by Ruth Reid
“Faith?” Her cousin’s voice rose above the sound of running tap water.
Faith looked up to find Catherine rinsing a green pepper at the sink and smirking. “Did you say something?”
“I asked what Gideon used on the grubs? Daadi sprayed our fruit trees with a mixture of blackstrap molasses, vinegar, Murphy Oil soap, and something else, maybe a dash of baking soda.”
“I’m nett sure what all he’s tried.” Faith grabbed a chopping knife from the drawer and helped Catherine dice the vegetables for omelets.
At seven o’clock, Faith turned the sign and unlocked the front door. To her surprise, Olivia came into work shortly after the first customers arrived. Her sister poured a mug of coffee and took a drink. Before now, Faith hadn’t noticed the dark circles under Olivia’s eyes. Some of her natural beauty, the peachy glow of skin that Faith always wished she had, was dulled by the worldly lifestyle Olivia had been living the past few months.
Faith glanced up from the waitress station and smiled at Olivia. “Guder—”
“Don’t,” Olivia snipped. “I’d rather we nett talk.”
“You shall find comfort in His mercy.” The words of the customer she’d served the other day echoed from the recesses of her mind. Faith wasn’t sure what prompted the sudden recall, but just as the red-haired man had brought peace to her spirit the other day, his words did so again now.
Faith retreated into the kitchen. She’d give Olivia space—the entire dining room if it’d lessen some of the tension.
“How is she?” Catherine asked.
Faith’s throat tightened. Unable to speak, she shrugged.
“This is her problem to work through. You have to trust God to soften her heart somehow.”
“I know,” Faith squeaked. “I’ve always wanted the two of us to be close-knit. I feel closer to you than mei own schweschaler and it’s sad.”
“It’s nett sad for me.” Catherine smiled. “I’ve always thought of you—both you and Olivia—as mei boppli schweschalers.”
Olivia barged through the swinging doors and produced an order ticket. Without talking to either of them, she went to the ice machine, filled two glasses, pressed the water dispenser, then went back into the dining room.
“I see where this day is heading.” Catherine rolled her eyes. “Let me know if she gets out of hand and I’ll have a talk with her.”
Faith nodded, though she had no intention of adding gas to the fire. As long as Olivia was pleasant to the customers, Faith planned to keep her mouth shut.
The front doorbell jingled, then jingled again. Faith didn’t think much of the activity, assuming the local coffee drinkers were early today, but then Olivia pushed the door open.
“I’m going to need help.”
Gideon inspected every apple before placing it in the wooden crate. He didn’t want his first apple delivery of the season to The Amish Table to be infested. Considering the hassle trying to eradicate the grubs, he was pleased with the size and taste of the Honeycrisps. Hopefully Faith would be pleased with them as well.
He loaded the crate of apples into the back of the buggy, then wiped the sweat off his forehead with a hankie. It sure didn’t feel like the end of August. He hoped the heat was an indication of an Indian summer this fall. The nicer weather prolonged apple season, which meant he had a chance of making up his losses from the beetle infestation.
Gideon climbed on the buggy bench and clicked his tongue to signal Bay forward. He’d timed the trip into town so he’d arrive between the breakfast and lunch crowds, hoping Faith would have a few minutes to visit. Although they had agreed to wait for her baptism before they made courting official, he still planned to spend as much time with her as possible. Provided the beetles didn’t take up all of his time. Five weeks. She’d be baptized, days away from turning seventeen, and they could start secretly making wedding plans—once he properly proposed, that is. It’d take another year, maybe two, depending on the number of damaged trees and loss of revenue, before he’d have enough saved to build a house.
Gideon pulled into the restaurant, amazed by all the cars. Labor Day wasn’t until next week. He parked in the back and unloaded the apple crate. He tried opening the back door, but it was locked. He knocked.
The door opened, and Catherine waved him inside. “Irma’s home with Mordecai and Faith’s waiting tables.”
“The parking lot is full.” He set the crate on the counter, then went to the swinging doors and peeked into the dining room. “You’re packed.”
“Been like this all morning.”
He glanced at the dishes piled high on the counter next to the sink.
Faith pushed open the door, greeting him as she strode to hang an order on the wire. “What brings you to town?”
He motioned to the crate. “I brought you some apples.”
“That’s wunderbaar, danki.” Faith didn’t stop moving. She filled the drink order next, then practically ran him over on the way to the dining room. “I’ll be right back. Can you wait?”
“Jah, I can—” He motioned to the sink, but Faith was already gone.
“Don’t mind her,” Catherine said. “We’ve been burning both ends of the candle all morning. The newspaper article really gave business a boost.”
“What article?”
Catherine glanced at the hamburger patties frying on the grill, then darted around the island and grabbed the newspaper from the far counter. “Detroit News did a story about The Amish Table.” She handed him the paper, then went back to flip the burgers. “You’ll find the article in the Home section.”
He flipped through the different sections until he found the right one, then scanned the pages. He noticed the picture of the building, The Amish Table sign out front, and the plate of eggs, bacon, and potato pancakes. Reading the write-up, he smiled when he came to the part about the farm-fresh eggs and bread baked daily. Gideon had never known anything different. His mother baked all their bread and cooked eggs laid by hens they raised.
Faith came into the kitchen and plopped down on the stool at the island. “I wasn’t ready for so many customers. They’re lining up outside.”
“I read the article. What a nice review.”
“Jah, who would have thought it would bring so much business?”
Olivia flew through the door and in her rush bumped into Gideon, knocking the paper out of his hand.
“I’m sorry.” Olivia squatted down at the same time he did to collect the scattered pages.
Gideon picked up a section of the paper. The headline read: “Still Missing—Have You Seen Her? $100,000 Reward for Information.” But it wasn’t the headline that caught his attention. He studied the photograph. “Wow . . . I can’t get over how much this person looks like you, Faith.” He turned the paper so she could get a better look.
“If I were an Englischer maybe.” She pushed off the chair. “I better take the kaffi pot around and check how everyone is doing.”
Gideon followed Faith with his eyes out the door. So much for spending time with her.
Olivia tugged on the page. “May I see the picture?”
“Jah, sure.” He handed her the disorganized stack of papers, then went into the dining room to speak with Faith. He ducked behind the wall partition near the coffeepot. He’d never seen so many people waiting for tables. The line stretched from the door, along the length of the building, blocking the view of the parking lot and road from the windows. Multiple conversations bounced off the walls, filling the room with garbled chatter. He gazed at Faith refilling coffee mugs, smiling, talking with the customers, radiating with joy.
“Gideon,” Faith said as she approached, “is something wrong?”
“Nay, why?”
“You looked like you were staring into space.” She set the coffeepot on the warmer and faced him. “What’s up?”
“This place makes you happy, doesn’t it?”
Faith tilted her head. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I .
. . ah”—he aimed his thumb over his shoulder—“I could help with dishes, if you agree to help me in the orchard after work.”
Faith smiled. “Jah, I will. Anything to get out of doing dishes.” She winked.
Chapter 31
I hope you’ll kumm back and visit us again soon,” Faith said to the last customers of the day as she handed back the change from their bill.
“I only have one suggestion,” one woman said.
“What’s that?”
“You should consider opening a bakery shop too.”
Faith chuckled. “I don’t have enough hours in mei day as it is.” She walked the group of women to the door, held it open, and thanked them again as they left. The Amish Table had closed over an hour ago, but like her mother, Faith didn’t want to rush anyone out the door, even though it meant not getting out on time.
Faith locked the door, then leaned against it and sighed. What a day—a glorious day, Father. Even with her feet throbbing and as tired as she was, she wouldn’t complain about God’s way of answering her prayers. Between take-out orders and the constant flow of customers, this had to have been their busiest day ever. And, on top of providing an increase in revenue, God also provided a compatible environment where Faith and Olivia were able to set aside their differences and work together in a peaceful way.
Faith had already cleared most of the dirty dishes from the table of eight. She just needed to grab the coffee mugs, dessert plates, and forks.
The kitchen door swung open and Gideon appeared carrying the busboy tub. “Need help?”
Faith smiled. “Did you think this day would ever end?”
He transferred dirty dishes into the tub. “I’m all for eating on paper plates after this,” he said with a chuckle.
“Me too.” Faith rolled the used place mats and set the trash in one corner of the tub. She motioned to the tables they had earlier joined in order to accommodate the women’s group. “Would you give me a hand putting these tables back?”
Gideon placed the tub of dishes on a chair, then grasped the end of the table.
“I really appreciate your help today,” she said, lifting the other end. “I’d forgotten the date the newspaper man said the article would be in the paper. To be honest, I had no idea one person could make such a difference.” They moved the next table against the wall.
“So you met the person who wrote the review?”
“Jah, I thought it was odd that he ordered a second breakfast and that he wanted to take pictures of the food. He mentioned that he wrote tourism stories about local restaurants hidden away on the back roads of Michigan.”
“That’s interesting. He just stumbled into Posen?”
She shrugged. “Or God sent him.” God had certainly sent the customers today, and the majority of them had mentioned the article. She glanced at the clock hanging on the far wall and frowned.
“Something wrong?”
“I didn’t realize how late it was getting. Mamm and Daed were expecting us to bring home supper, and nau I’m nett sure if we even have some of the special of the day left over.”
“Olivia took food home,” he said.
“She did? I mean, I assumed Olivia was helping Catherine reddy-up the kitchen.”
“It was Catherine who suggested she nett keep your parents waiting.” He grinned. “And I offered to bring you home.” He picked up the container of dishes. “I’ll do these while you finish whatever needs to be done out here.”
Faith watched him as he walked away. This day would have been a disaster had he not stayed to help. Oh no! She’d promised to help him in the apple grove and now it was dark. Faith hurried and wiped the tablecloths with a bleach rag. As she repositioned the chairs around the table, a newspaper fell on the floor. Picking it up, she reread the food critic’s headline: “The Amish Table—A Place Where Farm-Raised, Hand-Picked, Baked-from-Scratch Daily Beckons Simple Living.”
Faith pressed the paper against her chest. “Danki, Father, for the abundant blessings You bestowed upon mei family. Forgive me for fretting about the restaurant’s future. All the while I was wallowing in fear about the restaurant possibly closing, You were taking care of all our needs. I want to learn to trust in Your ways better and nett fret so much.” She straightened the tablecloth. “Gideon needs help keeping the beetles away from his trees. Please allow his orchard to flourish. He’s such a kind and considerate—”
Glass shattered, startling Faith.
Gideon poked his head around the waitress station. “Just me. I was putting mugs on the rack and one fell.”
“I’ll get the broom.” She headed into the kitchen, grabbed the broom and dustpan from the utility room, then waved at Catherine, who was busy chopping vegetables for the next day.
Gideon was grinning when she returned. “I’m sorry I interrupted you.”
Faith swept the pieces into the pile. “How long were you in here?”
He squatted down with the dustpan. “I heard you praying for me. Danki.”
“We’re supposed to pray for one another.” She focused on cleaning up the mess. Plain people didn’t usually pray out loud, and she prayed silently, too, but even as a child she talked with God as if He were her only friend. And the way she and Olivia got along, she needed someone to talk to.
“Will you keep mei apples in your prayers?”
“Of course I will, silly.” She swept under the table. “I’m going to mop in the morning so we can leave anytime.”
Gideon emptied the dishpan and the trash container.
“I appreciate your help, Gideon.”
“Anytime.”
Faith flipped the light switch on the dining room wall, her eyes feeling heavier in the dark.
Catherine snapped the lid on the container of chopped onions and placed it in the refrigerator. “I have things pretty well set up for tomorrow, so we shouldn’t have as much to prepare.” She removed her apron, hung it on the hook. “But if tomorrow goes like today, we’ll need more workers.”
“I agree.” The way her feet were aching, Faith wasn’t sure if she could keep up the pace another day.
“I’ll stop by Lois’s haus on mei way home,” Catherine said as they lumbered to the back door.
“See you in the morning.” Faith locked up, then she and Gideon headed to his buggy. “I hope getting out late hasn’t interfered with your work in the orchard.”
“It’ll wait for tomorrow.” He untied Bay from the post.
“But what about the beetles?”
“You prayed about it, remember?”
“So I did.” Faith climbed onto the bench and yawned. The cool night air was calming, and she closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic sound of Bay’s hooves clip-clopping over the pavement.
“Faith,” Gideon said, nudging her shoulder. “You’re home.”
She blinked a few times and looked around. “I fell asleep?”
He chuckled. “Snoring like a bear in hibernation.”
“Remind me to ask you tomorrow what that sounds like.” She opened the door and slid groggily off the bench. She didn’t make it more than a few steps when Gideon sidled up beside her.
“I think you’re still sleeping,” he said, placing his hand on her lower back.
“Maybe.” She giggled. “Maybe you’re just a dream.”
Chapter 32
Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
Present day
Roslyn paced the kitchen. Brandon should have been back from his run by now. Ten, eight-minute miles. Eighty minutes. She checked her watch and growled under her breath. Brandon, you left two hours ago. Where are you? She wrapped herself in a hug. Don’t panic. She circled the island, stopped at the mini fridge, and removed a bottled water. Uncapping the bottle top, her hands trembled. She took a long drink, the arctic water sending a shudder through her body. She glanced at her cell phone. No missed calls or voice messages. Was he always this late and she just hadn’t noticed?
The French door opening downstai
rs off the pool courtyard triggered a security alert to chirp and her phone to vibrate. She pressed the remote video feed on her phone and blew out a breath when she spotted her husband on the monitor. He’d either taken a shower in the spa downstairs or gone up the private staircase to the master suite.
Roslyn removed from the refrigerator the ingredients to make a green smoothie. Brandon liked the combination of kale, spinach, blueberries, ginger, and a splash of almond milk while she preferred the taste of spinach, apple, avocado, and Greek yogurt in hers. She blended his first and had it ready to hand to him when he entered the kitchen.
“Thanks.” Brandon took a drink. “It’s good.”
Roslyn decided she didn’t want one and put the items back in the refrigerator.
He motioned to the wall. “What’s with the suitcases?”
“I booked us a weekend getaway up north,” she said, rinsing the blender. “A cabin on Lake Huron.”
He cocked his head. “Why would you want to go to—this has something to do with the hotline number for the reward, doesn’t it?”
“If you’re referring to following up on new information about our daughter, the answer is yes, it does.” So much for waiting to talk with him when his endorphins were high after his run.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Roz.”
“When I showed you the 3-D simulation of the car going off the bridge, you said you’d support me in this.”
“You said you were going to hire a private investigator to screen the calls. Don’t you understand how dangerous it is for you to chase down leads yourself? There’re nuts that will think you’re carrying a hundred thousand dollars in your purse. They’ll kill you for it.”
“That’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
“No.” His authoritative voice sharpened. “Wait and go after the investigator verifies the hotline tip is legit. If it’s her—”