“My mother’s choices aren’t for you to judge.” Mandy wasn’t about to admit to Sadie that she’d wondered the same.
Evident surprise flickered in Sadie’s eyes. “Sorry,” she whispered meekly.
“Now, getting back to the Blue Room—does the businessman from Baltimore still come for three weeks on the last day of November, like he used to?”
Betsy spoke. “Jah, he’s one of our solid regulars.”
Mandy snapped her fingers, trying to remember his name. “Gary, was it?”
“Gavin O’Connor,” Sadie said, laughing a little now. “But you’re close.”
Mandy asked to go over the names of the guests coming in the next month a second time to double-check dietary issues and other needs.
“By the way, Mrs. Dobbins and her husband are comin’ in a few weeks. Mrs. Dobbins can’t sleep on our feather pillows, so your Mamma always kept a foam one for her in the linen closet. It’s still there, last time I checked,” Sadie said.
“I definitely want to keep track of details like that,” Mandy said, jotting this down, as well. “And Jerome’s droppin’ by to have breakfast with me tomorrow. He wants to go over the current monthly budget then, too.”
From what Jerome had said, Mandy had gleaned that her other brothers weren’t so knowledgeable about the details of the B and B—nor, perhaps, as interested. Might be the reason Mamma didn’t name one of them the heir—they didn’t want the headache of running it.
“Sounds like Jerome. We usually don’t see much of your family. They’re busy with their own farms,” Betsy piped up, fidgeting with her black apron. “Arie and Josiah have always been the ones to help out.”
“Josiah’s handled whatever repairs are needed,” Sadie added, flipping through reservations to the month of April, when the pages were once more filled with names.
Josiah’s in charge of repairs?
Sadie closed the book and carried it back to the desk, then led the way into the kitchen. “Now let’s have a look at the weekend menu options. We’ll want a nice variety.”
“Remember, Arie bought groceries today,” Betsy said, pointing out that Arie evidently had a plan for that group of guests. “Maybe she left a note or two ’bout it. She usually has sticky notes all over the kitchen.”
Sounds like her, thought Mandy, trying her best not to second-guess having sent her sister on her way. I can’t run this place with someone I don’t trust. . . .
Sadie searched and found nothing, so she opened Mamma’s cupboard and reached for the famous recipe notebook.
“Maybe just go ahead and decide what you’d like to make for breakfast, based on the groceries on hand,” Mandy encouraged Sadie, pleased to see a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough in the fridge.
“Of course, your Mamma didn’t serve hot meals on the Lord’s Day.” Sadie turned to glance at her. “Will you continue that tradition?”
Betsy spoke before Mandy could. “Well, this B and B has been advertised as authentically Amish,” she said, catching Mandy’s eye. “You don’t mean to change that, do ya?”
“Not at all.” Mandy exhaled. Am I crazy to take this on?
An awkward moment passed before Betsy spoke again. “There’s never been any charge for guests stayin’ Sunday night, either,” Betsy reminded her, leaning against the long counter where Mandy had helped Mamma and Arie roll out dozens of pie crusts.
I could use the money, though, Mandy thought, knowing that every penny she earned could go toward meeting the goal of profitability. “Did my mother keep the books, or did Jerome?”
“Jerome,” Betsy and Sadie said in unison.
“So he must be the one paying taxes to the county.” Since the county used a portion of those taxes toward advertising, Mandy was all the more appreciative of her oldest brother’s help. Whatever keeps the inn booked.
Betsy excused herself to go outdoors to gather the afternoon eggs, leaving Mandy alone with Sadie.
“I think I can still make a moist and delicious sweet bread,” Mandy said, more to herself than to Sadie.
Sadie opened the apron drawer beneath the oven and put one on. “Better make a big batch so there’s plenty, considering there are three men in this next bunch of guests,” Sadie said.
“I’m glad you’re stayin’ on to help, at least for a couple more days,” Mandy said.
“I’ll make every minute count.” Sadie nodded toward the fridge. “You’ve gotta be hungry. There’s some sliced ham in there and goat cheese from the neighbors up the road.”
“Denki,” Mandy said, suddenly realizing she was famished, considering how long the day had already been.
My first day out of three hundred and sixty-five!
Suppertime was unlike any Mandy had ever experienced here. And afterward, she did up the dishes quickly, thinking how, for all of the years she’d lived in this house, it was the only time she had ever been alone here come sundown. Mandy wondered if God had willed it that no guests had reserved a room for this particular night, so she could have the house to herself and get her bearings before embarking on such a challenging journey.
She swept the kitchen with her gaze, landing on the old wall hanging Mamma had made with Arie Mae’s help. The verse had been one of their father's favorites. “‘Let the children first show piety at home,’” she began to read, tears threatening. “‘And to requite their parents; for that is good and acceptable before God.’”
“Please help me get through this year, Lord,” she whispered, still bewildered that she and not Arie was the one on whom the business of the B and B now depended.
And to think I fired my sister flat out!
Chapter
8
Mandy settled into her room after supper and tried to read her Bible by gaslight but gave up, feeling out of sorts. Restless, she wandered out to the kitchen with the large flashlight, wearing her mother’s white chenille bathrobe. There, she perused Sadie’s Saturday breakfast menu on the counter, then crept into the well-appointed breakfast room that had once been part of the kitchen. She stared at the spacious room replete with an antique corner cupboard and sideboard to match. Her father had made the long table that could be enlarged to three times its present size, accommodating up to sixteen people, if necessary. At the time, they’d used it for extended family gatherings, not knowing that Mamma would need such a table to supplement her income as a widow.
Shining the light on the table’s surface, Mandy was startled to see that Sadie or Betsy had changed out the placemats from earlier. These Mandy had sewn for her mother the first year they’d opened their home to overnight guests.
“She kept them,” Mandy murmured, setting the flashlight sideways on the table. She went around adjusting each wooden chair, centering it with the pretty red-and-yellow placemats. That done, she moved to the stone fireplace and stood there, feeling the weight of responsibility, like a heavy quilt falling over her shoulders.
After a moment, she picked up the flashlight and made her way through the kitchen and back to her room. She pulled back the handmade quilt and bedding beneath and slipped in, still wearing the bathrobe.
Just then, her cell phone rang, and picking it up, she realized she would have to recharge it overnight on the other side of the house. Recognizing the number, she answered, “Hello, Winnie.”
“I hope it’s not too late to call.”
“I’m heading to bed earlier than usual, so you caught me just in time. It’s been a really long day.”
“Are things going okay there?” Winnie asked, her voice a welcome sound.
Mandy said she was unpacked and getting accustomed to her former room again. “It feels odd bein’ back, to tell you the truth.”
“Well, you know the ropes. I’m sure it will come back quickly.”
Mandy smiled at that. “Say, it just occurred to me that I might like to hire someone to set up a website—at least a home page—to help bring in extra business during the slow winter months. I know you’ve done that sort o
f thing for some of your friends and business colleagues. What do you think?”
“Sure.” Winnie sounded delighted. “Will you be the one managing it?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought of that.” Mandy felt overwhelmed at the thought of adding one more thing to her to-do list. “Whether or not the site is interactive, I think it’d be wise to give the inn an online presence. Word of mouth is great, but it can’t hurt to attract some new customers.”
“Good thinking.”
They discussed the cost to set it up and what Winnie would minimally need from her—a good digital photo of the inn, as well as photos of the guest rooms.
“Do you want people to be able to make reservations online?” Winnie asked.
Mandy didn’t think so, suspecting Betsy, for one, would likely not approve. “It’s better if they call directly,” she said. “I’d like to just list the address and phone number.”
“Whatever’s most convenient for you.”
She thanked Winnie and promised to take photos tomorrow and send them. After all, the rooms were unoccupied and spotless, so the timing was perfect.
They talked about the fact that she needed to hire more help right away. “At least an exceptional cook.”
Winnie chuckled. “Yes, most definitely, since it’s a bed-and-breakfast, after all.”
“I can’t just hope to get the right person,” Mandy admitted.
“Do your brothers have any role at the inn?”
Mandy didn’t reveal that she had yet to see any of her brothers or their families. It’s only my first day back. “My oldest brother, Jerome, is coming for breakfast tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll discuss some things then.”
“You must be relieved that he’s involved,” Winnie added. “If I lived closer, I’d be glad to help do something for you.”
“You’re so kind.” She meant it, but she knew Winnie was very settled there in Scott City. “The website is a huge help.”
“Call anytime, okay?”
“Thanks so much, Winnie.”
“We’ll talk again once I get the site set up.”
They said good-bye and hung up, and Mandy smiled at how quickly Winnie had called to check on her. “A great friend,” she whispered as she went to find the charger for her phone in the top dresser drawer. She carried the phone and charger all the way across the house and plugged them into a wall outlet in the common room, wondering how much she’d be using her phone now. I’m going to be awfully busy.
When she returned to the bedroom, Mandy opened the blanket chest at the foot of the bed and piled on two more warm quilts, recalling how chilly it could be this time of year. In another day or so, when the temperatures plummeted, she’d be carrying buckets of coal in for the stove to get that going over in the small sitting room not far from her room. Thankfully, the rest of the house would be plenty warm for guests.
Turning off her flashlight, she got back into bed and lay there. She couldn’t help but remember the days when her family was in the other bedrooms, and how contented and safe she’d felt. Now all of those empty rooms made Mandy miss the ways things used to be, and she brought her knees up close to her chest and wept, missing Mamma. All those years before Mandy’s leaving, there was a real comfort in knowing Mamma was just in the next room reading her Bible, doing some tatting, or at this time of night, sleeping soundly.
Trina had pushed the speed limit to get to Gail Anderson’s that evening, looking forward to spending time with the kindhearted woman who’d recently told her, “I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.”
Gail needed extra attention as soon as Trina arrived, and she gave it willingly, relishing her role as caregiver. Tonight, though, when the dear woman was settled into bed, she surprised Trina by asking for a prayer.
Nodding, Trina closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Lord in heaven, I ask that you bring peace to Gail. May her rest be sweet, and may she wake up feeling renewed. Amen.”
“You are so good to me,” Gail whispered, smiling up at her from the bed pillow. “Thank you.”
Trina patted the woman’s wrinkled hand and then, making sure the night-light was on, rose to turn out the lamp before she slipped into the nearby sitting room. She’d brought along a book but decided to read it later if she had trouble falling asleep, instead reaching for a travel magazine one of Gail’s granddaughters must have left behind.
Paging through it, Trina kept her ears open for Gail’s feeble call while enjoying the quiet house. So unlike my former workplace, she thought, counting her blessings. Losing her job only months after Shawn’s passing had been upsetting, but she’d landed on her feet just fine.
A travel ad for mystery destination trips caught her eye. She perused the page, shaking her head. “Who’d be that crazy?” she murmured, dismissing the ad and turning the page to a woman’s captivating account of a week-long visit to the small island of Bora-Bora, where she stayed in a tiki hut over the water, swam daily in the shining lagoon, and climbed the rocky slopes of Mount Otemanu.
“Now, that sounds wonderful!” Trina said, going on to another account of an exotic overseas adventure.
Eventually, though, she flipped back to the ad, and curious about the concept of a mystery vacation, she looked up the agency online. Such an idea was somewhat intriguing if you were inclined to permit someone else to decide your destination. As if I could persuade myself to do that! she thought, having always made her own vacation plans.
Reading on, she discovered that the prospective traveler set the parameters for budget, travel dates, length of time, and any kinds of vacation spots that were no-nos.
Trina scrolled to the endorsements and chuckled at the comments. Nope, this was definitely not for someone who didn’t relish surprises. Not my cup of tea.
She set down her phone and finished looking through the magazine, then rose to check on Gail.
Chapter
9
Mandy was awakened by the bantam rooster before dawn the next day, and taking time to stretch, she knew this was her last morning with a somewhat relaxed schedule. Sitting up, she squinted into the dim room and got out of bed to reach for the light switch on the wall, then laughed at herself for having forgotten. She lit the gas lamp on the nightstand since the sun wouldn’t be up for a while yet.
Going down the hall to the bathroom, she washed up and dressed before brushing her long dark hair and pulling it back into a tidy bun.
She made the bed, then afterward sat on the only chair in the room, unaccustomed to how uncomfortable it was, and read her morning devotions, something she had been taught to do as a small child. In fact, both she and Arie had often spent a few minutes on such early mornings reading aloud to each other from the Good Book. The memories tugged at her heart, so much so that it was hard to keep her mind on what she was reading.
Once the sun rose, Mandy went outdoors and took pictures with her phone for Winnie, then returned inside to take advantage of the guest rooms being unoccupied and all made up pretty. She took numerous shots and various angles of each of the four rooms and promptly texted them and a brief description of each to Winnie. She’ll let me know if they aren’t adequate.
Mandy also sent Winnie seasonal rate information and the address and phone number for the inn, trusting her friend would contact her if she needed anything more to design the home page.
We’ll keep it simple, Mandy thought. Like the Plain life.
Jerome arrived in the horse-drawn two-wheel cart he’d always used to shuttle back and forth between relatives’ farms. Mandy noticed he let himself in the back way, just as he and the rest of their siblings always had, and she hurried to greet him.
He removed his black work coat and black felt hat first thing, hanging them on the wooden coat-tree he’d made years ago, and without saying a word, headed straight to the sink. He pulled up his sleeves and washed his hands vigorously before drying them on the kitchen towel lapped over the cupboard door below.
Putting his nose in the air,
he sniffed. “Somethin’ burning?”
“Oh!” Mandy hollered, rushing to the stove to turn off the gas and move the frying pan from the burner. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a kitchen to use, but I thought for sure I could make eggs over easy without a speck of trouble.” At least there were sticky buns, yogurt, and some red grapes . . . as well as toast and jam.
“Is there coffee?” Jerome asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. “You can’t burn that, jah?” He chuckled, setting the tone for their breakfast meeting.
“Watch me,” she joked, glad something might be to his liking as she poured the steaming coffee into a good-sized mug, remembering he took his black. She carried the mug over to the table and set it down in front of him.
“Might need to brush up on your cookin’, ain’t? The guests will be disappointed with eggs and toast, I’m sure you know.” He reached for the mug and took a sip. “Arie Mae can give ya pointers.”
“She could have,” Mandy said sheepishly.
“Was is letz do?”
Mandy sighed. “I fired her yesterday.”
“You did what?” His frown was fierce and he groaned, shaking his head. “That’s a mistake, Mandy.”
“I’m tellin’ ya straight out, she cannot work here—and it’s my decision to make, right?”
Jerome pressed his lips together. “Well, it ain’t smart, nor is it the Christian way. And you’ll have trouble replacing her, once the word’s out. Folks will think you’re ferhoodled.”
She had expected to be preached to, so she was surprised when he let it go with that and a disgusted shake of his head. Surely he knows something about our rift, Mandy thought.
“Did you two have a chance to start goin’ through Mamma’s clothing before you showed Arie Mae the door?” Jerome asked.
“Didn’t have time,” she said. “I’ll ponder what to do with the clothes,” she said, knowing they would typically be given away. Mandy scooped a good portion of peach yogurt into a dish and placed it on his plate next to two pieces of toast smothered with strawberry jam. “I don’t want you to go hungry.”
The Proving Page 5