But she explained the steps to dozens of women as well as a few men over the course of the day. And the jars of jam disappeared until there were only two left.
And those final jars were snapped up by a grandmotherly woman late in the afternoon. She exclaimed over the jam and told Levy how much she used to enjoy making preserves with her mother and grandmother.
“Come back in a couple of weeks when the blueberries are ripe,” Levy told her. “Jane makes blueberry jam that simply melts in your mouth.”
“I will!” The woman tucked the jam into a canvas bag. “I don’t do a lot of canning anymore, so I’ll look forward to it.”
After the happy customer departed, Jane eyed Levy. “You’ve never tasted my blueberry jam.”
“Nein, but can you tell me it won’t be anything but delicious?”
She laughed. “Well, I have to admit your sign worked. You sold seventy-five jars of jam!”
For the rest of the afternoon, sales were brisk and Levy seemed pleased as one item after another sold out. As was his usual custom, Levy was the last booth to break down at the end of the day, and he netted two extra sales as a result.
“Whew.” With the wagon packed and the horse hitched up, Levy slumped as he directed the animal toward home. “This is why I look forward to the Sabbath. I’m always so tired by the end of farmer’s market day.”
“And I’m about to make you even more tired.”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about your scouting expedition this afternoon?”
“Ja. There are many things you shouldn’t even think about selling. A lot of vendors do, as you put it, ‘the buy-and-sell.’ Obviously there are no oranges grown in Indiana,” she joked.
He chuckled. “Ja, I hope the vendors aren’t trying to pass those off as what they grew themselves.”
“And several booths sold things like crafts and homemade soaps. I assume you’re not interested in competing.”
“No. I don’t have the time or the interest.”
“But there were a lot of things you might consider. Eggs, for example. Why aren’t you selling eggs?”
He looked bewildered. “Everyone sells eggs.”
“And everyone sells out. Bring what eggs you have. Trust me, they’ll sell.”
He rubbed his chin. “I’ll have to get cartons. They sell empty cartons at the feed store in town. What else did you see?”
“A few things you might think about for next year, but too late for this year. For example, you’ve seen glass gem corn, right?”
“Ja.”
“One booth had ears for sale, and the vendor was selling lots of them. The Englisch like to use them for decoration.”
“Hmm.” He looked thoughtful. “It would be easy to plant that next summer, though I’ll have to check the pollination timing. I can’t have it crossing with my sweet corn. What else?”
“Flowers.”
“Flowers?”
“Ja, cut flowers. Zinnias, daisies, black-eyed Susans, sunflowers, sweet peas, that kind of thing. All the Englisch women were buying them by the armfuls. Of course, that’s more for next year too, but it’s something to think about.”
“Gut, gut. I can plan for next year. But what about this year?”
“Herbs. People are crazy for herbs. I notice you have some in the garden, so you might pot some cuttings and sell those. Rosemary, sage, thyme, parsley, mint, basil. It’s a little late in the season, but I’ll bet they’ll sell. And dried herbs as well. I saw a lot of demand for dried herbs.”
He nodded. “That wouldn’t be hard to do.”
“And baked goods. I saw people selling bread, cookies, cupcakes, rolls, muffins, cinnamon rolls, all kinds of things.”
He shook his head. “That’s not something I can do. I’m no good at baking.”
“But I am.”
He glanced at her. “You’re doing enough, Jane. Not only are you taking care of Mercy, but you’re doing the housework and making jam.”
“Ja, sure, but you’ve got some hospital bills to pay off. Right now I think we both need to do as much as possible to sell things and pay off those bills. You don’t want to make Mercy’s hospital stay a burden to the rest of the community unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
He looked troubled. “I know. You’re right. But it’s a lot of extra work.”
“Of course it is. But what we need to do is sit down and plan out each day’s work. I can establish a baking schedule and make things to sell. Same with the jam. You can add dried or potted herbs to your schedule as well as picking fruit for me to make into jam.”
“That sounds gut. I wonder too—would your aunt and uncle like to send some of their dry-goods inventory over and we can sell some of those for a small commission?”
“You know what might work better? How about if we start looking at some of the things women in the church make already—dolls or small quilts or other sewn goods? You could buy them wholesale and sell them at your booth.”
“Ja.” He gave a dry chuckle. “I just bought this new booth. But I have a feeling I’m going to have to get a bigger one.”
“What about your old booth? Is it still usable?”
“Ja, but it’s too small.”
“But can you add it to your new booth?”
“Hmmm.” His brow furrowed. “Not to the side—the spaces on either side of me are rented. But maybe I can go deep. I could connect both booths into a deeper space. Fresh produce and baked goods could be up front, and dry goods and other things like that could go farther in.” He looked out into the distance, and Jane could almost see the gears in his brain churning. “I’d have to make new signage inviting customers to walk all the way to the back, but it would open up a lot more display space...”
“We’ll make this work, Levy.”
He sighed. “I’ve never had a partner before. Always, I’ve been on my own.”
She was startled. “I’m not your partner, Levy. I’m just Mercy’s nanny.”
He went silent. She worked so well with him, sometimes she suspected he forgot.
And, if she were truly honest with herself, so did she.
* * *
Jane set herself daily tasks toward providing more products to sell at the market. Levy busied himself with combining his old and new booths into one larger booth.
“Come see what you think!” he called into the house on a Wednesday afternoon.
Jane picked up the baby and walked out to where he had set the booths up near the barn. “Ach, it looks gut!” she exclaimed.
He had reconfigured the two structures to allow display racks down the length of both sides, with a small area in back where non-sale items such as chairs, the diaper bag and other personal things could be stored behind a screen. The booth was now ten feet wide and twenty feet deep.
“See, these curtains will hide the unsold produce.” He lifted a length of cheerful red gingham skirts tacked across the bottoms of the displays. “I can stack crates of fruits and vegetables under here, and they’ll stay cool and shaded and out of sight. But everything will be easy to restock. The sales table and scale will be here. Your jams can be displayed there. These shelves above will be for potted herbs. Next year if I have more to sell, such as cut flowers or decorative corn, I can add bins to this area.” He pointed. “And I’ll put up signs here and here with arrows pointing inward, so people know they can walk all the way to the back.”
“It looks wunnerschee,” enthused Jane. “It will make a huge difference in your sales, Levy, I’m sure of it.”
“I can’t wait to try it out this Saturday.” Levy looked up at the slatted roof topped with burlap, which offered shade but allowed breezes to flow through. “I think it will work.”
“By the way, don’t forget Mercy has a follow-up appointment with the doctor this afternoon.”
He groaned. “I forgot.” He took off his hat and scratched his head in frustration. “And I have a lot to do.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Are you comfortable driving yourself to the doctor? Maggie the horse, she’s well trained and easy to handle.”
“Ja, sure, I’ve driven a buggy a fair bit. I’ll take her in myself.”
Jane gave herself plenty of time to get to the hospital for Mercy’s checkup. Levy was right: the horse was easy to guide. In the hospital parking lot, she hitched Maggie under the shade of a large tree at a rail set up for the town’s Amish population. She slipped Mercy into the sling, took the diaper bag and went into the hospital.
Dr. Forster was delighted to see the baby. “You’ll be happy to know all the tests came back negative,” he told her as he laid the infant on a padded table and examined her. “We may never know what spiked that fever, but I can’t tell you how glad I am to see her looking so healthy. No more issues?”
“No. None.” Jane related the week’s events.
The doctor picked up the infant and cuddled her for a moment, then handed her to Jane. “This baby is lucky to have you caring for her, Miss Troyer. Keep on doing the excellent job you’re doing.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Jane slipped the baby into the sling. Then she shook the doctor’s hand and made her way out of the hospital.
* * *
In the midst of processing the fruit for jam the next day, Jane heard a knock at the door. She wiped away sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and felt a moment’s annoyance. She didn’t look her best and she was in the middle of a messy project. The propane cookstove was laden with large pots of water heating toward a boil, and one huge pot in which she was stirring crushed berries. She sighed, washed her hands and went to answer the door.
“Guder nammidaag!” sang her friends Sarah and Rhoda when Jane opened the door. “We’ve brought company!”
“Come in, come in!” Jane spoke with cheer, but her heart sank when she saw the other visitor was Charles, the young man who had paid her such attention at the singing. “I’m in the middle of canning jam, so let’s visit in the kitchen.”
Jane was able to conjure up a plate of cookies. The baby woke up, and soon enough she was being passed around by the young women. Little Mercy smiled with all the attention.
Charles didn’t say much, but his eyes followed Jane’s every move as she stirred the mashed raspberries on the propane stove and added the sugar and lemon juice. Jane was conscious of his interest, his scrutiny, his flattering attention. Yet after all she’d been through with Mercy in the hospital and then ramping up making items to sell at the farmer’s market, he seemed to pale in comparison to Levy’s constant industry and hardheaded common sense.
“We haven’t seen you for the last few days,” Rhoda said.
“It’s been so busy here. It’s the height of the berry season and work has been nonstop.”
“Where’s Levy now?” asked Sarah.
“Berry picking,” Jane replied. “He’s getting the last of the raspberries, but their season is mostly over. Now the blueberries are starting to peak, and he has a lot of blueberry bushes. He’s also selling a lot of the fruit fresh. You know Mercy had to spend a night in the hospital, ja? It put Levy behind schedule, so we’ve both been working twice as hard to make things to sell at the farmer’s market.”
“Do you go too?” inquired Charles. “To the farmer’s market, that is?”
“Ja.” Jane smiled at the young man. He was nice-looking but seemed boyish in comparison to Levy. “I don’t really do any of the selling, but it’s helpful to have another pair of hands. And do you know what Levy did?” She gestured toward the kettle of boiling fruit. “He made a sign saying ‘Meet the Expert Jam-Maker in Person!’ that he hangs when he puts the jam out for sale. I’ve learned a lot of Englisch don’t make their own jam, and I get so many people asking questions.”
Sarah and Rhoda chuckled at the story. But Charles, she noted, had to force his smile. She nodded to herself. Gut. He understood the subtle innuendo and unspoken nuance of the tale, and picked up the message that she, Jane, was tied up with Levy’s business plans and therefore not available as a romantic interest. She felt a little bad, but she didn’t want him harboring any thoughts she wasn’t interested in sharing.
Besides, there were lots of other girls in the youngie group. Prettier girls. Jane knew she only stood out because she was new in the community, but she had no illusion about her looks and knew Charles could get any number of other young women to return his affection.
The pot on the stove boiled, and Jane stirred in the rest of the sugar and kept stirring for about a minute before she removed the pot from the heat and skimmed off the foam. She set out the pint jars she’d sterilized earlier and began filling them with a wide-mouth funnel while the group chattered behind her.
“Ah, that’s the hardest part of the jam done.” She wiped sweat from her forehead and lifted the lid off the pots of water to check the temperature. She capped the jam and lifted the jars into the pots.
“How many pints of jam do you hope to make?” inquired Sarah.
“As many as we have raspberries for,” Jane replied. She replaced the lids on the pots and dropped onto a kitchen chair with a sigh. “I’ll repeat this process tomorrow with whatever berries have ripened. Ach, I’m tired. It’s such a busy season for Levy, and now I understand why.”
“I suppose we should leave you to your work then.” Rhoda finished eating the last of her cookie.
“I’m glad you visited.” Jane spoke the truth. She liked Sarah and Rhoda, and it was good to clear the air with Charles. “I don’t know how many youngie events I’ll be able to attend for the rest of the summer since it’s so busy here, but I’m sure that will change after the harvest season is over.”
“Ja, we’ll let you know what’s planned. We’ll see you on Church Sunday.”
Jane saw her friends out the door, then returned to the kitchen. Little Mercy began making hunger noises, so Jane prepared a bottle, checked the status of the jam and took the baby into the other room so she could settle into the rocking chair while she fed her.
She rocked and smiled. She realized the visit from the three people cheered her up. They hadn’t forgotten her. And Charles—well, he was a nice young man. He would have no trouble finding someone to court.
It just wasn’t going to be her.
* * *
“This new booth arrangement is working better than I’d hoped,” Levy murmured to Jane on Saturday, as he watched the crowd. “Sales are better than ever.”
Jane scanned the customers. “Everyone seems to like it.”
Levy watched the play of dappled sunshine on Jane’s face and realized how much he enjoyed working with her. Her industriousness—especially while caring for an infant—staggered him. And her help during these busy summer months was yielding astounding results. He realized she had a head for business that exceeded his own. She was smart, savvy and intuitive.
He listened as customers expressed appreciation for the new booth layout. “You can thank her,” he often said, waving a hand toward Jane. “She’s the genius behind the design.”
The first time he said that, he saw the glow of appreciation on her face. For a moment he was poleaxed and realized how very pretty she was. It was something he had no time to dwell on, because of how quickly customers bought things. Every pot of herbs sold. So did every jar of jam and every last baked good Jane had made. He sold out of corn, beans, peas, raspberries, blueberries, tomatoes and almost all the other produce.
At the end of the day, after the wagon was packed, Levy clucked to the horse to start for home. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such gut sales.”
“We need to ride this wave.” Jane gently bounced Mercy in her lap. “If you keep this up, the hospital bills will be paid in no time.”
“Rebecca Yoder said she had so
me fabric items she’d be interested in selling. A few dolls, a couple of baby quilts, that kind of thing.”
“And my friend Sarah has some small rag rugs she said we could display.”
“The raspberries are about done, but the blueberries are starting to peak. Are you up for making blueberry jam?”
“Of course.”
He smiled. “I don’t know how I would manage without you, Jane. Vielen Dank for all your help.”
“This is fun. A lot of work, ja, but it’s a direct connection—providing what people want.”
She lapsed into silence, holding the baby close while she watched the passing town. Levy snuck looks at her, wondering why on earth she ever thought herself plain. There was a sparkle to her, an animation he admired. Yet she also had a soothing presence, a calming influence.
He remembered her uncertainty about how long she planned to stay in Grand Creek. He realized how much he was depending on her—not just as Mercy’s nanny, but for her assistance at the farmer’s market, for her business instincts, for her industriousness. And maybe, just maybe, for herself.
“Jane,” he said, “I know you said you didn’t know how long you would stay in town. Is it possible for you to stay until after the farmer’s market season is over?”
She turned toward him, her blue eyes bright behind her glasses. “When does the market end for the season?”
“The last weekend in October.”
“That’s three months off.”
“Ja. Were you planning on leaving sooner?” His heart sped up as he waited for her answer.
“I don’t know.” She spoke thoughtfully. “I miss my family, of course, but I can see why you’d need me to stay until the season is over. Let me think on it.”
“Ja, danke.” He knew he couldn’t push, but he also knew he wanted her to stay.
For a long time.
Chapter Twelve
“She’s really starting to hold her head up now. Look at that.” Jane pointed.
It was late September. Mercy lay on a blanket on her stomach under the shade of the maple tree. As Levy walked up, sweaty and dirty from a day in the fields, she raised her head and smiled at him.
Amish Baby Lessons Page 13