The following morning as Noah stepped into the Stolzfus Bakery, the scent of cinnamon awakened his senses. Even though he’d eaten a large breakfast, his stomach still rumbled. He scanned the room. Empty tables. Either the morning rush was over, or a recent mishap with—he took another whiff—burnt cinnamon had driven the customers away.
A woman, squatting behind the glass display case, was busy filling the shelf with pastries.
He bent down. She wasn’t the one who handed him the cookies yesterday.
“I’ll be with you in—” Her eyes met his through the glass. She stood, set the empty pan on the counter, then wiped her hands on her apron. “Can I help you?”
He stared at the flour dust on her forehead.
She cleared her throat.
“I, uh . . .” Noah couldn’t recall the last time he was tongue-tied. He redirected his attention to the glass case and peered at the baked goods. “I thought I smelled cinnamon.”
The bell sounded over the door and a woman entered. “Joy, I think something’s burning.”
“Mei cinnamon rolls!” Joy turned on her heel and sped into the kitchen with the other woman following.
Noah leaned over the counter. He didn’t see any billowing smoke, but the foul scent and the sound of clanging pans caused alarm. “Do you need the fire department?”
“Nay, danki. Everything is fine.” Her voice sounded rushed.
He eased behind the counter and poked his head into the kitchen. “Is there anything I can—?”
The charred substance stuck to the cookie sheet smoked when Joy held it under the running faucet. She fanned the smoke away from her face and coughed. “Will you help the man out front, please?”
“I’m nett in a hurry.” Noah wanted to wait for her. What did the other woman call her, Joy?
But the younger woman motioned for him to follow her out of the kitchen. “Mei sister’s going to be detained. May I help you?”
“I thought I might try a cinnamon roll until I saw them smoking.” He glanced over his shoulder at Joy scrubbing the pan.
The younger sister laughed. “Jah, they’re under water nau. What else can I get for you?”
“Do you have any of the peppermint frosted cookies?” He returned to the customer’s side of the counter.
“Do we have those?” Her brows creased as she searched the display shelves.
“The ones yesterday had chunks of candy on them.” He looked, too, but didn’t see any.
“Let me check in the kitchen.”
He strained to listen but couldn’t decipher the mumbling. A moment later, Joy came out from the kitchen, her balled hands resting on her hips. “You requested the peppermint cookies?”
“Jah.”
“The ones with crushed candy on the frosting?” Her eyes narrowed.
He nodded. “You sent a box to—”
“I know who I sent it to,” she growled under her breath. “So he shared them with you.”
He smiled. “Is there something wrong with that?” Even with a stern expression, she was still cute. He dug his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This is for you.”
Her cheeks blushed. She looked over her shoulder before taking the letter, then quickly folded the envelope in half.
“Aren’t you going to read it?”
“Nay!”
“The cookies were gut,” he said, trying to soften her up.
“Danki.” She stared at the envelope. “How well do you know him?”
More than he dared to admit at the moment. She might chase him out of the bakery with a cookie cutter if he admitted to receiving her mixed-up mail. Noah shrugged. “He builds cabinets.”
“That much I had figured out. You must know him fairly well if he opened the box and offered you a cookie.”
He peered into the glass display. “I was hoping you had more today. But I don’t see any.”
“Those were a new Christmas cookie.”
He grinned. “Well, I hope I don’t have to wait until Christmas before I have another one.”
She opened her mouth but closed it when her sister sprang from the kitchen. Humming softly, the younger sister went to the coffeepot. “Ach, I didn’t think we still had a customer.” She filled a cup with coffee. “I’ll ring him up, Joy. You can go.”
“Jah, danki. I have a few errands to run.” She turned without making eye contact with him and scooted into the kitchen.
The younger woman approached the display. “Did you decide on anything?”
He pointed to a strawberry pastry. “I’ll take one of those, please.” As she stuffed the treat into a paper bag, he turned and glanced out the front window. Seeing Joy walk past the window, he tossed a few dollar bills on the counter and grabbed the bag.
“Don’t you want your change?”
“Keep it.” He sped out the door. “Joy.” He jogged up to her.
She stashed the letter she’d been reading up her dress sleeve. “How-how do you know mei name?”
“In the bakery. Your sister just—I’m sorry. Did I frighten you?”
“I’m nett used to customers following me.”
He motioned toward the fabric store a couple of blocks ahead. “I was supposed to check today if the fabric store has a horse-and-buggy pattern. Remember?” He eyed her hand clutching the wristband on her dress. “So are you two pen pals nau?”
“By accident,” she muttered. Her blue eyes widened. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “I thought it was nice that you made him Christmas cookies. And you seemed interested in the letter.”
Her cheeks flushed. She started to walk. Fast. “Please tell me he’s Amish.”
“He is.” Noah kept pace.
They reached the curb and stopped. She peered up at the traffic light. “How old is he?”
“Mei age.” He liked that she showed interest. “How old are you?”
She eyed him sharply. “I don’t tell strangers mei age.”
“Sorry.” He should’ve known women were sensitive about their age if they were in their midtwenties and still unmarried. “You’ve asked about him. What would you like me to say about you?”
“Nothing.”
They waited for a pickup truck to pass through the intersection and then crossed the street together. He couldn’t remember feeling this awkward around a woman before. “You must nett have been a baker long.”
She stopped. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re nett—”
She narrowed her blue eyes.
“You’re nett as big as . . .”
Her jaw dropped.
“I mean—well, you work around sweets all day.” This isn’t going well. “So how long have you been a baker?”
She stared a moment longer, then finally said, “Mei parents bought the bakery ten years ago, but I suppose I’ve been baking since I was old enough to stand on a stool next to mei mamm and stir cake batter.”
“A family business. That’s nice.”
Her steps paused, but instead of directing her attention to him, she faced the building.
Now what did he say wrong? It occurred to him then how in one of her letters she mentioned her parents were deceased. He opened his mouth to apologize, but her interest was elsewhere.
She rose to her tiptoes and peered into the front window of the hardware store. Her expression sobered, and she dropped back down and continued walking. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
He shook his head. Nothing important. He glanced over his shoulder. Gingrich Hardware. Not the typical store where a woman would window-shop, but something in her expression conveyed it wasn’t merchandise she was looking for.
Joy increased her pace. This man walking beside her asked too many questions. He probably thought she hadn’t figured out that he was interviewing her on the cabinetmaker’s behalf. She’d already said more than she wished, especially since she didn’t even know the man’s name. He liked peppermint cookies and wanted to buy a pattern of a horse and buggy. What was she doing walking with a stranger? A shudder went through her.
“Are you kalt?”
“Nay.” Even if she were, she wouldn’t have admitted it. What would he do? Offer her his coat? Once they reached the fabric store, she stopped. “Well, good luck with finding your pattern.”
“You’re nett going in?”
Joy shook her head. “I have to pick up supplies at the dry goods store.” Why was she making up excuses?
“Danki for allowing me to walk with you.” He reached for the door handle.
Joy nodded, then continued on her route. A few feet away, she retrieved the crumpled letter.
Dear J.,
You didn’t say much in your letter. Did I hurt your feelings about the rose-colored glasses?
“Joy?” the friendly man called.
She wadded up the paper and turned slowly to face him. “Jah?”
He glanced at her hand and grinned. “If you’re going to make cinnamon rolls tomorrow, will you set a dozen aside for me to buy?”
“Sure.”
He grinned. “I’ll let you get back to reading your letter.”
Thankfully he turned before the heat crawling up her neck reached her face.
“Don’t keep saying the bakery’s in trouble.” Joy looked to her older sister to challenge Matthew’s statement, but Lois merely nodded with her husband.
“You can’t say that you didn’t see this coming.” Matthew folded his hands and rested them on the table. “We didn’t get the fall tourism like we needed. The early rain stripped the trees of their leaves and no one goes on scenic tours when there’s nothing to see. I’m sorry. I know how much the bakery means to you, Joy.”
“Nett just me.” She stared at Lois. “This is all we have left of Mamm and Daed. The fire took everything else.”
“They wouldn’t want it to become a burden,” Lois said.
“A burden! That’s nett how I see it and I’m at the bakery more hours than everyone.” Of course, she hadn’t had a paycheck in a year. Perhaps her living with her sister and brother-in-law had become burdensome for them. “Are you upset that Sarah and I are living here and we haven’t been able to help you financially?”
“Nay,” Matthew said.
“I know having us here must be imposing. You’ve supported us and bought feed for our horses. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”
“Joy.” Lois reached across the table and clasped Joy’s hands. “We love having you and Sarah here. But it doesn’t change the fact that the bakery isn’t making a profit.”
“Does Sarah know?”
Lois glanced at her husband, then back to Joy. “We wanted to tell you first.”
“We have to be open for the sleigh ride. Mamm and Daed started the Second Christmas tradition. Everyone in the district makes plans to attend.”
Matthew sighed. “It might nett be possible.”
“I’ll figure out things to cut. We don’t need to carry the specialty desserts. The ones with pecans . . .” Joy mentally compiled a list. Dates were expensive; she wouldn’t reorder them either.
“I don’t think that will be enough.” Matthew frowned.
“I’ll sell more bread.”
“You can sell bread even if the bakery closes,” he said. “Bake it here.”
Apparently the decision had already been made. Tears spilled down Joy’s cheeks as she closed her eyes. Lord, please don’t let this happen. Please.