’s creation,” he summarized softly. “We still have several spaces open, so I’d like to give him a chance. I suspect customers will have the same immediate reaction to his paintings that we’ve had.”
“Me too,” Jo agreed. “Why not take a rental form, Regina? If he needs time to decide, that’s all right. That said, we need to figure out a date when we’ll be open for business. Any idea how much time the renovation might take?”
Bishop Jeremiah chuckled. “If we set a date, Pete—and whoever else helps—will have a reason to get moving on the work.” He went to the wall calendar and flipped its pages. “June first is a Saturday. If the congregation votes yes on Sunday, May fifth, can we be ready in about a month?”
“We should make the most of the summertime, when we’ll have more daylight hours,” Gabe replied. “If we wait too long to open, we might lose our momentum—”
“And it’ll mean Pete has to apply himself right off the bat,” the bishop remarked as he glanced out the front window. He smiled at Jo. “As for where he’ll live, would you and your mamm consider renting him your dawdi haus? I know you have tourist traffic in the summertime—”
“No! Mamm will fry my hide if I agree to that,” Jo blurted.
The kitchen got quiet, as though folks were startled by the tone of her immediate response.
Bishop Jeremiah nodded. “I didn’t want your mamm to think I’d passed her over with my offer of paying Pete’s rent through the summer,” he said. “But I can understand why she wouldn’t think of him as the ideal tenant.”
Marietta and Molly were looking at each other, communicating without the need for words in that special way twins had.
“Would it be proper for Pete to stay in one of our dawdi hauses?” Marietta asked.
“Mamm had a second one built to allow for the renters we get during the mud sales and auctions,” Molly reminded everyone, “but sometimes—”
“It would be nice if one of them was bringing in a steady income this summer,” Marietta finished. “As long as Pete understands that we only provide breakfast—”
“And we won’t be cleaning his room every day, like in a motel,” Molly put in firmly, “but we’ll change his sheets once a week.”
“—I’d be all right with him staying at our place,” Marietta continued. “He’ll be out working, after all. It’s not as though he’ll be underfoot while we’re busy in our noodle shed each day.”
The bishop nodded. “I’m fine with everything you’ve said, ladies, and I appreciate your willingness to help me out. We’ll settle up before you leave, all right?”
The twins nodded together, and Jo chuckled as she got back to filling out her rental agreement form. The Helfings’ conversations reminded her of playing a game of leapfrog, and their innate understanding of each other’s ideas amazed her.
Martha Maude signed her form with a flourish and put it in the center of the table. “What if I post notices on the bulletin boards of Plain stores, asking for more shopkeepers and letting folks know about our new marketplace?” she offered. “I’d wait until the vote at church is official, of course, but meanwhile I could be writing out the note cards.”
“I think we should have the Bylers print out some posters about our opening, too,” Gabe put in. “We want our advertising to look professional, so English shoppers take us seriously. Maybe you could put those around in May, when we’re sure the stable will be ready on time.”
Folks were nodding, finishing their forms—and taking a last look at the delightful paintings Regina was gathering up.
“We’ve covered a lot of ground, even if Pete apparently couldn’t join us today,” Bishop Jeremiah said. “Shall we meet next Wednesday, same time, to check our progress before I conduct a vote the following Sunday? I predict we’ll get a lot of enthusiastic response when folks around Morning Star see what we’ve cooked up for this property.”
Everyone agreed as they rose from their chairs. The aromas of chicken and cheese reminded Jo to take Margaret’s casserole from the oven. “Here’s your dinner, Bishop,” she said as she set the steaming glass pan on a trivet. “Be sure to thank your mamm again for tolerating us as we talked everything through.”
“Denki to all of you for your ideas and your enthusiasm,” Bishop Jeremiah called out to everyone. “We’re off to a fine start.”
Jo
