A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) (21 page)

Lydia began a list of the items as Aaron brought them into the office. She was stunned by all Gabe had been able to collect and still unable to envision Aaron’s plan for what they were going to do with it. Where would these items go? They couldn’t leave them in the office. She wouldn’t be able to move around to do her work.

By the time Gabe was finished repairing the other two roofs, Aaron had unloaded everything and set the items on the table or stacked them along the wall. He was returning from feeding and watering Chance when Gabe scraped off his boots and walked into the office.

Lydia continued to stare down at her tablet, tapping her pen against the paper.

“This is a
gut
start, Gabe. You had a busy morning.” She moved to pour him a glass of tea, which he accepted gratefully. He also eyed the peanut butter cookies she’d filled up the glass jar with, but when she moved to offer him one, he shook his head no.

“If I come home weighing more than when I left, Miriam won’t let me leave again.” He laughed and patted his stomach, which Lydia didn’t think needed watching.

She supposed it was natural for married couples to look out for each other. Better early than after one had gained twenty or thirty pounds. She glanced at Aaron, and then she quickly looked back down at her pad.

“Each family was satisfied with your terms of eighty/twenty. And they all had plenty more already made up should you need it. Some weekends are
gut
and some aren’t, so there’s no continuity to their sales.”

“And do any of them offer their goods at Drake’s?”

“Only Irene Gingerich and Nathan Glick.” Gabe picked up a walking stick and ran his hand down the smooth finish. “You ought
to go by and see all he has in his woodshop. I couldn’t bring the larger things in my buggy, and I wouldn’t have purchased them if I could. Those are big items you need to decide on yourself.”

“Blanket chests?”

“
Ya
, and rockers that would look
gut
on the porches.”

“I’ll want directions to his place.”

“Sure. Or Lydia knows the way. It’s not far from here.”

Lydia felt the heat rise in her cheeks. The thought of riding in the buggy with Aaron unsettled her, though she knew it would be for business purposes and not for pleasure.

Waving her hand over the abundance of goods, she tried not to sound whiney. “Where are we going to put all of these things, Aaron? They can’t all stay here. There will be no place to serve breakfast, assuming we have customers who need serving, and I pray we do.”

“Gabe, you purchased five of each item, right?”

“
Ya
. Like you said.” Gabe emptied his glass and carried it to the sink. “I told them you would bring around the money in the next week. Some people insisted on sending more than five. They claimed to have extra stock lying around and said it might as well sit here where someone might see and purchase it.”

“Looks like we have Gabe’s walnut bowls—nicely done—plus quilts, walking sticks, canned jams, rugs, dolls, and bonnets.” Lydia stopped and walked over to the pile on the table. “Do you honestly think
Englischers
will purchase hand-sewn bonnets?”

“I do,” Aaron said. “And I plan on ordering straw hats as well from the same factory Drake orders them.”

“Why would
Englischers
want straw hats and cloth bonnets?” Lydia asked. “They’re not Plain.”

“The straw hats are for the children and the adults—folks protecting themselves from the sun. The bonnets, now those are for the young
kinner
.” Aaron reached for a cookie as he explained. “Didn’t you notice how many were purchasing them at Drake’s?”

“I did not.”

“Probably he’s right, Lydia. Irene Gingerich sews those. She’s Lily’s mom, and Lily is Grace’s
freind
.”

Lydia wasn’t convinced, and it must have showed on her face, for Gabe pushed on. “She’s the one house I stopped at who was making
gut
money at Drake’s. Said he’d actually raised the price from what she set it at because they sold out of the first bundle she sent—both the dolls and the bonnets. But she said she’d rather sell things here with you. She said not only would she make more, but she’d sleep better at night.”

“What about Miriam’s
bruder
David? He’s going to bring some of his toys, right?”

“
Ya
, I think so.” Gabe caved in and reached for one of the cookies as well. “Lydia, don’t forget to offer your
mamm
’s baked goods. I know they will sell.”

Lydia was momentarily distracted by the thought of extra income for her family and by the knowledge of how it would help, but then her eyes refocused on the pile of stuff in front of her. “This isn’t a large room, Aaron. When we have a few families here and I’m serving breakfast, it becomes full quickly. Add in a general store, and we’ll be tripping over each other. Or maybe you’re thinking of building a store on the property?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Write that down for phase two, would you?”

“Phase two? I was kidding!”

“It’s a
gut
idea, though,” Gabe said. “You’re lucky to have her around, Aaron.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Lydia sighed. “You two aren’t listening to me. We offer a place for people to sleep and then we provide them breakfast. Where are you going to put all of this?”

Both men stopped chewing long enough to stare around the office. It was well constructed, like the cabins.

And it was Plain.

“David suggested building shelves.” Aaron stood and walked to the far wall. It was bare, without pictures or a window. “We’ll put them here, floor to ceiling.”

“And all of this is going on the shelves?” Lydia tried to envision it and then scolded herself for being such a pessimist.

“No. I want you to go to work on cabins two, seven, and eight. They have the best view of the river. Those will be our three
new
Plain cabins…”

“New because…” Lydia felt Gabe’s eyes on them, watching, enjoying the tug as Aaron pulled her over to his vision.

“Because we have to start somewhere. Our guests want a home away from home, and we’re going to give them one—a simple, clean, Plain one.” He walked around the table, collecting a quilt, a walking stick, some rugs, a walnut bowl, and a doll, and then he placed them all into her arms. “You start on cabin two while Gabe and I fetch wood for shelving.”

“Sure, boss. It’s not like we have any customers I need to get ready for.”

“Well, you will have. I’m also picking up some office supplies. You’re about to start a letter-writing campaign.”

What was a letter-writing campaign?

Not that she should complain. She needed this job, and with empty cabins, she realized Aaron couldn’t pay her to sit around in the office chair. So she’d tote new quilts into cabins near the river and she’d write letters.

Sure. She could do that.

It didn’t bother her so much that she wouldn’t do it.

She squared her shoulders as she traipsed down the trail toward the river. Hard work had never bothered her.

What did worry her maybe a smidgen was Aaron Troyer. As he had fetched his hat off the hook by the door, she thought she heard him whistling. She was sure she saw a grin on Gabe’s face. The two of them together might manage to patch a leaky roof and build shelves. They might complete a lot of work that needed to be done, but there
was also the potential for trouble—same as when two boys sitting at the back of the classroom took to whispering.

Trouble.

She could smell it, like rain in the air.

Chapter 18

M
iriam was ready to leave for her mother’s house Tuesday morning as soon as Grace had climbed into Eli’s buggy. Their old
freind
smiled and lifted a hand as he pulled away, his vehicle filled with his children bundled and eager for school. A familiar pang sliced into Miriam’s heart as she thought about the schoolhouse and the days she’d spent teaching there, but she pushed the memory down. Today she needed to focus on her family. There was no time to look toward the past.

“We could drive Grace to school ourselves now,” she said to her husband.

“And deny her the chance to ride with Sadie? It would break both of their hearts, not to mention hurting Eli’s feelings.” Gabe finished harnessing Belle.

“I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Grace, but what did you think of the grade she received on her report?”

“The
B
? I was happy with it.”

“Yes, but Gabe, it was a fine paper. There were no errors in spelling or grammar.”

Gabe stopped fiddling with the horse, stepped closer, and cupped her face in his hands. Kissing her softly on the lips, he whispered, “You’re a
gut mamm
. You know that, right?”

“Yes, but—” Miriam tried to put her thoughts back into order.

“Grace explained about the grade and about the meeting with Miss Bena.”

Miss Bena, that’s what she’d meant to talk to him about before he’d kissed her, before he’d distracted her.

“The drawing is the best she’s ever done,” she said.

“And I think the bishop will appreciate seeing it.”

“So you believe the grade to be fair?”

Gabe leaned forward and kissed her again—this time his lips like the brush of a breeze against hers. “I think it would do more harm than good to argue over it. Grace knows we are proud of her.”

Miriam nodded. Every teacher graded differently—some more harshly than others. Perhaps it wouldn’t be beneficial to confront Miss Bena over the paper.

“Want me to keep the
boppli
? She might be small, but she’s a
gut
helper in the barn.”

“Gabe Miller. Rachel is not even three months old and already you are trying to get her more used to the smells of the barn than the kitchen.”

Gabe smiled but didn’t deny it.

“I’d rather take her along. It will be
gut
to have her with us. She can cheer
mamm
up some.”

“Maybe it’s you that needs cheering.”

“
Ya
, maybe so.”

As Gabe handed her up, Rachel reached out, swatting at Miriam’s
kapp
strings. Miriam kissed her once, closing her eyes and breathing in her sweet powdery baby scent. Then she tucked her into the carrier on the floor of the buggy.

“I’ll come with you if you like.”

“Of course not. There’s little worse than a man in a doctor’s waiting room.”

Gabe pulled on his beard. “I believe I should feel insulted, but I don’t.”

“
Gut
. I expect to be home after lunch.”

“I’ll be watching for you. If the sun stays out, I could be in the west field by then.” He handed her the reins to Belle, and they set off at a nice easy trot.

An hour later, her mother was in the buggy beside her, baby Rachel tucked in the carrier at her feet, and they were headed toward town.

“You know your
dat
would have been happy to take me.”

“Would you rather have ridden with him?”

“No. He’s like a bull in an unfamiliar pen when he’s inside the doc’s office. He never knows whether he should wait out in the visitors’ area or come into the exam room with me. It’s all very awkward.”