Chapter Seven
On the following Saturday, Jo convinced her mamm to ride to the stable with her to see how its reconstruction was progressing—and to help with the snack and the lunch the churchwomen were serving the construction crew. When Jo first caught sight of the stable, she sucked in her breath. The rumble of generators and the zap-zap-zap of nail guns filled the air as she drove their wagon through the open gate. Riley bounded out to greet them, barking exuberantly.
“Look at all the men up there! They’ve removed the old shingles and they’re already putting on the new roof,” she said excitedly. “They must’ve gotten an early start.”
“Hush up! Stop that barking!” Mamm cried out, pointing at the golden retriever.
Riley’s face fell, but he sat down quietly and let them drive past him.
Jo’s mother gazed up at the men silhouetted against the morning’s bright sky. “Some of those men are awfully old to be climbing around like monkeys,” she remarked. “If somebody falls and gets hurt—”
“Let’s figure that Pete has assigned the elderly, unsteady fellows to jobs on the ground,” Jo said quickly. “See? Glenn’s dat and Martin’s older brothers are at the side of the stable, shoveling the torn-off shingles into that wagon. Everyone here’s excited about this project, Mamm, so let’s be excited with them, shall we?”
Her mother shook her head as she determined that Reuben Detweiler and the Flauds—all of them in their seventies and eighties—were indeed cleaning up the debris. Jo parked beside the other flatbed wagons, where women were setting out a midmorning snack.
“Fine,” Mamm muttered as she stepped down, “but I’ll never understand why the church wants to take on all the responsibility of running shops in this old place. What if you can’t get rid of the smell of horses and manure? Who’ll want to buy all those pastries you’re planning to bake, Josephine?”
Sighing inwardly, Jo focused on the smiles of the friends who’d already arrived. “Hey there, Anne! And Rose, it’s gut to see you this morning—and you too, Gracie!” she added as Rose’s blond daughter ran up to her.
“We baked brownies and sticky buns—and for lunch later, Mamma made a big ole pot of chili,” Gracie blurted out. “And I helped!”
“Of course you did, sweetheart,” Jo replied. “You’re the best helper ever—and we’re glad your mamm’s going to sell her candles in your mammi’s quilt shop, too.”
“She says I can help in the store—until I get to start at the new school!” Gracie, who would soon turn six, beamed like the sun. “It’s gonna be so much fun, Jo.”
“Jah, it is. I loved school,” Jo agreed as she took two pans of coffee cake from a box on the back of the wagon. She glanced at her mother, happy to see that she’d struck up a conversation with Martha Maude. After she cut the warm coffee cakes into large squares, she pulled the big cooler full of lemonade to the edge of the wagon and arranged some cups, plates, and forks near them.
Cora Miller, Preacher Clarence’s wife, rang a cowbell to get the workmen’s attention. “Come on down for coffee and treats,” she cried between blasts of their air drills.
As the men on the roof clambered down their long extension ladders, a few other fellows emerged from inside the stable. Glenn, Preacher Ammon, and Teacher Elam brushed cobwebs and sawdust from their hair as they approached. Jo noticed dark circles under Glenn’s eyes and wondered if his wife—or baby Levi—had kept him up most of the night.
“Here’s apple cinnamon and chocolate zucchini coffee cake,” she offered. “Rose brought sticky buns and brownies, and there’s plenty of coffee and lemonade. Looks like you fellows have made great progress this morning.”
“Shoo! Get away from this food!” Jo’s mother said, stomping her foot as Riley approached with a hopeful look on his face.
Glenn smiled as he lifted a large square of chocolate coffee cake onto a plate. “We hauled all the old hay out of the loft earlier this week, and we’ve swept out the entire interior,” he said as Ammon and Elam nodded. “I suggest you put your office and some storage room upstairs, so the main floor will have more space for shops.”
“Jah, the loft floor’s solid, and you’ll have a window or two up there,” Preacher Ammon remarked as he poured coffee. “Wouldn’t take much to put up a few walls and doors so you could close that area off.”
“It would keep you warmer in the winter, too,” Elam added. “And shoppers couldn’t wander into your office.”
Jo liked that idea. “I’ll ask Lydianne what she thinks when she comes for the lunch shift.”
Pete, Gabe, and the other men who’d been on the roof joined them, talking and laughing as they loaded their plates. Jo was pleased that so many men had come today, because they all worked well together—and because The Marketplace would be ready for its grand opening. When Reuben stepped up to the cooler with his cup in one hand and a big brownie in the other, Jo pressed the spigot lever for him.
“What’s Elva doing today?” she asked as he watched the liquid rising in his cup.
“Whatever she wants!” he replied without missing a beat. The men around them burst out laughing. It was a local joke that Reuben lost few opportunities to get out of the small dawdi haus at Glenn’s place, where he and his outspoken wife lived.
After Reuben gulped his lemonade, however, he sobered. “Truth be told, the wee one was fussy last night,” he said softly. “Elva’s looking after him and Billy Jay today while Dorcas gets some rest.”
“Dat and I will head home in another hour or so to help her out,” Glenn put in wearily, but then he brightened. “Before I leave, though, would you come inside and show me how you want things arranged? We can pace off the area for the shops and put down some markers so the rest of the crew knows what’s going on if I can’t be here all the time.”
“We’ll do that whenever you’re ready, Glenn!” When Jo saw her mother nearby, she slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Would you like to go in with us, Mamm? It’ll give you a better idea about—”
“It’ll give me a nose full of dust and dirt, and I’ll be sneezing the rest of the day,” Mamm objected. “I’m not setting foot in there until the shops are ready to open—and even then, Josephine, I’ll not be working in your bakery.”
“Jah, so you’ve told me,” Jo murmured patiently. “I’ve got ideas about who might help me—but meanwhile, Glenn, I’ll give you all the help I can this morning.”
About fifteen minutes later, the men were tossing their plates and cups in the trash, thanking the women for the snacks. When Jo started toward the stable with Glenn, Preacher Ammon, Elam, and Martha Maude joined them—and so did Anne, Rose, and little Gracie.
“It’ll be gut to get an idea of how much display space we’ll have,” Martha Maude remarked. “What with Lenore Otto joining us, we’ll have quilts from the three of us, as well as tables and shelves for your candles, Rose.”
“If we have room, we could put a quilting frame in the shop—or just outside it,” Anne suggested as they all approached the stable doors. “I think folks would enjoy watching us work when we have a few spare minutes.”
“What a great idea!” Jo agreed.
“And it’ll help us keep up with our quilting so we’ll have more pieces to sell,” Martha Maude pointed out. “Our closets might empty out faster than we anticipate!”
As they stepped into the large building, Jo stopped to look all around her. The men had cleared a lot of debris and old straw since she’d sketched her floor plan, and with only the stalls remaining in place, it was much easier to picture how The Marketplace would take shape. She felt deliriously excited, even though a lot of work was still ahead of them.
“Can we reuse these sturdy beams and partitions?” she asked, running her hand along the top of a stall. “If we could clean up this wood—”
“We’d save a lot of money, and it would preserve the look of an old-fashioned stable,” Glenn said with an enthusiastic nod. “If we follow your plan of having the shops in a U around three of the walls—mostly open, except for the stall dividers between them—and we put down some easy-to-clean flooring and paint the wood and the walls to freshen them up, that’s all we’d really need to do, ain’t so?”
“Let’s keep it simple,” Martha Maude agreed as she walked partway down the center aisle. “This stable’s a lot bigger inside than I’d imagined, so even the painting will cost us some cash. Will it look . . . underwhelming if we only have seven shops in here?”
Jo shrugged. “We have to start somewhere. I really like your idea about renting out the center space for parties—”
“Maybe, if store owners in town see how much room we have,” Rose put in eagerly, “they’ll rent space for some of their merchandise, too. Matthias might want to sell his leatherwork and saddles here.”
“And who knows?” said Martha Maude. “Saul could park a wagon or two, or a buggy, here. A lot of English folks use farm wagons like we build in the carriage factory, after all, but they seldom come in to see what we Amish have to offer.”
Gracie’s face lit up as she grabbed her mammi’s hand. “And Dawdi could give the kids rides in his special carriages!” she sang out. “And I could ride up on top while he was drivin’!”
Everyone chuckled at the little girl’s exuberance—but Jo could envision Gracie’s idea as a big attraction on special days. Ordinary Plain buggies, farm wagons, and courting buggies were the bread and butter of Hartzler Carriage Company, but Saul also built very ornamental, specialized vehicles for theme parks and businesses that offered horse-drawn carriage rides around historic areas of their towns.
“That would be great fun, Gracie!” Jo said as the little girl hopped and whirled in circles around them. “This stable has given us a lot of inspiration—and denki, Glenn, for taking charge of our interior,” she added. “It’s going to be wonderful!”
“See where those red rags are tied?” he asked, gesturing toward the far side of the building. “I’ve marked off a space that’s twenty by twenty. That’ll be about right for my own shop—but how about for your kitchen area, Jo? And your quilt shop, Martha Maude?”
They crossed the concrete floor to the area Glenn had measured out. Jo tried to imagine ovens, a sink, and a refrigerator in place, as well as storage for her equipment and glass display cases for her baked goods. “I think this’ll work for me if I make efficient use of the space,” she said.
“And if we double this area in the corner, we’ll have plenty of room to hang quilts,” Martha Maude replied.
“If you need more display space for your goodies, Jo, you could put them on rolling shelves that you wheel out in front of your bakery,” Rose suggested.
Jo nodded, trying not to become overwhelmed by the planning she had to do—and the equipment she’d need to purchase—in the next few weeks. “We all have a lot of ideas spinning in our heads now, ain’t so?”
The zap-zap-zap of nail guns reverberated inside the stable as the men on the roof resumed their work, so the women took that as their cue to return to the wagons. Jo heard Riley barking again. As she followed the dog’s progress toward the front gate, a couple of men she didn’t recognize were approaching in a buggy.
“Do we need to ask Pete to keep his dog at home?” she asked her companions.
When the long-legged passenger of the buggy hopped down to play with Riley, however, Jo felt relieved that he hadn’t been put off by the dog’s ruckus. He was a nice-looking young man, slender yet muscular—and when the driver stepped down from the buggy, it was immediately apparent that they were father and son.
“Ah, it’s the Wengerds!” Martha Maude said as she hurried in their direction. “Nelson and Michael, welcome! It’s gut you could come today!”
“These guys own the nursery over near Queen City,” Jo explained to Rose. They followed Martha Maude, who was gesturing toward the wagons where the refreshments had been laid out.
“We still have some goodies left—and lunch will arrive around noon,” Martha Maude was saying. “Please help yourselves and we’ll show you around. This is Rose Wagler—and Jo Fussner, who’s managing The Marketplace. Jo, Nelson and Michael Wengerd have come to look things over.”
Jo nodded at the two men, immediately liking their cordial smiles. “And this is my mother, Drusilla Fussner, who baked some of that coffee cake you see.”
Mamm had been following the conversation with her usual scrutiny. She nodded at the Wengerds. “I’m surprised you fellows left your nursery on this fine Saturday. I’d think your store would be very busy now that spring’s set in.”
“You’ve got that right, Drusilla,” Nelson said. When he smiled, dimples and laugh lines bracketed his mouth. “We wanted to see the stable today while it’s open, so we left our assistants in charge.”
“Ah. Your wife and daughters, no doubt,” Mamm remarked.
Jo sighed. Would the Wengerds think her mother was impossibly nosy?
The men’s faces fell a bit, however. “No, my Verna went to be with her Lord a couple of years ago,” Nelson replied softly. “My daughter, Salome, married and moved to Ohio to live with her husband’s family. We have a couple of young folks from our church who work for us through the busiest months.”
“Well, we’re glad you’ve come today,” Jo put in quickly, “and we’re really glad you’ll have flowers and vegetables to sell with us.”
“Can’t you picture the stable with its new black roof and black shutters, along with a fresh coat of rustic red paint—and window boxes of your colorful flowers?” Martha Maude asked as she gestured toward the building. “We think it’ll be a big draw for folks passing by on the highway.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Nelson said. “We plan to bring hanging baskets, as well—”
“And we’ll plant some flower beds around the building as soon as we know what the other plans for the grounds are,” Michael added. “It’s great that there’s so much room for parking, and that we’re outside of town where there won’t be a lot of traffic noise. Morning Star’s a bigger, busier city than I expected!”
Jo nodded. “It’s basically an English town where we Amish and some Mennonites have found some affordable farmland to settle on,” she said.
Nelson was studying the property immediately around the stable. “If possible, I’d like to position our flowers on the side of the building facing the road, and have space inside for selling gardening supplies and seeds,” he said, pointing toward the end of the building. “Do you suppose I can use that door on the end? And have our shop space right inside there?”
“I’ll write you into the floor plan,” Jo said happily. “Nobody’s spoken for space on that end yet.”
Nelson’s face lit up, and he looked years younger, pleased that his requests were already being granted. “What shall we plant in those window boxes to make them pop, Drusilla? What are your favorite summer flowers?”
Mamm looked stunned. Jo, too, was surprised at Nelson’s question—and secretly pleased that he’d managed to stump her mother.
“Well, you can’t go wrong with geraniums,” Mamm replied after a moment.
The Wengerds were both nodding. “The boxes will be in full sunlight,” Michael pointed out, “so how about some white geraniums, purple petunias, and bright green sweet potato and vinca vines to hang down a bit—and big yellow and orange marigolds?”
Mamm blinked. “Sounds awfully flashy for a Plain—”
“A rainbow!” Jo blurted out. She was delighted that the nurserymen wanted to put such bright colors in their boxes, because her mother would’ve stopped with the geraniums.
“And if we build a pergola near the building for the hanging baskets, that’ll give us more display space so customers can select what they’d like—and more color to attract folks from the road,” Michael suggested.
Jo wasn’t sure what a pergola was, but she really liked the way these men were thinking. “We’ll have some wood you can use for that pergola after we dismantle some of the stalls inside the stable,” she said. “Let’s go inside so you can meet Glenn. He’s remodeling the interior for us, so he—or our other foreman, Pete Shetler—can build whatever structures you’d like, once they’ve finished remodeling the stable.”
As the rest of the morning passed, Jo was gratified by the sense of teamwork and excitement everyone shared. The Wengerds met people easily and talked with Glenn and the other men over Rose’s chili and the creamy chicken and noodles the Helfing twins brought for the men’s lunch. Delores Flaud and her girls stopped by with large bowls of fruit salad and coleslaw. Lenore Otto provided pies and a fresh urn of hot coffee, while Lydianne brought a big chocolate cake. Regina furnished wet wipes and trash bags, and she cleaned up after everyone ate.
By the time Pete and his men shut down their air compressors that afternoon, the stable’s roof was covered with fresh black shingles. Glenn and his crew had removed the stall posts and gates, so they were ready to construct the basic skeleton of the shop area. Folks went home with a real sense of accomplishment.
“Let’s stop at the bulk store for a few things,” Mamm said as she took her place on the wagon seat beside Jo. “I’ve spent my whole day here, so I have no idea what we’ll have for supper—or what to cook for tomorrow’s meals, either.”
Jo suppressed a sigh as she urged the horse forward. Her mother complained anytime her routine was interrupted, so her remark about cooking was probably the first of many to come. And Mamm seemed to forget that she wasn’t the only capable cook in the family.
“Tell you what,” Jo said as they turned onto the county highway. “I’ll spring for supper in town, and we’ll order enough extra food to take home for tomorrow. I’m celebrating how far we moved toward making a dream come true today!”
Mamm’s glance was doubtful. “I’m glad this marketplace thing is your project and not mine! It could turn into a nightmare mighty fast if—”
“But what if The Marketplace becomes the best new thing Morning Star has seen in a long time?” Jo countered quickly. “Do you think Martha Maude and Glenn—and the Wengerds—would invest their time and effort if they didn’t believe we’d succeed?”
Mamm looked off into the distance, temporarily silenced. When they’d parked at the Mennonite bulk store, they went inside and Mamm grabbed a grocery cart.
“Go ahead and start your shopping,” Jo said. “I want to check the bulletin board.”
After her mother headed down the produce aisle, Jo went to the corkboard that was covered with notices about upcoming events and items that were for sale. She immediately spotted a colorful sheet of paper with a photo of the stable on it. COMING SOON—THE MARKETPLACE! AMISH SHOPS AND LOCAL SPECIALTIES!
The stable photo had been enhanced with flower boxes and lush green grass—computer magic that made Jo even more enthusiastic about how wonderful Morning Star’s new shopping area would be. Martha Maude had obviously instructed the printer to drum up excitement with the poster, and her heart was beating faster just from looking at it.
Another notice caught her eye, too. CAFÉ GOING OUT OF BUSINESS. MUST SELL ALL EQUIPMENT. The list included ovens, sinks, dishwashers—all the items Jo needed for her new bakery to be in compliance with the health department. The address was in Higher Ground, just a few miles down the road, so she dug a scrap of paper from her purse and jotted down the phone number.
Jo had no idea how she would pay for such equipment—and maybe it would be too large for her shop area—yet she sensed that God’s hand had led her to the bulk store to find the sale notice. He had a way of providing what His children needed when they called on Him.
In her mind, Jo heard Bishop Jeremiah’s voice. If you don’t ask, you probably won’t receive. If you don’t knock, who will know to open the door for you?
“You’ve got it right, Bishop,” she murmured as she caught up to her mother. “It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to.”