Chapter Twenty-Three
As Jo watched the Wengerds’ horse-drawn wagon pull off the road to come down the lane, excitement tickled her all over. After four and a half months of having Michael and Nelson stay in their dawdi haus each Friday night and then spend Saturdays working at The Marketplace, her life had fallen into a pleasant, predictable rhythm—and had taken a turn for the better. Although she knew nothing serious or permanent could come of her friendship with Michael, she enjoyed his company immensely. Even Mamm seemed happier these days because—though she didn’t admit it—she looked forward to sharing Friday night’s supper with Nelson and his son.
“The Wengerds must be coming,” her mother remarked from the stove, where she was stirring a big pot of venison stew. “If you were a dog, your tail would be wagging a mile a minute, twitchy as you are.”
Twitchy? Jo turned from the window to finish setting the table with four places. “You enjoy them, too, Mamm,” she challenged. “Back in June when they first began coming, I never would’ve guessed you’d invite them to join us for supper each week.”
“Puh! It’s the only polite thing to do, considering they arrive around five o’clock,” Mamm countered. “And it seems only right to feed them, as a return for all the odd jobs and maintenance they do around this place without my asking them.”
Jo was removing a pan of fresh dinner rolls from the oven when one of their guests knocked on the door. “Come on in!” she called out as she hurried through the front room to greet them.
When the door opened, she saw a huge pot of bright yellow mums that appeared to have sprouted two legs in broadfall trousers. “Special delivery for Miss Josephine Fussner,” Michael teased before peaking around his armful of flowers. “Dat has another plant for your mother. Where would you like us to put them?”
“What a nice surprise—and so pretty!” Jo exclaimed. “Is there room for a pot on either side of the porch steps? They’ll get some nice sunshine there.”
“That would be my choice of locations, jah,” Nelson replied from the doorway. His handsome face creased with a smile. “After selling out of our mums at the auctions, it’s a gut thing we saved these two back for you ladies. It’s our way of thanking you for your hospitality—and a way to celebrate how profitable it’s been for us to sell our flowers and vegetables in Morning Star.”
“I—I’m glad it’s worked out so well for you, considering the drive you make each week to get here,” Jo remarked. “All of our businesses do better because customers come to The Marketplace for your produce, pumpkins, and mums.”
She watched the two men position the big pots in their new spots, pleased with the pop of color the mums added to the shrubbery growing there. When the Wengerds returned to their wagon, Nelson carried their duffel bags to the dawdi haus while Michael returned to the front door carrying a large sack of apples and a plastic jug.
“For this weekend, we brought some baskets of apples and some pressed cider from a neighbor who has an orchard,” Michael explained as he rejoined Jo. “Folks out in the countryside don’t get the amount of customer traffic at their roadside stands that we see here at The Marketplace, so we offered to sell some of his crop tomorrow. For you!” he added, offering her the sack and the jug.
“Oh, these apples look so shiny and fresh—and it’s been an age since we had cider,” Jo remarked happily. “Come on in—the stew’s ready.”
“Happy to bring you ladies a little something,” Nelson put in as he came up the steps and into the front room. “It’s the least we can do, considering that your hospitality goes above and beyond what we’d originally agreed upon.”
“Come get your supper!” Mamm said. She’d been waiting for them in the kitchen doorway, more eager to see the Wengerds than she would ever let on. “Then you can tell me whether you’ll keep coming here all winter, or whether you’re staying in Queen City to put your feet up until spring.”
Michael and Nelson’s laughter filled the kitchen. “Funny you should ask that question, Drusilla,” Nelson teased. “If you could visit the new greenhouses we built over the summer, and see what’s growing in them—”
“You’d know we’re not going to take a lot of time off,” Michael chimed in. “At least not until after Christmas.”
As the men washed their hands at the sink, Jo set the cider and apples on the side counter. She filled a basket with warm rolls and put it on the table as Michael and Nelson took their usual seats at the table.
“You’ve hinted that you might be expanding, or trying something new, but you’ve kept us guessing about what you’re doing,” Jo said. She noticed the curiosity that lit Mamm’s eyes as she carried a steaming bowl of stew to the table.
“Poinsettias!” Michael blurted with a boyish smile.
“Thousands of poinsettias,” Nelson clarified. “We’ve always done well supplying the grocery stores, florists, and other outlets around Queen City and Kirksville each Christmas season, but when we realized how much business we were doing here with our other products, we decided to go all in. We used to raise around five thousand potted poinsettias in a season, but we now have eight thousand of them—”
“And we’re hoping you gals who manage The Marketplace will agree to advertise an open house or some other special event to help us sell them all!” Michael looked from Jo to her mother, and then his gaze lingered on Jo. “Of course, we figured on supplying some of those plants as decorations for the shops and the refreshment area, come December—”
“But that still leaves you with a lot of flowers to sell before Christmas,” Jo put in with a laugh. “Eight thousand poinsettias! I can’t imagine how colorful your greenhouses will look when they’re all in bloom!”
Michael and his dat shared a furtive glance. “Maybe you ladies should come and see for yourselves sometime in early December. We—we could show you around our gardens and greenhouses, and—”
“You could stay at our place,” Nelson added matter-of-factly. “So, it would be a nice little outing that wouldn’t cost you anything but a day or two of your—”
“Why would we want to do that?” Mamm demanded. Her earlier happiness dissipated like the steam from the stew bowl. “That’s a long trip. And we wouldn’t have the foggiest notion of how to get there, or—”
“That’s why we figured you could ride back to Queen City with us some Saturday night after The Marketplace closes,” Nelson said smoothly. “And Michael could drive you home whenever you’re ready.”
“Oh, but that would be fun!” Jo murmured wistfully.
“No, it wouldn’t!” Mamm shot back at her. “You know how cranky and sore I get when I have to sit in a rig more than ten or fifteen minutes.”
Sighing, Jo glanced apologetically at Michael. After all the time he and his dat had spent here, they knew Mamm could get cranky about the least little suggestion that might vary her routine—even if it didn’t involve a buggy ride.
Michael winked at Jo. “Well, it was only an idea.”
“Just something to think about,” Nelson agreed cordially. “Let’s bow our heads before this gut-smelling stew gets cold, shall we?”
Jo closed her eyes, but her thoughts were far from prayerful. Lord, why can’t my mother ever be happy? Michael and his dat are being so nice, inviting us to see their greenhouses, and—well, if there’s any way at all You can bring us a positive outcome, please bless us with Your assistance.
After the grace, as they were passing the food, Nelson looked at Mamm. “Drusilla, is it inconvenient—or a disruption to your rental business—if Michael and I continue to stay in your dawdi haus through the holidays?” he asked. “If it is, we’ll find other Friday night lodging—”
“Don’t even think about it!” Jo blurted. “You’ve been a steady source of income for us all summer, and we’ve still taken in other guests on weeknights. And besides that,” she added when Mamm appeared ready to object, “we don’t get nearly as many reservations during the winter months. We’d be delighted to have you.”
Michael’s smile told Jo he understood that she was steering the conversation in a better direction. “We’re happy to hear that. After our week’s work in the greenhouses and our Queen City shop, it’s always a nice break to drive through the countryside with a wagonload of our flowers and produce.”
“Jah, this fall has been exceptionally colorful, with all the maple and sweet gum trees blazing in bright reds and oranges when the sunlight hits them,” Nelson remarked. He closed his eyes to bite into his dinner roll, which he’d dipped into the stew sauce on his plate. “And you have no idea how much we look forward to the Friday night suppers you cook for us, Drusilla and Jo. You’ve been very gracious to invite us to join you. I haven’t tasted venison stew in years, and this is delicious.”
Mamm remained focused on her meal, pretending Nelson’s compliment hadn’t made her glow a little.
Jo smiled at Nelson, nodding subtly. “We enjoy your company—and hearing about your nursery business, too. With the weather getting colder, how will you keep all those poinsettias at their best? Don’t they require a lot of warmth and attention?”
“The most important thing is not to let the temperature dip below fifty-eight degrees,” Michael replied. “Our bishop has allowed us to install an alarm system that goes off when it gets that cool—”
“And then we burn wood chips from some nearby sawmills to run the greenhouse heaters,” Nelson explained further. “Between now and the end of the year, we’ll probably go through a trailer truckload of chips each week to keep our poinsettias warm enough.”
“But then, as the end of November comes around and the blooms turn red,” Michael chimed in eagerly, “each greenhouse is a sea of color from one end to the other! It’s a sight I never tire of.”
Jo could imagine how spectacular all those blooming flowers must look—and how fresh the air must smell in the greenhouses. Now that the Wengerds had invited her to share that experience, she yearned to go.
“We also raise white poinsettias and a few other varieties in shades of pink,” Nelson said, “but the red ones are by far the most popular.”
“When we bring the flowers to The Marketplace, we could arrange some in the shape of a tall Christmas tree—maybe right in the center of the commons area, where folks would see it when they walked in,” Michael suggested. “You’d lose some of your refreshment seating that way—”
“Oh, but wouldn’t that be a fabulous sight?” Jo interrupted excitedly. “But I hope you’ll still be able to sell those plants—maybe tag them as folks speak for them, and they could claim them that weekend before Christmas? We don’t want you losing money on them, because once the holidays are past, nobody will want them, right?”
When the Wengerds smiled at her, their faces were nearly identical except that Michael’s didn’t have the laugh lines that bracketed his dat’s mouth and eyes—nor did he have Nelson’s salt-and-pepper hair.
“That sort of forward thinking is the reason The Marketplace is doing so well,” Nelson remarked with an approving nod. “You and the other gals who organize things and keep track of the money understand that, as small business owners, we have to turn a profit on everything we bring—even if it’s a display.”
“We’ve made poinsettia trees a few other places, so we’ll take care of the ordering details,” Michael put in as he reached for another roll. His blue eyes twinkled with anticipation. “Denki for allotting us some space for them. It’s only the middle of October, but I think we’re already on the way to a very merry, profitable Christmas season.”
Though her mother had dropped out of the conversation, Jo found the Wengerds’ enthusiasm contagious. The upcoming holidays—not to mention Michael and Nelson’s continued company on Friday nights—gave her a lot to look forward to. And for that, she was grateful.