CHAPTER TWO
Margot was a smart woman, and she didn’t wait around to see if I would change my mind. To be honest, I regretted my promise to help as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I didn’t have time to take on this massive project, but even if I could work up the nerve to say so, I never got the chance because Margot ran across the green to the church as if the heels of her sneakers were on fire.
I could only assume her getaway car was parked in the church lot. I looked up from Margot’s list, which seemed to grow longer by the second. What on earth did “Dancing Pilgrims” mean? As far as I knew, there was no dancing at the first Thanksgiving, and pious pilgrims would not be the first group of people that I thought of cutting a rug. Also, did she want to offend the many Amish in attendance? Amish folks didn’t dance at all.
“Everything okay?” a kind yet gravelly voice asked.
Lois Henry stood a few feet from me. In her arms, she held a half dozen woven cornucopias.
I consulted the list. Sure enough, number 158 read that Lois Henry would be supplying the cornucopia centerpieces for the tables stuffed with fresh fruit and flowers.
“I’m all right,” I said. “Just trying to take it all in.”
Lois cocked her head and her bright, spikey purple-red hair caught the sunlight. “You don’t look all right to me. Is that Margot’s clipboard in your hands? Does she know that you have it? I would put it down on the ground and walk away slowly if I were you. She guards that thing like a hawk.” She swiveled her head back and forth as if waiting for Margot to jump out of the bushes that circled the large white gazebo in the middle of the village square. One chunky plastic green earring hit the side of her face as her head turned. Lois never met a piece of costume jewelry that she didn’t love.
“She gave it to me,” I said. “She had to go to the airport to pick up her mother. She asked me to take over checking things off the list for tomorrow. It’s quite a list.” I flipped to the last page. “There are three hundred and eleven items on it.” I let out a breath.
“Oh wow!” Lois gasped. “Zara is coming back to the village. We had better batten down the hatches. There are going to be fireworks!”
I stared at her. “You know Margot’s mother?”
“Sure do.” She whistled. “The woman is a powerhouse to be admired and feared.”
I held the clipboard to my chest. “That was the impression I got from Margot too.”
She held up the cornucopias. “Let me set these down and we can tackle that list together.”
“I’d really appreciate that, Lois. To say that I’m stretched to my limit would not be an exaggeration.”
“This is a big weekend for retail, and your business is booming.” She dropped the cornucopias onto the same table where I’d left my display dishes when I went to rescue Leon.
“How do you know Zara?”
“Margot and I grew up together. She was behind me a few years in school, but the school was small. Everyone knew everyone else. Her mother was something. Back when we were kids, there weren’t as many single moms as you have today. I think a lot of women stayed married because they felt like they didn’t have any choices. Not Zara though. She was divorced and put herself through college and law school. All the while she was raising Margot too.” Lois placed a jeweled hand to her chest. “As a strong woman who has been a single mom and married four times myself, I can appreciate that.”
“Do you know why Margot wouldn’t want to see her?” I asked, and then I held up my hand. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m prying into their relationship, and that’s personal business.”
“Maybe you are just a little bit,” she said with a wink. “But I’m not going to tell you anything that people over fifty in the village don’t already know. Margot’s mother can be harsh. Zara is not a person you want to mess with. I’ve seen her make grown men cry. My first ex-husband was one of the men she made cry at least twice when he came in front of her bench. He wasn’t the greatest guy in the world, and in hindsight, I think both times he deserved it.”
“I have never seen Margot so unhinged. Not even when a herd of sheep got loose in the center of town and ate all the flowers in her manicured pots or when there was a murder in the village. She took all of that in stride, but picking her mother up from the airport has her in a complete tizzy.”
Lois nodded. “If I were Margot, I would be unhinged too. Zara is a perfectionist through and through, and she only really has respect for other perfectionists like her. As hard as Margot tried, she never measured up to her mother’s standards of greatness. She wasn’t pretty enough, athletic enough, or smart enough. She was a good student, but never had the highest grades.”
Hearing this made me sad. “But I would say that Margot is very successful. With everything she’s done for the village, she should be proud to show her mother her accomplishments.”
Lois twirled one of her large rings around her finger. “Maybe. But . . .” Lois hesitated and twirled the ring again. “Zara was such a perfectionist, she was, well, rather obsessive. I don’t think Margot had an easy go of it.”
“Maybe things will be different now,” I offered.
“Maybe.” Lois shrugged. “Times were different then. Zara was a successful attorney in the nineteen sixties and seventies when being a woman in that field was a hindrance. She never let anyone judge her by her gender. I believe because Zara had to fight so hard for her place, she was even stricter in her courtroom—and in her expectations of her daughter. Unfortunately, it was a time when a woman had to come off as tough to be taken seriously in a man’s world.”
“I guess I can see why Margot would be nervous about her coming here, especially for such a major holiday.”
Lois nodded. “I didn’t have a great relationship with my parents either. They have long since passed, but I can understand how Margot feels. I certainly wouldn’t want my parents as surprise guests.”
I looked down at the clipboard. “In that case, I want to do right by Margot. She does so much for the village. I think we should try to put our best foot forward to show her mother how she’s helped the village grow.” I frowned. “But there is so much to do at Swissmen Sweets. I at least have to run to the shop and tell them what’s going on.”
“Millie and I can handle this list for a little while.”
Millie was Millie Fisher, the village’s Amish matchmaker and Lois’s best friend. The two women were ideologically and fashionably miles apart but were kindred spirits in the best possible ways. They reminded me of myself and my best friend, Cass Calbera, who was a chocolatier in New York.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”
I put Margot’s precious clipboard in her hand. “I won’t be gone too long. I just want to run over to the shop and update them. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
“Don’t rush, honey. The lunch rush at the Sunbeam Café doesn’t start for over an hour from now.”
The Sunbeam Café was the café owned by Lois’s granddaughter, Darcy Woodin. Lois worked as a waitress and hostess in the café during the busy hours of the day.
“I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”
“Go.” She shooed me away. “Nothing will go wrong.”
I nodded and jogged across the green toward Main Street. Lois’s comment that nothing could possibly go wrong rang in my ears. In my experience, phrases like that were spoken just before disaster struck.
I waited for a buggy to roll down the street before I crossed to Swissmen Sweets. The newly washed windows sparkled in the sunshine. There was a fresh coat of paint on the window frames and the front door too. The words “Swissmen Sweets” were etched into the large picture window. Since I began working at the shop with my grandmother, I’d slowly made improvements, some small, like the fresh coat of paint, others more momentous, like launching the online store. A lot at Swissmen Sweets had changed over the last few years. However, the heart of the shop was the same. We still made candies and sweets using traditional Amish recipes and methods. We were still closed on Sundays and began the workday at four a.m. every morning to make the candies fresh for every customer who ambled through the door or placed an order in cyberspace.
As I stepped into Swissmen Sweets, Puff, the large white rabbit, and Nutmeg, the orange tabby, greeted me at the door. By their expectant faces I believed they thought it was lunchtime already, but it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet.
I shook my finger at both of them. “You just had breakfast not too long ago.”
My cousin Charlotte stood behind the glass-domed display counter, still surprising me with her English appearance. Charlotte grew up Amish, but just recently decided to leave the faith to live in English society. Her straight red hair, which I was so used to seeing tied back from her face in an Amish bun, was tethered in a long braid. Amish women didn’t cut their hair. Ever. As of yet, Charlotte had not taken the plunge to cut her hair, but she was wearing it down and braided more often. It seemed to me that cutting her hair was the final step in her choice to leave the Amish community for good. Whether she realized it or not, she just wasn’t there yet.
“I don’t think Nutmeg or Puff believe you. They always feel they lack treats. Nutmeg has been watching the commotion out at the square through the window all day. It’s like his personal movie theater.” She looked at Puff on the floor. “I think Puff is jealous since she can’t get up on the windowsill to look out.”
I scratched Puff’s head between her two downy white ears. “You will get extra carrots tonight. I promise.”
She twitched her nose. I was certain that she was making a mental note about the treat. If I forgot, she’d remind me. Puff loved carrots.
“Why were you over there so long? You said you were just going to drop off the display dishes. . . .” She frowned. “I peeked out the window with Nutmeg when you didn’t come back right away. You were talking to Margot. What does she want you to do this time?”
I made a face. It was a fair question. It seemed that every time I ran into Margot, she asked me to do something. This time had been no exception.
Maami came out of the kitchen carrying a fresh tray of buckeye candies. I could smell the heavenly scent of peanut butter and chocolate. Was there ever a better candy combination?
Maami was a petite woman with white hair that was styled back in an Amish bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a plain blue dress with a black apron over it and a white prayer cap on her head. There were remnants of powdered sugar on the front of her apron.
It was clear that she was in the middle of making more candies to sell this weekend, which was good. We needed to be making candies around the clock to be ready for the busy days ahead, which we hoped would bring the biggest sales in the shop’s history. Ever since my cable television show on Gourmet Television went on the air, business had boomed.
When a television producer approached me two years ago to host a cooking show about Amish candy making, I had never imagined that it would do so well. Soon I would be headed to New York to film the third season. The show’s success meant success for Swissmen Sweets. In the last two years our business had grown tenfold, and we were reaching the point that it could not grow any more and be sustainable unless we physically expanded the business. It was something that I had thought a lot about lately, but as of yet had not worked up the courage to discuss with Maami.
Charlotte reached for one of the buckeyes, and Maami pulled the tray away before she could steal one. “These are a special batch made just for Aiden. They are his favorite. Since he’s recently moved, I thought it was only right to make him a batch of his very own. I’m going to give them to him tomorrow.”
“I can take them when I see him Saturday night,” I said.
Maami stared at me. “Won’t Aiden be at the village for Thanksgiving?”
I shook my head. “He has to work. He texted this morning to tell me.” I tried to keep my voice light so the disappointment I felt wouldn’t show. Aiden was in law enforcement; his job was important. He was doing good work, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was heartbroken at the idea that we’d spend yet another holiday apart.
Charlotte gave me a pitying look. I broke eye contact. “I’ll still be able to see him this weekend. I’m sure after he’s more settled in Columbus, things will become easier.”
“Of course they will,” my grandmother said in her most soothing voice. “Now, back to what I overheard Charlotte saying. Who wants Bailey to do what?”
I said, “Margot stopped me on the square. She wants me to help her out at the square for a couple of hours. I hate to leave you all on such a busy day.”
Maami waved away this concern. “Don’t worry about it. We have production well in hand. I personally know that you have been working late at night at the shop over the last two weeks to prepare for this weekend.” She eyed me. “You have even worked on Sundays, haven’t you?”
My grandmother didn’t approve of anyone working on the Sabbath, whether or not they were members of the Amish church. I knew better than to argue with her about that even though working on Sunday had made me feel better about the busy schedule of the coming week.
Her face softened. “You have been working very hard. Charlotte and I can manage for a few hours. Why does Margot need your help? I would have thought she’d have everything well in hand for tomorrow. She usually does.”
“Margot is stressed. Her mother is coming to visit for Thanksgiving. She had to head to the airport and pick her up.”
“Zara is coming home?” Maami asked.
“You know her too?” I asked.
“Too?” Maami’s eyes went wide.
“Lois knows her.”
“Oh.” Her face cleared. “Ya, of course she would.”
“How well do you know her?”
“Not very well. She’s a bit older than me, and I am older than Margot. We didn’t overlap much. However, I most certainly know who she is. She was a powerful woman in the county twenty years ago. I think there were many people who let out a sigh of relief when she left. I know people think that Margot can be forceful, but she is not nearly as . . .” She paused as if she were searching for the right word. “As self-important as her mother.”
I wanted to ask my grandmother who exactly gave a sigh of relief when Zara left, but before I could, the front door of Swissmen Sweets opened.
It was still before ten in the morning when the shop officially opened, so I was about to turn around and let the customer know we weren’t quite ready for sales yet. Only I found it wasn’t a customer at all. It was Juliet Brook, and her miniature potbellied pig Jethro was in her arms. Jethro wriggled his black and white polka-dotted body to get out of his mistress’s grasp as soon as he saw Puff and Nutmeg. The odd trio of animals were the very best of friends.
No one had told them rabbits should be afraid of cats and cats shouldn’t be friends with pigs.
“Oh my, Jethro. Calm yourself,” Juliet complained as she set the pig on the ground. His hooves skidded on the wide plank floor, and he bopped noses with first the cat and then the rabbit.
Juliet straightened and brushed off the sleeve of her brown and white polka-dotted coat. Juliet loved polka dots on everything. I never thought to ask her which came first, Jethro or the polka dots, but they certainly were a package deal as far as she was concerned.
Juliet placed the back of her hand to her forehead as if she might swoon. Knowing Juliet, it was entirely possible.
I stepped forward. “Juliet, are you all right? Do you need to sit down?” I pulled out a chair for her at one of the three café tables in the front of the shop.
“Oh, thank you, Bailey. I really don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve just been a rock for me since Aiden moved away. I know he’s a grown man, but I’ve missed him so much. And now he’s not coming home for Thanksgiving. Can you imagine? BCI is working him too hard. He needs a break. What’s a mother to do?” She placed a hand to her chest. “But I could never miss him as much as you have. I certainly hope this is not giving you cold feet about the wedding.”
Behind me Charlotte’s bark of a laugh was covered with a fake cough. I shot a look over my shoulder. For well over a year, Juliet had been hinting that she thought her son Aiden and I should get married sooner rather than later. If I was being completely honest, I had thought we might be at least engaged by the end of this year too, but that seemed unlikely to happen now.
“Is there something we can get for you, Juliet?” Maami asked.
“Oh, well I just came by to speak with Bailey.” She looked down at her little pig, who was snuggled up with the rabbit in Nutmeg’s cat bed. “You know tomorrow is a very important day for the village. This Thanksgiving meal will be a great event and will do so much to improve the relationship between the Amish and English in Harvest, but . . .” She looked down at the pig again and fell silent.
“But what?” I asked even though I knew very well what she was about to say. I wanted her to say it.
“Jethro is the best pig in the world. I think everyone is agreed on that point, but it’s very tense at the church right now. . . .” Juliet went on as if she had to win her case. “Everyone at the church is working overtime to get all the cooking and baking done for tomorrow. I’m sorry to say that my little pig is underfoot. I took him upstairs to my husband’s office, where the poor man is working diligently on Sunday’s sermon. I will tell you, the reverend gets no rest at all, but Jethro broke out of the office. He just opened the door and waltzed back down to the kitchen. I told you he is a smart pig. I think you’re the only one who can keep him away from the church kitchen.”
I glanced down at Jethro, and he looked up at me. Within the last hour I had been asked to supervise the setup of the village’s Thanksgiving and to watch a runaway pig. It was just like any other day for me in Harvest.
“I can watch Jethro,” I said, because there really wasn’t anything else I could say.
“Oh thank you, thank you,” Juliet said. “The way you treat Jethro is just more proof that you will be an amazing mother. What a wonderful day that will be! I can’t wait to hold my grandbaby in my arms.” Her native Carolina accent grew thicker as it always did when she spoke with emotion.
After Juliet left, Charlotte chuckled, “I’m sorry, Bailey, I shouldn’t laugh, but it seems to me that you always get stuck with that pig.”
It seemed to me that was true too.