Simple Amish Love 3-Book Collection

by Rachel Stoltzfus

  “And you’re saying your boss was very much like Mr. Carey? In what way?”

  “Personality, how he carries himself and how he deals with others. I saw the work of several Amish artisans that we both know and I’ll be contacting them over the next few weeks. I want to find out what their experiences with Mr. Carey have been. I don’t want you to lose this opportunity, but I think we both need to be forewarned. This way, you’re ready, just in case. And you can develop a strategy to protect yourself,” Jacob said. As he finished speaking, his heart was pounding so loudly he thought that Jenny must be able to hear its tri-hammer rhythm.

  “That’s reasonable. I would have been very upset if you’d told me not to work on these quilts. Instead, you’re just telling me to be prepared, just in case. Denki, Jacob.” The last two words were spoken softly and Jenny gazed at her beau through downcast eyes.

  Jacob couldn’t resist. He leaned over and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her cheek.

  “You’re special to me, Jenny.”

  ***

  Two days later, Jenny opened a letter from Ken Carey. Scanning the contents, she sat down heavily.

  “Mamm, I don’t believe this! Mr. Carey just wrote to me and he wants me to have my first quilt ready in one month, not two! I can’t do that!”

  “Why? Does he give you a reason?” asked Rebecca.

  “He’s having a big sale and he wants to feature my quilt in that sale. I can’t! It won’t be my best work, and I would hesitate to accept payment for shoddy work.”

  “What are you going to do? I know what you need to do, but the decision is yours,” Rebecca said.

  “I’m writing back to him and telling him it’s impossible. I’m just about to finish the piecework.”

  “Good. You do know he may react . . . strongly, right?”

  “Ya. If he wants quality work, he’ll wait. Period. I want to write this letter and get it into tomorrow’s mail.”

  Jenny’s letter to Ken explained that she needed every day of the four months she had quoted to him. She also explained she had other responsibilities, other than working on the quilts. Sealing her response in an envelope, she placed a stamp on it and put it with other outgoing mail, thinking nothing of her response.

  Several days later, she was startled by a loud knocking at the front door after dinner dishes had been washed. Hurrying to open it, she was surprised to see Ken standing on the front porch. His face was red and wore a deep glower.

  “Mr. Carey . . .”

  “What do you mean, telling me that you won’t have that quilt ready for my sale? We have a deal! You sew these babies for me, I sell them for you! You wouldn’t have an outlet, other than the odd tourist that passes through here, if it wasn’t for me!” Ken was hollering in full voice.

  Jenny, unprepared for his onslaught, took several steps back. She bumped into Jacob, who had just come running into the living room. Close behind him, her parents had also come running, upset by the yelling of the Englisher.

  Jenny had never wanted to take advantage of a “running-around time.” Therefore, she was unable to formulate a response that would have helped her defend herself.

  Jacob placed both hands protectively on Jenny’s shoulders. Jenny’s parents stood on either side of Jacob, looking silently at Mr. Carey.

  “Mr. Carey, Jenny can certainly speed up how quickly she finishes her quilts so you have one of them for your shop. But you are going to sacrifice quality for speed. If you want quality, you’ll just have to exercise patience and wait. It’s your choice,” Jacob said quietly.

  Ken, faced with four solemn faces, retreated hastily, apologizing profusely.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I . . . I didn’t know that it would take every minute of that time frame you gave to me. I do want a high-quality item. Forget my request – I’ll just have the sale with the stock I have on hand. Please, forgive me.” Before anyone could speak, he turned quickly and was out the front door and running to his car.

  The next day, Jenny hitched the horse to the family’s buggy and drove to visit Annie.

  “Annie, I’m making two quilts for this Englisher from Philadelphia, but now I’m beginning to regret my decision. You went on your rumspringe. Do you have some ideas on how I can deal with him?” She detailed some of his actions for Annie.

  “First, do you have a written contract that both of you have signed?” asked Annie.

  “Yes, thank the Lord. Mamm suggested that. Jacob went to his shop and let him know he’d better be honest in his dealings with me,” Jenny said.

  “You are fortunate to have them protecting you. In all of your dealings, you must be firm. It sounds like you need to make him respect your professional and personal boundaries. Just let him know he can only go so far before you consider it to be intrusive, whatever he does. Jenny, you need to protect yourself!”

  On her way home, Jenny pondered Annie’s advice. She had unknowingly zeroed in on Jenny’s need to protect herself – Jenny had begun to fear the businessman slightly because of his temper and willingness to use his big voice.

  ***

  Several weeks later, Jenny shut the door of the house, trying not to slam it. Ken Carey had just left after “dropping by to check on your progress.” She was uncharacteristically quiet at dinnertime, puzzling with how to deal with the pushy, persistent businessman.

  “Daed, mamm, I need your help with Mr. Carey. He’s coming here every week now – and his visits seem to always be on Wednesdays. He’s slowing me down! I need to finish these quilts and get them to him, but he’s slowing me down!”

  “I think you need more help than your daed and I can give you. I have an idea, but it will involve other Peace Landing artisans and crafters. We can provide moral support and let him know that the work you do is your livelihood,” said Rebecca.

  In succeeding weeks, Ken Carey confronted a crafting room full of kapped women, working on their own quilts and needlepoint work. Mark Stoltzfus’ mother was one of those women, and she told Mark what had begun happening. Another Peace Landing community member went to Deacon Bontrager and told him what was happening to Jenny. The deacon had also spent some time living and working among Englishers. He was concerned about the situation, so he spoke to the church’s bishop, who decided it was high time that all the ministers should meet and talk to Ken Carey.

  The next Wednesday afternoon, when Ken drove up to the King home, he saw several soberly dressed and bearded men in straw hats and black coats standing on the front porch. As he got out of his Mercedes, the men all turned their attention to him. Ken didn’t get a good feeling from this development, so he decided to open his trunk and take his briefcase out to make it clear that his meeting with Jenny was business only.

  “Mr. Carey? Deacon Bontrager. We are the bishop, deacon and ministers of the Peace Landing church. You’ve made arrangements to buy two quilts from Miss King. She’s inside right now, working hard on your quilt, but your weekly visits are slowing her progress. She knows what she needs to do to finish the quilts you have commissioned from her, and she’s doing this work every day – except for the Sabbath. Can you tell me if you have scheduled a meeting with Miss King?”

  “Well, no. Because I want to buy these quilts for my shop, I’m maintaining an official interest in them. I want to make sure that her work is of high quality,” Ken said quietly.

  “I haven’t seen you come to Peace Landing before. Do you have other Peace Landing crafters and artisans selling their work to you?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do, actually.” Ken said, puffing out his chest.

  “Do you visit these other artisans? Or only Miss King?”

  Ken was caught. Feeling his anger slowly growing, he shook his head. “No, I visit only Miss King. Because she’s a new artisan to me, I want to make sure that what I’m paying for is of the highest quality,” he said.

  “It isn’t necessary, Mr. Carey. Other artisans are inside the King house, working on their items. Miss King is working very hard on the quilt she i
s making for you. You’ve said you needed it earlier, yet, by coming here every week, you’re holding her progress back. I will let her know you came here today. For now, why don’t you come back only when she has a finished product to sell to you?” asked the deacon.

  “I just need to . . .” Ken tried to say.

  “She asked me to tell you that she is sewing the filling to the piecework today. Because of the quilt’s size, she has to take her time. She needs every minute of that time so she can deliver a quilt to you by the end of April,” the deacon said.

  “Well . . . thank you. If you’ll let her know I came by . . . “Ken said, backing up. In his car, he tossed his briefcase against the passenger door, not caring that the corner hit the door panel. He stoked his anger, thinking. After several minutes, he smiled thinly and started his car. He had decided he would be shorting Jenny what she was contractually owed – instead of paying her the agreed-upon $2,000, he would only pay her $750, which would be barely enough to replenish her supplies. He had conveniently forgotten that, per the contract and verbal agreement he had made with Jenny, she was due the full $2,000. Driving off, he contemplated the sense of satisfaction and vindication he would get upon delivering an envelope that would be short over $1,000.

  CHAPTER SIX

  By mid-April, Jenny had just finished the first quilt she had agreed to make for Ken Carey. After writing a letter to him, she mailed it to him and got started on the second quilt, even though she had misgivings about continuing to work with him. I agreed to make these quilts and I wrote up the contract. I will finish this second quilt and, with God’s help, come to a decision about whether I’m supposed to continue working with him.

  She thought back several weeks to the time when Ken had begun driving to Peace Landing once a week to “check” on the progress of the quilt. Her mamm’s friends, the ministers, bishop, and deacon of the community church had showed up at her parents’ house to intervene and provide a buffer between her and Ken. Since that time, he had limited his contact to occasional letters, asking for an update on her progress, which Jenny had provided. A few days later, she received a response in the mail. Ken planned to be in Peace Landing the next Friday to pick the quilt up and pay her for her work.

  As promised, Ken drove up to the house at noon. Smiling effusively, he shook Jennie’s and her parents’ hands.

  “I can’t wait to see that quilt! I bet it looks beautiful, from what I’ve seen of your other work, Miss King,” said Ken.

  Jenny gave Ken a small smile and said, “I hope you’ll like my work. I have also started on the second quilt. If you’ll come this way, I have it spread out for your inspection.” As she passed the kitchen, she sent up a quick prayer of gratitude that Jacob had asked to be present when Ken came to the house. He was waiting in the quilting room, and as Ken’s gaze fell on him, he returned the older man’s glare.

  “Mr. Carey, here is the quilt. I think you’ll find it to your liking,” Jenny said as she gestured toward the colorful quilt, which had been spread over two tall frames.

  Ken walked right up to the quilt and inspected the handiwork closely. He looked at the seams, stitching and the quilting design that Rebecca had painstakingly stitched on the top of the quilt. He lifted one corner of the quilt and looked at the backing, ensuring that its color complemented the colors Jenny had chosen for the piecework side.

  “Hmmm, yes. Very well done. And it will sell for a very good price – I have several customers who would pay top dollar for a genuine Amish quilt. Here is your payment,” said Ken, handing Jenny a long, sealed envelope. Reaching up, he unhooked the quilt from the tops of the frames and folded it as he left the room.

  Jacob moved forward from the corner of the quilting room.

  “Mr. Carey, if you would, please wait a few minutes. Jenny, check to see how much you’ve been paid, please.”

  She ripped the envelope open, finding a stack of bills. Removing them, she counted.

  “Mr. Carey, this is only $750. We had agreed upon $2,000. This is short by . . . $1,250.”

  “Mr. Carey, do you care to explain why you underpaid Jenny? She worked very hard on that quilt,” said Jacob calmly. He knew that his daed, as well as Jenny’s, were standing just outside the front door. Rebecca King stood right behind Jenny’s shoulder, looking quizzically at Ken.

  Ken, not knowing that Jenny had reinforcements standing outside, attempted to leave with the quilt. He stopped only when Jacob took a long sideways step and blocked the exit to the living room.

  “Well, she forfeited the rest of the payment when she refused to finish my quilt by the earlier date I had requested! She knew she was forfeiting payment.”

  “Jenny, do you have your copy of the contract? I’d like to read it again,” Jacob said.

  Jenny pulled the handwritten contract from a binder sitting on a shelf, handing it to Jacob.

  Jacob quickly read through the contract.

  “Mr. Carey, nowhere in this contract does it say that she forfeits payment for not delivering her work to you at an earlier date. As I recall, you sent her a letter and asked her to rush her work so you could feature it at a sale you had planned. She told you she couldn’t do that without sacrificing quality. You agreed to that, in front of me, and in front of Jenny’s daed. Remember?”

  By now, the two fathers had come into the quilting room. They had been alerted to a possible problem because of how long it was taking for Ken to leave. They both crossed their arms over their muscular chests as they waited for Ken’s response. Looking at him, they waited patiently.

  Ken looked from one implacable face to the others. Sighing, he knew he’d been outsmarted.

  “Okay, I’ll pay the remainder in the kitchen,” he growled.

  John King walked to the front door while Jacob and his daed flanked Ken on his way to the kitchen. Setting the quilt down on the counter, he pulled his wallet out of his rear pocket and counted out another $1,250, slapping it on the kitchen counter.

  Jenny scooped the pile of bills up, handed them to her mother and looked back at Ken.

  “Mr. Carey, I can’t continue to do work for you if you’re going to pressure me to do sloppy work or if you’re going to shortchange me on the agreed-upon payment. I won’t be finishing that second quilt,” she said firmly.

  Ken realized that he had outsmarted even himself in trying to cheat Jenny. He frowned deeply only because he knew he’d been caught at his attempts at manipulation, not because he was sorry for trying to do so. He also realized he’d encountered a very strong young woman who wasn’t afraid to stick to her convictions, even if it meant losing a source of considerable income. He sighed and looked at Jenny.

  “Miss King, I am very sorry. I underestimated you and your ability to stick to your convictions. You’re a very strong young woman. I’d like you to reconsider your decision – if you’ll continue to make that second quilt, I’ll respect the time frame you gave me, and I’ll pay you the full amount owed for that quilt when it’s done,” he said. Clearly, he thought his mollifying words would induce Jenny to change her mind right away, so he was surprised again when she shook her head.

  “Mr. Carey, I really don’t want to make any more quilts for you. You tried to rush me, and when that didn’t work, you started coming here every week to, I don’t know, rush me along. It took the community to get you to back off. Then, today, you tried to underpay me by more than half of the amount we’d agreed upon – in writing – for this quilt. Right now, I’d just as soon sell quilts to the Englishers who come through, touring Amish country. I will think about your request – but I need time to think and pray about it. When I come to a decision, I’ll send a letter to you – and no amount of coming here and pressuring me will get me to change my mind!” She pointed a finger at him as she said the last part.

  Ken was shaken by her refusal to give in to the easy money he offered her. Looking at Jacob, Rebecca, John King and Mr. Lapp, he knew he could do nothing more than wait for her decision.

&
nbsp; “Miss King, I apologize again. Clearly, I don’t understand how you operate – I’m used to running things my way, and it appears that didn’t work here . . .”

  “I will give your request more thought, Mr. Carey. I don’t have a decision for you now, but, at this point, I don’t want to proceed. I’ll send my decision in a letter. I may not have spent time in the city, but I know how to treat people honestly.”

  Jenny’s parents and Mr. Lapp gestured to the front door, indicating to Ken that he should leave. Gathering up his quilt, he followed them outside, feeling defeated by the goodness they demonstrated. Back in his shop in Philadelphia, he called his business partner, Mara Williams.

  “She says she doesn’t want to make that second quilt for me. Come to the store, Mara. She does beautiful work,” Ken said.

  “Oh, Ken, don’t tell me! You did it again – you attempted to ride roughshod over a Plain woman and you were set back in your attempt, just by their goodness, weren’t you?”

  Ken attempted a laugh. “Yeah. It would seem so . . .”

  Mara released a long sigh. “I’m on my way. Give me about forty-five minutes.”

  Less than one hour later, Mara swept into the store. Dressed in simple designer clothing, her gleaming white hair was simply arranged. Her virtually unlined face expressed love of life and youth. Swinging her handbag off her shoulder, she gestured to Ken that they should talk behind closed doors.

  Ken gulped, knowing he was in for one of Mara’s patented lectures. Telling the store’s manager to push the sales items, he disappeared to the back of the store with Mara.