As Abram passed her to return to the kitchen, she squirted the counter and wiped it down, pretending she hadn’t seen the interaction. But they both knew she had.
It was easy to understand Quill coming to the café if he wanted to speak to Ariana. It wasn’t as if he could stop by the house. But Skylar liked that, regardless of how taboo contact with Quill was supposed to be, her quiet, hardworking brother had just talked to and passed a note to him. Skylar was sure the note was from Ariana. It was fascinating to watch how a kindhearted group of siblings, who were innocents in many ways, could band together to defy the Old Ways, the ministers, and their parents in the name of love and loyalty.
Jax’s voice rumbled through the café as he laughed about something, causing different questions to come to mind. If he had brought those flowers for her, was he ready to get past the uncomfortable conversation they’d had last week? Thus far they’d swept it under the rug and kept things cordial.
Had she just trampled his effort to smooth things over between them?
Ariana opened the door to the phone shanty and went inside. She had turned off her cell and put it away in order to be fair to Rudy, at least while she pondered what to do. He was pleased she’d turned off the phone but frustrated she hadn’t given it to him.
He didn’t approve of her coming here to call her dad either, and he’d be angry if he knew why she was calling him. Was she wrong?
Maybe.
Maybe very wrong, but she didn’t know what else to do. If the café went under, she’d never be able to help her parents buy one new cow, let alone several.
To that end she’d made a decision, and she lifted the phone from its cradle and dialed. Nicholas didn’t answer, so she left a message and hung up. She doubted if he’d recognize this number. When he got her voice mail, he’d call her.
Her heart was bruised and battered. With the exception of some of her siblings, everyone seemed displeased with her, and a majority of them were furious. Too many acted as if she needed to be stoned—not to death, mind you. That would be wrong. But stoned until their anger and fear subsided and she was willing to submit.
The phone rang, and Nicholas’s number showed up on caller ID. She grabbed the receiver. “Hey.”
“Hi, Ari. Where are you?”
“Phone shanty. I turned off my cell for a bit, as a compromise for Rudy.”
“Sounds like the Ariana I’ve come to know and love—may not agree but knows how to sacrifice for the betterment of others. How are you holding up?”
“Confused, mostly. Unsure where to give in. Unsure where right ends and wrong begins.”
“And your young man. Is he confused too?”
Thoughts of Rudy grieved her. She loved him, and he loved her, but he didn’t understand how she felt or why. He understood how the ministers, her Daed, and the community felt.
“He’s confused by me and sure about everything else. I don’t blame him. I get where he’s coming from and why. I wrestle with concrete issues, like the finances of the café, and abstract issues of where the lines are concerning moral behavior. But Rudy’s interest lies solely in us talking about getting married.” Of late she felt like she was a cow and he had a prodder, trying to rush her into the corral that led straight to the altar. “If I’m still unclear who I am by spring, how can I begin instruction?”
Nicholas was silent.
“Sorry.” Ariana rolled her eyes, so weary of these new thoughts. “There isn’t anyone I can talk to about this.”
“Needing someone to talk to is why people usually end up in groups with others who are like-minded.”
“I don’t have a group. I’m not sure a group exists that I’d fit with anymore. And I feel like a deceiver, never really being honest and never really lying.”
“ ‘This above all—to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.’ William Shakespeare.”
The beauty and insight of the words grabbed her heart. “Say that again.” She tore a page out of an old spiral notebook that was left there for anyone to use. She picked up a pen and wrote it down as he repeated it slowly.
To thine own self be true…
Whenever she thought she knew something about herself that was true, she faced such a backlash that she melted into a puddle of confusion.
“I didn’t mean to get into all of that and be warm and friendly, because the truth is that I called to ask a mammoth favor.”
Nicholas chuckled. “I like you, kiddo. I really do. What’s up?”
“I need to borrow money. Just a loan.”
“How much?”
“A lot. There are four full-time employees who’ve worked six days a week and a lot of overtime and two part-time employees. None have received a full paycheck. It seems they decided to donate their pay to cover the medical bills of a young woman with cystic fibrosis and let me figure out the rest when I got here.”
“How much do you owe them?”
“If I deduct two thousand from each person’s pay to cover the medical bills, I owe thirty thousand in back pay, plus taxes. And that’s if I stick to paying minimum wage.” She rubbed her forehead. “I need twenty thousand dollars.”
“I’d spend far more than that in a year if you were in a major university, so that’s not an issue.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re a twenty-year-old business owner. Nothing is as hard to get on its feet as a small business, and you weren’t there to pour time and energy into it.”
“The café is bringing in good money, and I know it can do even better if we expand our menu and the hours. Not being allowed to go there has given me time to research and set goals. If we start serving desserts, selling cake by the slice, and some other things, I think we could clear about fifty thousand next year after overhead and taxes.”
“Seriously?”
“Ya, the customer base is there, and I know we can build on it.”
“You’ll have to hire more people.”
“Definitely. There’s no shortage of Amish teen girls needing a job between graduating from the eighth grade and getting married five to seven years later. We’ll do shifts, and those who’ve been working can manage those coming in and make more money for doing so. In a year I could start buying cattle for Daed.”
“That’s your goal, to buy cows?”
She explained.
“But why would you want to?”
“Because love gives.” She didn’t know how to explain better than that. Since she was a little girl, her heart had longed to give her Daed a financial boost. But she was no saint. Not only was she talking to Nicholas against everyone’s wishes, but she would go to the café to pass out paychecks and have a meeting. Daed would just have to deal with it. “I can pay three hundred a month until the loan is covered.”
“Ari, I’m not keen on this being a loan. If love gives, then let me give this.”
“Three hundred a month until it’s paid.”
“Could we shelve that part of the deal until later, please?”
She would be in so much trouble if the ministers found out what she was doing. At least if it were a loan, it might be acceptable. “I guess I could add it to my long list of things to think about. But I also need financial and business-meeting advice.”
“I’ll try to answer your questions, and if I don’t know, I’ll check with my financial advisor.”
Ariana asked a dozen questions about the finances of the café and how to handle various situations. She took notes, snatching more paper from the notebook, but most of his counsel would easily stick with her. “Thank you.”
“You’re actually quite good at this. I can tell by your questions and your answers to my questions. If you have your account number, I’ll move the money there now.”
Abram and Susie had given up their jobs to get the café running while she was gone. Everyone who’d worked at the café shouldn’t have to go one more week without full pay. With five t
housand in cash missing, there wasn’t enough money to pay the bills over the next few months if she didn’t get a loan.
“Skylar, with all her ideas and her push for coffee machines and a generator, was a godsend…as far as the café goes. I wouldn’t have thought of or known how to do all she suggested.”
“Good. She’s smart as a whip, always has been.”
“If the church ministers learn I’m asking you for money, I’ll be in even worse trouble.”
“Did you know that the word Protestant comes from the word protest? Starting in the sixteenth century, people were protesting the Catholic church. The Protestants felt it was their God-given right to follow their hearts as God directed rather than having to do as the church dictated. The Catholic church would excommunicate people and condemn them to hell. I find it interesting that the Amish fled Europe in great part due to the persecution of the Catholic church, only to resettle in a free country and create new restrictions that keep people from being able to follow their hearts for fear of excommunication.”
“Nicholas.”
“Yeah?”
“Have you tried researching all the good that’s been done by those same faiths?”
“Some. Anyway, moving on. I’d be glad to help Skylar in a similar way…when she’s no longer at risk of using it for drugs.”
“She’ll have money once I pay her, about nine thousand dollars after taxes.”
“That’s a little scary, but she’s a working adult. All we can do is hope for the best.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate this. I need to go. Okay?” She felt like a selfish teen, asking for money and then saying good-bye. “We’ll talk soon.”
She understood the need to put space between Quill and her. Rudy needed that of her, and she would give it. But was it fair for anyone to tell her she had to give up contact with her Englisch family?
Abram waved as the final pair of customers exited Brennemans’ Perks. “Thank you for coming. Have a good day!”
“You too.” The young man closed the door behind him and went down the sidewalk talking to his female companion.
Abram flipped the sign on the front door to Closed. While he’d been cleaning tables for the two o’clock Saturday closing, he couldn’t help but notice how the couple’s words had flowed easily between them, punctuated by laughter and demure looks over their coffee mugs.
He wanted that. Maybe he shouldn’t, since quiet awkwardness had defined most of his life, but he did. Not with just anyone, though. With Cilla. Over the last five months as he’d come to know her better and leaned on her for advice, he’d discovered he could open up with her in ways he’d never imagined doing with anyone except the person he’d believed was his twin, the one he’d grown up with. Strangely, it was the predicament of learning Ariana had been swapped at birth that caused Abram to begin going to Cilla’s house to talk.
Abram took the bin with its few dirty dishes into the kitchen.
“Whatcha got there?” Susie was putting on her coat.
“Two mugs, one plate, and two spoons.”
“It was a hectic Saturday, and I’m beat. Just fill the bin with hot, sudsy water, and I’ll wash them first thing Monday.”
That plan sounded good.
The back door swung open. “Hallo?” Ariana called.
“She’s here in her café!” Susie screamed. “Wilkum!”
Susie and Martha about knocked her over, book bag and all, and Abram steadied his sisters before wrapping them in a group hug.
“Great,” Skylar said. “Another Amish tradition I’m not familiar with. Who knew the Amish did their own version of huddle and squeal?”
Abram stood straight, and his sisters peeled outward, like a flower opening.
Skylar saw Ariana, and her eyebrows furrowed a bit. “Oh. Makes sense now. Carry on.” Skylar went behind the counter near the register, carrying the box of gourmet coffee beans she’d found in the loft after thirty minutes of searching for it.
“I come bearing good news.” Ariana smiled and held up the old book bag. “I have an envelope with a check for each of you, back pay for all your work. But could we sit and talk first?”
“Sure.” Susie beamed. “You’re here.”
Ariana grinned and went toward the dining area. Abram helped her scoot several tables together. She sat and pulled out the ledgers, papers, and a stack of envelopes. Abram, Susie, and Martha took a spot at the table.
Cilla remained standing. “I’m glad you’re finally here, Ari.”
“Denki. And I’m very grateful you and your sister helped out as much as you did.”
“We were glad to do it. I should go now so you guys can talk.”
“Could you stay for a few minutes? I have a couple of questions.” She peered around Cilla. “Skylar, you too, please.”
Skylar shoved the box aside, looking annoyed, but she came from behind the counter and took a seat.
Ariana picked up the envelopes and tapped the edge of the stack on the table. “This money can’t begin to cover all I owe you. My gratitude runs deep.” She set down the envelopes. “It took me a while to get the books straight.”
Susie laughed. “I bet. We made and spent money and kept shoving the receipts in a pile for you to figure out.”
“That was fine. It’s given me something to work on since I got home. But there is a bit of money still unaccounted for. We have several weeks of receipts tallied for the café, but no deposit was made. It’s not a big deal, but I thought maybe we could brainstorm what might have happened to it. Is there a safety box with petty cash?”
Cilla pressed her hands down her apron. “Money was spent for me. Could it be that?”
“All of that balances, Cilla, and it was money well spent. The only thing anyone in this room wishes is that it had been done for you sooner.”
Cilla relaxed against her chair. “Denki.”
Abram stood. “I don’t think it’s possible to still have a deposit here, let alone several.” He went into the kitchen.
“He’s looking in the crisper,” Susie said. “We put the money in a bank bag and keep it there.”
Ariana chuckled. “Gives new meaning to cold, hard cash, doesn’t it?”
“Nothing is there,” Abram called out and returned to the table. “We made one deposit each week before noon on Saturday.”
“Sounds like a good system. You said we.”
“We took turns. Whoever had time carried the deposit to the bank.”
“Does anyone remember anything unusual happening?”
“Did you talk to the bank?” Skylar asked.
“I did. We went over everything.”
“You’re being supernice,” Skylar said. “And I can hear Dad’s—sorry, Nicholas’s—words and voice in yours. But the bottom line is you think someone stole it. And by someone, I mean me.”
“That’s not true,” Ariana said. “I think money is missing, and it would help if we could figure out what happened to it so we can put it in the bank.”
“How much is missing?” Martha asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not here to—”
“Oh, I think you are,” Skylar snapped. “You just don’t want anyone to realize what you’re actually saying.”
Ariana separated the envelopes, placing each on the table and never looking up. “I hear Nicholas’s words and voice in yours, projecting your thoughts on me as if they’re mine. I can assure you that wasn’t how I felt, but since your conscience is so quick to accuse me of accusing you, I do wonder why that is.”
“Take it back.” Skylar stood up fast, sounding like an angry school kid. “Or I’ll drag you out of your café by that silky blond hair of yours.”
Abram started to speak to Skylar, but Ariana raised her hand slightly.
Seeming as calm as a sleeping baby, Ariana looked at Skylar. “You have no idea how much I appreciate your hard work and inventive ideas. I see you as an asset.”
“I didn’t do any of it for you.”
“You are so full of it—from your fake gratitude to your ‘it’s a fight I won’t lose.’ ”
Ariana’s face grew taut. “While you had a lifetime of Mom chauffeuring you from one cushy event to the next, going to movies, eating out, and taking every artsy lesson that suited you, I was working every muscle in my body helping to put food on the table. And since you really don’t want to be here…” Ariana slid an envelope with Skylar’s name on it across the tables to rest in front of her, and then Ariana turned her attention to Susie, Martha, and Abram. “Any ideas?”
Skylar folded her arms. “You can’t come into this café for the first time in months and tell me to leave.” She sat.
Despite Skylar’s words Abram saw the anger drain from her. She seemed in the midst of a revelation of some type, but he didn’t think it was the fact that Ariana would fight her and win in short order. Something else, something puzzling, registered in Skylar’s eyes.
The conversation about the money started again, but no one had any ideas about what could’ve happened.
Cilla tapped the table. “I need to go.”
“Sure.” Ariana pushed an envelope toward her. “If you think of anything, even something silly that might have happened, let us know, okay?”
“I don’t feel right about taking this. I told Abram I was volunteering my time. Then Abram—all of you—paid for my medical bills.”
“What’s in there is yours,” Ariana said. “It’s less than the others because you worked fewer hours, and I deducted accordingly for medical things.”
Ariana did what? Abram didn’t want her medical bills deducted.
Cilla grinned. “Denki.” She grabbed her coat and went out the back door.
“How much did you deduct from her pay?” Abram asked.
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