Mary sorted through Saturday’s mail and opened the box of new tourist brochures that had just arrived and glanced through the top one. She browsed the column under restaurants and bakeries. Lazy Susan’s headed the list, followed by Miller’s Farm-fresh Grocery, Delicatessen and Bakery, then Sweet Delights.
She stared at the paper until the words began to blur. She threw the brochure back in the box and snapped the lid closed.
Amanda looked up from filling the display case. “Something wrong?”
“Noah’s shop is listed.”
“Oh! Well, at least yours is listed first, jah?”
“Nein, they didn’t just add it at the end, they put the shops in alphabetical order. His is listed before Sweet Delights because they forgot the Amish in front.”
She lifted the box cover, picked up a brochure and handed it to Amanda. Her friend glanced over it, groaned and handed it back. Mary set the box in the cupboard, pulled the remaining old brochures out and set a stack on the edge of the counter.
“So you are going to use up the old ones first?”
“Please don’t judge me.” Uneasiness stalked up Mary’s back.
“I’m not judging you. I know your situation. That feeling you have is coming from you judging yourself. You paid for the old brochures and have a right to use them.”
The doorbell jingled, and old Bishop Ropp entered, tapping a cane along the tile flooring. “Gut Morgen.”
Mary hurried around the counter to his side. “Bishop, can I help you? What happened?”
“I can manage. A cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie, please. And how about a sample of your contest entry dessert? I’ll sit, rest and enjoy the pie...if someone gets it for me.”
“Jah, jah. I’ll hurry, but what happened? Are you feeling all right?”
“Old age is what happened. I think I can do anything I did when I was young, but my body lets my mind know who is really in charge. I twisted my knee trying to climb on my sohn Albert’s hayrack. So like the old horses, I’m put out to pasture. If I keep coming in here for pie, I’ll look like an old horse, too.”
Mary hurried to the kitchen, returned and set two plates in front of the bishop. “Here is your pie. And this other one on your right—” she slid the plate closer “—is my contest entry. I’d like you to try it and tell me what you think?”
He took a bite of the pie in front of him, chewed and glanced toward the ceiling. He took a bite of the second one. “Both gut but not as wunderbaar as Sarah’s papa’s pie. I thought you were going to try to find his recipe?”
“Sarah found his old recipe book, but it wasn’t there, or he didn’t write the recipe down that you’re talking about. We’ll probably never find it. But are you sure this isn’t close?”
“Jah, I’m sure.”
She sighed. “Looks like I’ll be staying late again to practice.”
Just before closing, Mary made a pie but the result was the same as before. She cleaned the kitchen, locked the back door, hitched King and set him to a brisk pace. When he turned into the driveway, Mary glanced across the barnyard and noticed Hannah Smith’s, Sarah’s former assistant, buggy parked in the drive by the house.
She’d better hurry and say hi to Hannah before she left. She unhitched and fed King, then dashed into the kitchen.
“Ach, Hannah, it’s gut to see you.”
“Danki,” Hannah pulled out the chair next to her at the table and pointed to it. “I was hoping I’d get to see you. Sarah was just telling me that you’re going to enter the fall festival baking competition. How wunderbaar. That should give you a lot of publicity.”
Mary sat next to Hannah. “I was hoping we could put our heads together and come up with a fantastic apple recipe. Bishop Ropp was in the bakery today and insists Sarah’s daed had an apple pie recipe that he’d drive five miles just to eat a piece.”
Hannah turned to Mary’s stiefmutter. “What recipe is that, Sarah? Did we make it?”
“Nein, I don’t think so. I did find an old recipe book in the attic that belonged to Daed. It had an apple pie recipe.”
Mary nodded “I made it. Bishop Ropp tried a piece and said that wasn’t it.”
“While you two talk,” Sarah stood, “I’ll go back upstairs and look again.”
Hannah shook her head at Sarah. “I’ve seen that mess up in the attic before. We’ll all go. Remember, safety in numbers.”
Sarah raised a brow. “It’s not that bad.”
Mary climbed up the narrow attic steps first and pushed the small door open. She ducked her head and entered, but the ceiling was so low she had to stay bent over. She held the lantern as her stiefmutter and Hannah entered. “I’ll hold the light while you two search these boxes.”
Sarah pointed to a cardboard box. “Check that one, Hannah. I’m going to dig through this big one.”
Mary held the lantern high to shed light on both the boxes. Piece by piece, Sarah and Hannah picked through years of collecting.
“Here are some recipes,” Sarah shouted. “They’re loose ones in the very bottom of the box.” She pulled them out and carefully shuffled through the yellow, brittle pages.
Mary inched the lantern closer so Sarah could get a gut look at the writing. “What are they, Mamm?”
Sarah held up one of the pages, a smile playing across her face. “This one is an apple pie recipe. All of these loose recipes must have fallen out of the book when I grabbed it the other day.”
“You found it?” Mary stepped closer.
“Well, I found an apple pie recipe. You’ll have to make it, let Bishop Ropp try it and see if it’s the one.”
“Let’s get this stuff back in the boxes and get out of here.” Hannah wiped her brow. “It’s hot up here.”
As Mary led the parade back into the kitchen, her daed entered from the porch. She held the recipe up for him to see. “We think we found the recipe that was lost.”
“Gut. Have you told her yet, Sarah?”
“Nein, Caleb, I waited for you.”
Mary glanced from Sarah to her daed. “What’s going on?”
Her daed smiled. “Summer crops were gut. I have enough money to install additional kitchen electrical outlets and get it ready for the food-service expansion. That way, when you win the contest, you can install griddles, a panini press or whatever else you need. A carpenter will install a bar across the front of the bakery. We’ll buy a few high stools and create more customer space.
Mary charged across the kitchen and threw her arms around her daed. “Danki.” She turned back toward Sarah. “Both of you.”
Danki, Lord Jesus, for touching Daed’s heart so he could find a little money to spare. Mary glanced at the recipe and crushed it to her heart. Change was coming, and Mr. Noah Miller would soon discover that.
On Monday morning after getting his assistant squared away with her duties, Noah headed out the front door. A banging noise pulled his attention to the other side of the street. Was that racket coming from Sweet Delights?
Mary stepped out of her bakery, crossed the street and walked past his store, giving him the silent treatment.
“Nice morning for a stroll, Mary. Business must be good.”
She waved a hand in the air.
“What’s all that noise? Workmen at your bakery?”
She stopped and turned. “Smucker’s Electric is adding more outlets, and Bender Building and Supply is adding a luncheon counter.”
He hadn’t figured she’d remodel. “That’s good. You must be planning on winning the contest next month?”
“Worried, Miller?”
“Nope. Actually, I was going to pay my grandparents a visit and try to get to know them better. I wasn’t going to stay long, but I thought since you’re Amish, your presence might serve as a buffer between us. If you wouldn’t mind riding along, and I’m sure grandma would like your company.”
Mary glanced back at Sweet Delights. “I can get my mail later. Let me run and tell Amanda, but I can’t be gone more than an hour or so.”
“That’s fine.”
When she returned, Noah held the door for Mary while she slid in then ran around to his side. He started the engine and headed out of town. “How’s the recipe for the festival coming along?”
“So that’s why you asked me along?”
“Of course not. I thought if my grandparents see you, they might be nicer to me.” That wasn’t exactly the whole reason, but he couldn’t tell her that.
“Noah, what did you expect?” She softened her tone. “It was your parents’ decision to stay away.” She reached across the console and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Please try to understand it from their point of view.”
“Yes, I realize that.”
The next mile was quiet as Mary stared out her side window. She glanced his way, and he turned slightly to steal a look at her blond hair. Her cornflower-blue eyes set his heart ticking so hard he was afraid she’d hear it. He’d fibbed to her. He didn’t need her as a buffer between him and his grandparents, he just wanted to enjoy sitting beside her. She was lovely.
“This is the place.” Mary’s voice brought him out of his musing.
“Thanks, I wasn’t paying attention.” He pulled in the drive and parked by the house.
She leaned in. “Are you nervous about seeing your grosseldre again?”
Slowly, he turned toward her. “In a way, my family is such a mystery to me. They’re kin, yet they’re strangers. But I want to know them, see them and feel like I’m part of their family.”
She smiled. “So you’re thinking about converting to Amish?”
“No, I don’t really see me driving around in a buggy, going without electricity and dressing like everyone else in the community.”
She eyed his plaid shirt then dropped her gaze to his tan trousers. “Jah, I imagine Plain clothes wouldn’t really be your style.”
The barn door opened, and Thomas Miller walked in their direction.
Noah stepped out of his vehicle and opened the back door. “Mary, I brought a box of fresh green vegetables and some baked goods. Would you mind carrying it in the haus?”
“Sure.” She glanced at Thomas approaching and turned to Noah. “Be honest with him. Don’t pretend to be a grandson then disappear from his life.”
Mary’s words weighed on his heart as he walked to meet his grandpa. Mixed feelings pulled at his resolve. He had a dream for his future and expanding his brand into Des Moines. Yet he had a yearning to know his family, and in some small way, be part of their lives.
As the old man approached, Noah held out his hand. “Good morning.”
“Morgen. Did you come to help mend fence or learn to milk a cow?” Grandpa’s frown deepened, but he shook Noah’s hand.
Noah wasn’t sure, but it almost sounded like his grandpa had made a joke. “I stopped by to bring Grandma some vegetables and baked goods from the store, but if you need help, I’ll gladly do what I can.”
“Farming is hard work.”
“I know that, but I’d like to work with you, learn about farming and understand why you love it.”
Grandpa harrumphed. A deep line creased his forehead.
The old man’s expression tore at Noah’s heart. The frown lines in his grandpa’s face pointed to uncertainty, and it clawed at Noah’s innermost man to think he wasn’t trusted. He didn’t want to disappoint his grandpa. He wanted to be able to talk to him and love him freely. But was that even possible? Would the old man let him? “Would you show me around your farm?”
Grandpa’s face turned to one of puzzlement and then relaxed. “Jah, I can do that. Come, we’ll start with the milking floor.” He showed Noah all around the milking room and went through the procedures.
Noah walked beside Grandpa in silence, Mary’s words circling around in his head. Be honest with him. That was the question. Was he being honest with the old man or was he being selfish?
Mary knocked on the door, and Anna opened it with a surprised look.
“Gut Morgen, Anna.” Mary stepped in and set the box on the table. “Noah packed some fresh vegetables and breads for you.”
“So our grandson has paid us another visit, and you came along. Danki, it’s gut to have company. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“That would be nice.”
“Is our grandson thinking about joining our community?”
Mary caught her breath. “Anna, you’ll need to ask Noah that question. I can’t answer for him.”
Anna’s eyes sparkled. “I thought maybe you were courting, and that would bring our family back together.”
Her words startled Mary. “Nein. We are not courting.”
Anna nodded with disappointment crossing her face.
Mary’s chest ached for Anna. When Seth left, it ripped her heart in two and packed it with distrust. When he returned, it filled her with conflict. So she well imagined Anna’s distress. Mary hadn’t known that Anna and Thomas had a son Jeremiah. That’s the way it was with the Amish. If a child left the community, he was out of their lives. Now, this elderly couple had to deal with the conflict again.
“Would you like to see my current quilt project, Mary?” Anna asked. “It’s turning out lovely.”
“Sure.”
Anna led the way to the room with her stretching rack. “It’s called a Prairie Star patchwork quilt.”
“The fall colors are beautiful.” Mary examined the stitching. “You do gut work, Anna.”
“And how is your bakery business? I enjoy stopping there when I’m in town.”
A door banged closed, and Anna headed for the kitchen with Mary falling into step behind her. Thomas was in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee.
He nodded at Mary. “Noah is waiting for you by his vehicle.”
“Danki. It was nice seeing you both.” She hurried outside and down the walk. Noah held open the door, and she slid onto the seat. “What happened?”
Noah started the engine, drove down the drive and turned onto the gravel road. “He showed me around, starting with the milking floor and explained the procedure. Then he told me I should be learning this from my father. He reminded me that he was Amish, and I’m Englisch.”
Mary stared straight ahead. Thomas had politely drawn the line for Noah. It was a warning for him...that each should stay in their rightful community.
A twinge plucked at her heart. Jah, she too needed to take care and not spend too much time with Noah. He was Englisch and nothing could become of their friendship. She glanced his way as a hollow spot notched in her heart.