“We can go upstairs after we finish eating and show you all the rooms you could choose from!” Ruby said brightly. “If Christine’s or Mattie’s apartments—or Maria’s—aren’t to your liking, we have several other rooms that can be fixed up the way you want them. It would be so gut to have you here amongst us, Frances!”
The eager expressions on the five faces around the table nearly brought Frances to tears. “Oh my,” she whispered. “Truth be told, I’ve considered moving in—I’d come in a heartbeat, but I’m not sure I could afford any rent until my house sells. And we have to have new folks move to Promise Lodge for that to happen.”
“Maybe Harley and Minerva would buy it,” Laura speculated aloud. “Then, if things work out between you and Preacher Marlin, you could move into his house!”
Soft laughter erupted around the table as Phoebe elbowed her younger sister. “It’s too soon after Bishop Floyd’s passing to be playing matchmaker,” she warned Laura softly. “Even if we all agree that Marlin’s awfully nice—”
“And sorta cute, for a guy his age,” Laura added. She smiled kindly at Frances. “I didn’t mean to be a smart-aleck. I just want you to be happy.”
“We all do,” Irene agreed. “I can’t speak for Rosetta, but under the circumstances, I bet she’d let you move in without paying, until you could afford to.”
“Or she might think of ways you could work around the lodge in exchange for your apartment,” Beulah said. “Now that she lives on the hill with Truman, she might be happy to let somebody else oversee the day-to-day upkeep.”
As she got caught up in the excitement these ladies were generating on her behalf, Frances’s pulse accelerated. She couldn’t wait to go upstairs and look around. If she moved into an apartment, she’d have a lot of furniture and belongings she would no longer need. And if she found a way to sell those things, she’d have several months’ rent....
“This brings up an interesting point,” Irene said in a pensive tone. “What if we started a fund for ladies who come to Promise Lodge and need help with rent money? Sure, your church has probably established an aid fund for when residents have a lot of medical bills, or their house burns down, but what about a cash reserve just for unattached gals who might need to stay here for a while?”
“Maria was a case in point,” Beulah remarked. “She wasn’t the best business manager, but she was only in her twenties and supporting a younger sister—didn’t have any family to fall back on. It could happen to any of us.”
“I think that’s a fabulous idea,” Ruby said, scraping up the last of her gravy-saturated corn bread with the tines of her fork. “A lot of our businesses earn enough that we could donate, say, five percent of our profits. As long as it’s voluntary, I suspect Rosetta and her sisters would be in favor of such a fund—”
“Because it goes along with the very reason they moved to Promise Lodge,” Phoebe put in eagerly. “I’m willing to donate to that fund from the get-go of our new pie shop! How about you, partner?”
“I’m in!” Irene replied. “Plain women have always stashed their egg money or baking money in a coffee can to cover special gifts or unforeseen family emergencies.”
“Let’s call it the Coffee Can Fund! I’ll even donate retroactively from what we’ve earned at our cheese factory,” Beulah crowed. “Since it’s your idea, Irene, I nominate you to manage it for us. I feel really gut about having an organized way to help our friends over a rough spot.”
“Hear, hear!” Phoebe said as she smacked the table. “I say we celebrate our idea with pie—and you get first choice, Frances.”
Frances didn’t know what to say. In the blink of an eye, just because she’d mentioned being short of rent money, these friends had devised a fund to cover such a need—for her, but also for other women who might find themselves in desperate circumstances.
“You’re amazing—every last one of you,” she murmured as she looked at the glowing faces around the table. “I’m proud to call you my friends, and I’d be pleased to live here amongst you.”
“Gut, it’s settled!” Ruby said. “We’ll be happy to have you for a housemate.”
Frances couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so excited. She chose a slice of red raspberry pie and passed the plate to Laura. By the time they’d all finished second slices of pie, she felt stuffed—but emotionally full, as well. Phoebe and her sister volunteered to clear the table and do the dishes, so the Kuhns and Irene took Frances upstairs to look at apartments.
“When I saw the view from Rosetta’s corner apartment at the front of the building, I snapped it up,” Irene said as she swung open her door. “I don’t have all my stuff in place yet, but you’re welcome to look around, Frances.”
“When the Bender sisters took over the lodge, all the rooms were for individual campers, but we’ve had some modifications made,” Beulah explained. “Most of us have combined a couple of the rooms—”
“And you couldn’t ask for better workmanship than you get from Amos, Monroe, Marlin, and our younger fellows,” Ruby put in.
Frances’s first thought was that downsizing from a whole house to a couple of rooms would be a major adjustment. And yet, as she went from Irene’s apartment into the ones Christine and Mattie had recently vacated, she felt ready to rethink the housing lifestyle she’d known all her life. “Why, it won’t take but fifteen minutes to clean these places!” she remarked.
“I think that’s what I’ll like best about living here,” Irene said with a big smile. “That, and the fact that I have a view of my old house—and so many trees around the lodge to shade the place in the summer.”
When Frances stepped into the rooms that had belonged to young Maria, she did a double take. “Oh my—these pink walls with the paint that gets lighter toward the ceiling would take some getting used to.”
“Wait till you see the sky-blue bedroom ceiling with the clouds,” Beulah said with a chuckle. “But it’s only paint. Easy to change.”
“I suspect Gloria would really like this apartment, though,” Frances said as she peered into the other rooms. As they continued around the U-shaped hallway, she noted that some of the rooms were made up with beds and chairs, ready for guests—or ready for her to stay in while she decided which furnishings to bring with her. The empty rooms were freshly painted and some of them overlooked the front lawn, the cabins, and had a view of the Helmuths’ new landscaping nursery.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Frances said as they descended the stairs. “I’ll go home and tell Gloria about our move right now. We might be back this afternoon so she can choose a place she likes.”
“I’d see no problem with her having a room or apartment of her own so you could have a separate place,” Beulah said. “She’s of an age where sharing two rooms with her mamm might feel a bit cramped. The Hershberger girls did that.”
As Frances walked through the lobby and out onto the lodge’s big wraparound porch, she already felt at home. She inhaled the scent of the lilac bushes that were in full bloom out by the road, grateful that such an opportunity had opened for her just when she needed it. Her short walk back to the house gave her time to think about what she’d say to Gloria—who, at twenty-three, would probably adjust to new surroundings a lot faster than Frances would.
It’ll be just the thing to help you move forward now that Floyd’s not around to maintain the house, she told herself as she approached the big ivory-colored home they’d moved into less than a year ago. You’ll be so much happier having friends your age and of like mind to spend your time with.
When she entered the front room, Frances realized she’d have some trouble parting with the big walnut hutch that had been her mother’s, not to mention the lovely dishes and the bone china cups and saucers she’d received for birthdays when she’d been young. But she could take her time deciding what to do with the roomfuls of pieces that had furnished her married life. It would all work out.
She found Gloria upstairs in h
er room, absently staring out her window. When her daughter turned, Frances could tell she was upset. “What’s happened, dear?” she asked softly. “Tell me what’s wrong, and then we’ll talk about the big decision I’ve made.”
One of Gloria’s eyebrows arched. “The way Uncle Lester tells it, you’ve decided not to have anything to do with him,” she snapped. “He said you were cozying up to Preacher Marlin, already so sweet on him that you’ll marry him as soon as he asks you!”
Frances nearly choked. Lester had obviously been here stirring up the pot in her absence. “I told your uncle I wouldn’t marry him—because it’s not the right thing for me to do, and because he wants to marry me for all the wrong reasons,” she said in the strongest voice she could muster. “I’m sorry Lester has filled your head with notions that there’s anything romantic going on between Preacher Marlin and me—”
“But you went for a walk with him after the wedding! I saw you myself,” Gloria countered. “How do you think it makes me feel that Mary Kate hitched up with the guy I really liked, and now you are pairing up with somebody?”
Frances regretted the sense of rejection that enveloped her daughter like a heavy black cloak. There was no telling Gloria that someday the right man would come along for her—especially after Lester had already contaminated her attitude. “I am not pairing up with anyone,” she said firmly. “Matter of fact, I’ve decided to take an apartment at the lodge, where we won’t need Lester—or any other man—to look after us. I think you’ll enjoy living there, too, and you could even have your own apartment. You can’t tell me you really want me to hitch up with Lester.”
Gloria’s mouth dropped open. She looked ready to cry. “Why would I want to live amongst all those—those biddy hens?” she demanded shrilly. “And why, after I’ve just lost my dat, do you expect me to leave my home, as well? I had no idea you were so hateful, Mamm! So selfish.”
Frances’s heart sank like a stone.
She silently counted to ten as she considered Gloria’s accusations. Had she been selfish? Hateful? It was true that she hadn’t consulted her daughter about moving into an apartment—but then, Floyd hadn’t asked anyone’s opinion about moving the family to Promise Lodge, either. As the head of the household and a compassionate parent, he’d done what he’d felt was best for Mary Kate and her baby.
What most folks didn’t know was that in order to move away quickly, before Mary Kate’s condition became apparent to his congregation, Floyd had sold their property in Sugarcreek for a lot less than it was probably worth. He’d invested that money in their new Promise Lodge home, so they hadn’t had much of a cash cushion. Her husband had been a proud man, beholden to no one, and he’d figured to replenish their finances when he and Lester reestablished their window and siding business in Missouri—but the medical bills from his stroke had eaten up most of their remaining savings.
Now that Frances was a widow and a single parent, she saw the sale of their property as a prudent financial decision that would keep her from having to depend on Lester or any other man until she could remarry by choice rather than out of necessity. Gloria was old enough to understand these matters, but she was in no frame of mind to see reason. Backed against an emotional wall, she resembled a trapped animal—as though her mother was holding her there by force.
Frances sighed. “Please understand that the money from selling the house would support us for a long time, considering that neither of us has an income,” she pointed out. “Roman has been helping us with the chores, but I won’t ask him to pay our bills or buy our groceries.”
She paused to allow time for her words to sink in. Her daughter’s tearful, desperate expression gave Frances all the more reason to stand firm on her decision. “Unless you come up with a better idea to generate an income by the end of this week,” she said in a purposeful tone, “we’re going to follow my plan—not because I’m selfish, but because it takes money to keep us going. I’ve told Lester he’s not to speak to me again about marriage, so please don’t encourage him—and don’t consider that as an option.”
Steeling herself against Gloria’s sob, Frances went downstairs. She’d done her share of crying since Floyd’s death, and wringing her hands—adding her tears to her daughter’s wouldn’t accomplish anything. With pen and paper in hand, she sat on the sofa to decide which furnishings and belongings she could part with and which pieces she would take to an apartment in the lodge.
Chapter Eight
“Steady now! Little higher . . . higher—got it!” Allen crowed as he and his dat positioned the pre-built dormer on the roof of the tiny home he was constructing. He grinned at Bishop Monroe and Preacher Marlin, who stood on the ground beside the horse-drawn pulley system that had raised the dormer. “By the time you move your horse to the other side, we’ll have this dormer secured and we’ll be ready for the second one. Once I hang the door, this baby’s all closed in!”
Monroe smiled up at him. “I’d be bumping my head every time I turned around in a little house like this,” he said. “But it’s cute, in a munchkin sort of way. And it went together a lot faster than a regular-sized house.”
“That’s because his old man suggested that he build all the walls and dormers first, and then join them together, like we build a barn,” Dat put in with a laugh. “It might not be a house an Amish man would live in, but Plain ingenuity still applies.”
“Okay, so I owe you for your advice,” Allen admitted. He held the dormer in place while his dat rapidly bolted it down with his battery-powered screwdriver. “And just this once, you were right.”
The men’s laughter buoyed Allen’s spirits. He probably could’ve constructed his little house by himself, or with assistance from Cyrus and Jonathan, but he was glad he’d invited his dat to help. Truth be told, the structure had come together much faster than if he’d worked independently: the four of them and a horse had raised the walls and attached the roof in just a couple of hours, and the two dormers would be in place by lunchtime.
“This home’s on wheels, so does that mean you plan to travel in it?” Marlin asked as he unhitched the young Clydesdale.
Allen shrugged. “It’s a possibility—and that would be a way for me to get orders to build more of them,” he replied. “Right now, though, I figure to stick around while I build a couple of display models in different styles. You can talk about square footage and built-in features till the cows come home, but most folks can’t visualize how a tiny home works until they step inside one.”
Marlin nodded. “I’m looking forward to seeing this place when it’s finished. I could imagine living in a tiny home all by myself, but with a family there’d be no getting away from the wife or the kids—”
“Jah, there’d be too much togetherness,” Dat agreed as he stood up. “And Mattie would be hard-pressed to serve dinner in a place that didn’t have room for a regular-sized table.”
“It’s a matter of readjusting your priorities and expectations,” Allen explained. “Since I don’t own a full-sized table, or any furniture to speak of, it won’t be as much of a challenge for me to live small.”
“It’ll be an adventure,” Monroe said as he shifted the scaffolding and pulley system to the other end of the building. “I hope customers see your display models and decide then and there to have you build them new homes, Allen. It’s gut for all of us to be around young fellows who think outside the box and have fresh ideas.”
“I agree completely,” Marlin chimed in. “This sort of home is also a lot more affordable than the houses we Amish live in.”
“Jah, once again Dat came in handy,” Allen joked as he shot his father a smile. “He came up with enough shingles and lumber and window glass—and other odds and ends left from building your places—that I’ve only had to invest a few hundred dollars in materials for my house.”
“Not to mention some free labor,” Dat put in with a laugh. “But it does my heart gut to have you living and working here, son. I’ll be happy to help
you with every house you build, if it means you’re sticking around to be a part of our family again.”
A shimmer of emotion made Allen glance away. When he’d been a kid finishing school, he couldn’t wait to move away from the domineering man who’d made him toe the line and attend church, and who’d lectured him about every little thing he’d done wrong. Had Dat mellowed, or had his own attitude changed?
Allen chose not to think too hard about the answer to that question. For now, it felt nice to bask in his dat’s smile and to be the recipient of his expertise.
Within twenty minutes the second dormer was attached. Allen clambered down with the box of bolts and then steadied the ladder while Dat descended with his screwdriver, level, and hammer dangling from his tool belt.
“Denki for your help, fellows,” he said as he shook hands with Monroe and Marlin. On an impulse, he slipped an arm around his father’s shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze. “I’ll see what the Kuhns have rustled up for lunch, and then I’ll shingle the roof and install the solar panels and the door. It’s been a great day!”
Preacher Marlin inhaled deeply and turned around. “My nose is telling me Irene and Phoebe have fired up the oven for their new pie shop,” he said, gesturing toward the small bakery near Christine’s dairy barn. “Might have to mosey over and see if they have any samples.”
“Might have to put in your order,” the bishop corrected. “The way I’ve heard it, they’re only baking what they’ve already sold, which seems like a smart way to do business—not that any of us would allow unclaimed pies to go to waste!”
Allen watched the three men stride past the cabins toward the road, holding a lively conversation as they walked. He noticed that none of them went to the bakery, even though the irresistible aroma of pastry filled the air. Something made him step inside his cabin and wash up. He checked his hair in the small bathroom mirror—curiosity, he told himself as he grabbed his wallet.
New Beginnings at Promise Lodge Page 8