Chapter 7
7
As Lois flipped the Closed sign to Open, a black SUV came up the lane. What was Moses doing back so soon? Scotty hadn’t even arrived yet.
She stepped back to the counter, pulled out the feather duster, and turned her attention to the birdhouses. Dust in the shop was a big no-no. Any dust implied the inventory was old—and neglected. Lois kept an immaculate shop.
The buzzer rang.
She stepped toward the center of the floor and forced a surprised smile and greeted him.
“Moses.”
He wore black trousers and black suspenders over a white shirt. He held his straw hat in his hands. After attempting to deny that he appeared as handsome as he had the night before, she asked, “What are you doing here so early?”
“I’m curious. I know you liked birds when we were young. Are you a birder now?”
Her face grew warm. “I don’t have time for that.”
“Why all the bird feeders and houses?”
“Supply and demand.”
That got a little bit of a smile out of him. “I’m here early to do some shopping. I need a bird feeder.”
“Oh?” Why in the world would Moses Lantz need a bird feeder? “Are you a birder?”
His face reddened a little. “It’s for my Mamm.” He closed his mouth, but it seemed perhaps he wanted to say more.
Lois stepped back toward the feeders. “Is it for a tree? Or window?”
“Window,” he said. “I’ll need to hang it from the eaves.”
She pointed toward a feeder made out of cedar with an open log-cabin look. “This design works well in a window. Or this one.” She pointed to an acrylic feeder. “It attaches easily but very securely with suction cups. I have one on my window upstairs.”
He glanced toward the back door.
“Go take a look,” she said. “It’s the window right above the back exit.”
“I will.” He stepped around her. “I’ll be right back.”
She continued dusting. She wouldn’t tell him how much joy the feeder had brought her mother.
He returned a couple of minutes later. “The feeder looks good from the outside. Any chance I could see it from the inside?”
Her face fell into a scowl, which seemed to have become her resting expression. Then she forced a smile. Of course she wouldn’t let him in her apartment. She hadn’t even made her bed, and no doubt the door to her room was open. She said, “No. Absolutely not. I can assure you the feeder looks as nice from the inside as the outside.”
His face reddened again. “All right. Are you sure the suction cups work well?”
“Yes. I bring it inside for the winter and then put it back outside in March. I’ve never had it even slip, let alone fall, even when crows try to perch inside. I bought it several years ago.” It had been in storage from the time of her mother’s death until Lois moved back to Lancaster County from Big Valley, but she wouldn’t mention that.
Moses hesitated a moment and then said, “The suction cups will make it easier to install.”
Lois nodded in agreement. “Do you have birdseed?”
He shook his head.
“I have some in the back.” Lois put the duster on the counter and headed toward the storeroom. When she returned with the feeder in a cardboard box and the birdseed, Moses was standing at the front window. He turned toward her. “A red-tailed hawk just swooped by.”
“ Wunderbar ,” Lois said. “I’ve been waiting for them to return. They’ve had a nest in the loblolly pine for the last two years.”
“In the loblolly pine?”
“Jah,” Lois said. “It’s the pine tree by the shed.” She rang up the feeder and then put it in a large paper bag. Then she placed the seed on top.
Moses took out his wallet from his jacket and pulled out a card. “You forgot to add the birdseed.”
“We include the bag with the purchase of a feeder—it’s a small bag.”
“Oh.” Moses handed her his card. “Does that bring people back into the store?”
“I think so.” Did he think it was a bad idea? “It adds to the experience. Several people have started collecting birdhouses after buying their first one here.” She lowered her voice as she ran his card. “I believe it becomes a sort of addiction.”
He said, “I see.” And then frowned.
Lois returned his card, along with the receipt. “Thank you for shopping at Paradise Found today.” She gave him her shopgirl smile. But then she added, “I hope your Mamm enjoys the bird feeder. Please tell her hello from me.”
Were those tears that sprang into Moses Lantz’s eyes? He blinked several times in a row. “I will,” he replied. “She’ll be happy to hear from you.”
That surprised Lois. Why would Moses say that? She doubted Anna Lantz remembered her.
Lois pulled her father’s watch from her apron pocket. Three o’clock. She turned the sign. Barbara usually closed early on Mondays from the first of November through the end of April. Lois wanted to send her letter to Teresa Schrock in the afternoon mail—and rent a mailbox.
She scootered down the highway, past the café, past the park, and past the stone church, her bandage pulling on her leg as she rolled along. Then she veered right at the fork and arrived at the small brick building with the Paradise, PA Post Office sign over the door . She parked her scooter in the bike rack and hurried up the steps and through the entrance. She approached the counter and told the clerk she needed a post office box.
“We have one available,” the woman said. “We just had a cancellation on Friday.”
After Lois filled out the form and paid the fee by writing a check, the woman gave her the key. “It’s on the bottom row near the middle.”
Lois found her box and tried the key. It worked. She added it to her key ring, alongside the shop key and her apartment key. Then she wrote her new return address on the envelope and slipped the letter to Teresa Schrock in the outgoing mail slot.
Once outside, she decided to keep scootering to Amy and Bennie’s farm. She could help her friend fix supper and do the afternoon chores. Perhaps they’d even have time to talk.
There was a chill in the air, but Lois warmed as she flew down the highway. She passed the road that led to her family’s old farm. A half mile later she crossed the highway and turned left onto a county road. A quarter mile later, she took a right and sped down the lane to Amy and Bennie’s farm.
When she arrived, Bennie waved from his horse-drawn plow. The air smelled of soil and manure and the world starting anew, as it did each spring. It was the best smell in the world. Lois waved and continued on to the house. As she reached the back door, Ernest, the oldest at four, opened the screen door.
“Hallo, Lois!” he called out.
Amy appeared. “Lois?” She grinned. “What are you doing here?”
“I stopped by the post office to mail a letter to Teresa Schrock about the circle letter.” Lois leaned her scooter against the back steps. “And figured I might as well keep coming.” She started up the steps. “Do you need help with supper?”
Amy laughed. “Always. Although I mostly need help with the baby. Would you rock her?”
“Of course.” Lois followed Amy into the kitchen and Ernie followed Lois.
“She’s been fussy all day,” Amy said. “I think she’s teething.”
Lois could hear the baby crying. “I’ll get her.” The baby, Maggie, was in a bassinet in the living room, and the middle two, Oliver and Deborah, who were two and half and eighteen months, were playing in what Amy referred to as the pasture—it was a fenced off area that kept them contained and Maggie safe. Ernie climbed over the fence and sat down next to Oliver.
Lois scooped up the baby. Deborah lifted her arms. Lois said, “After I rock Maggie I’ll be back.” She didn’t know how Amy did it.
As Lois sat down in the rocker, Amy asked, “So did Moses buy the shop today?”
“Not today, but it seems to be imminent.”
“You’ll still have a job, right?”
“Supposedly.” As she settled Maggie on her shoulder and began to rock, she told Amy how Scotty had made Moses promise to keep her on.
“That’s good.”
“He won’t, though,” Lois explained. “Sure, he will for a few months, probably until October, when Scotty and Barb move to Florida. Then he’ll let me go.”
“I don’t think Moses would do that.”
“You’ll see. I won’t have a job or a place to live.”
Amy shook her head but said, “If that happens, you can move in with us.”
Lois smiled at the thought. If she were going to be a mother’s helper, it would only be for Amy. But her friend wouldn’t be able to pay her, and it wouldn’t be a good idea anyway. “I wouldn’t do that to Bennie. It wouldn’t be like our last year of school when he liked having me around.” That was when Bennie and Amy had fallen in love, at fourteen. Truly. And Lois was their go-between. She adored Bennie almost as much as she adored Amy, but that didn’t mean she should move in with them.
“You know Bennie thinks the world of you.”
“I know,” Lois said.
Amy turned the propane off and slid the pan of hamburger to the back burner.
Maggie relaxed against Lois’s body. Slowing her rocking, Lois said, “Bishop Stephen asked me to think about moving back to Big Valley.”
Amy wiped her hands on her apron as she asked, “Why?”
“I need to be under the authority of a man and if I don’t have a husband, the man should be my brother.” Most single adult Amish women did live with a relative, but it wasn’t unheard of for one to live alone. But they were usually older than Lois.
“Then you need a husband in Lancaster County, preferably Paradise Township,” Amy said. “And soon.”
“I need to figure out this whole courting thing.” She told Amy about the singing. “Why am I so bad at it?”
“There’s nothing to figure out. You have to let it happen naturally.”
Lois didn’t believe her. “What do you think about John Miller?”
Amy’s eyes grew large. “John Miller? Mark’s little brother? That John Miller?”
Lois nodded.
Amy stirred the hamburger. “Wasn’t he in the third grade when we were eighth graders?”
Lois’s face grew warm. “Fourth grade. He’s twenty-one.”
“Four years is a lot....”
“According to Bishop Stephen, John is mature for his age.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “That’s what bishops always say. John’s going to take over the Miller farm, right?”
“Jah.”
Amy turned the burner down. “What about Casey?”
Lois relaxed as she said, “I adore Casey. And I’ve always been thankful for his friendship, but I’ve never been romantically interested in him. Don’t you think I would have been by now if he was the right one?”
“Jah.” Amy cocked her head. “So that brings us back to Moses.”
Lois’s rocking came to an abrupt stop, causing Maggie to let out a cry. She started again.
Amy had a mischievous look in her eyes. “I’ve always thought you and Moses would get back together.”
Lois started patting the baby’s back again. “We weren’t really together.”
Amy scrunched her button nose, pushing her cheeks upward. “You were. You were even thinking about marriage, remember?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried to forget.”
“He was in love with you, even after you’d been so mean to him.” Amy stepped back to the counter.
Lois rocked faster. “I wasn’t mean to him.”
“You called him Goliath.”
That was true.
Amy ran a dishcloth under the water. “Remember, you asked him one time why he was so tall when his parents were so short.”
Lois’s face grew warm. She remembered that too, much to her chagrin. “Well, he was tall. And his parents were very short. He was as tall as his mother by the time he was nine. As tall as his Dat by the time he was twelve. We all wondered.”
“But you said it out loud and that hurt his feelings.”
Lois did her best to be humble, but her defenses grew. “He used to call me Baby Bunting. Do you remember that?” He meant a baby bunting bird, not Baby Bunting from the poem.
“It’s not the same. Baby buntings are cute.” Amy leaned closer. “Have you forgiven him for acting like a normal boy?”
“He was fourteen by the end of our school days.”
Amy turned off the water. “Has he forgiven you?”
“For what?”
“For being mean to him.”
“I wasn’t, not really.”
“He was tall, taller than anyone.” Amy lowered her voice. “Don’t you think he already was self-conscious without you pointing out how big he was?”
Lois’s face grew even warmer. Amy was right. That had been rude. Should she apologize to Moses now for something she’d said twelve years ago? Would apologizing just make it worse?
Amy began wiping down the counters. “How does Moses look now?”
“Even bigger.”
“Meaning?” Deborah began to cry in the living room. Amy waited for Lois’s answer.
“Taller. And very fit.” Quite muscular in fact. But she wouldn’t tell Amy that.
Lois and Amy hadn’t had another chance to say a word to each other unless it had to do with preparing supper, the kinner, cleaning up, or bath time the rest of her visit. As Bennie put Ernie, Oliver, and Deborah to bed, Amy nursed the baby in the rocking chair in the kitchen.
“I better get going,” Lois said.
“It will be dark soon. Bennie can give you a ride.”
Lois glanced toward the staircase. Deborah was crying and Oliver was yelling. She turned her attention back to Amy. “I can scooter home. It’s not dark yet—and I have my vest.” She stepped to the door and picked up her backpack. Then she pulled out the flashing light she used at night. Turning it on and holding it up, she said, “And I have this.”
Amy grinned. “That’s awfully fancy.” She pulled the baby away from her breast and refastened her dress. Then she put the baby up to her shoulder.
“Thank you for having me for supper,” Lois said. “It’s always good to be part of your—” she grinned—“chaotic household.”
Amy faked an expression of shock. But then said, “Please come more often. I mean it. And if you need a place to stay, please come live with us. Bennie and I both want you to.”
Lois stepped back toward the rocking chair. “Denki. For everything. You’re the best friend ever.”
“No.” Amy continued patting the baby’s back. “You are.”
It was a conversation they’d had more than once.
“I’m praying for you.” Amy gave her a sassy look. “And for Moses.”
Lois laughed, gathered up her things, waved, and then slipped out the front door for her solitary ride home.
The next morning, as Lois ate breakfast, she thought of Amy praying for Moses. Could Lois do that? She swallowed a lump of oatmeal. Nee. She didn’t think so.
As she stood to take her bowl to the sink, she caught a flash of neon out the window. She looked again. There were two men in the field behind the store close to the shed—near the loblolly pine. Surveyors wearing safety vests. Moses stood next to the shed.
Lois quickly finished getting ready for work, donned her cloak, and rushed down the steps. Then, instead of going into the shop, she marched through the wet grass toward Moses. When she neared him, she called out, “What’s going on?”
He gave her a wry smile. “ Guder Mariye to you too, Lois. How are you this fine day?”
She crossed her arms. “Fine, thank you very much. Fine and curious. Why do you have surveyors out here?”
“I need some measurements before I can negotiate with Scotty.”
“For what plans?”
“I hope to put in a market on this part of the property. I want this place to be a tourist destination for—”
“I’m all for attracting more tourists, but you don’t need to decimate the property to do so.”
“I have to develop it to create a market. A foundation and then a building. And a sheltered area with a concrete pad. All for an Amish market.”
“You’re Mennonite.”
His face reddened. “I grew up Amish. I want to provide business opportunities for Amish people through a tourist destination.”
“Even if it means paving over a pristine green space?”
“A market will bring more business into the shop and the township than this field.”
Lois narrowed her eyes as she glared at him. “But it’s practically a park.”
“A park?”
“Jah. Sometimes local people walk around the property for exercise and to enjoy the woods. A few have even brought a picnic here in the summer. Scotty lets me host a Youngie wiener roast each summer, the first Friday of June. And—” she stared up at the pine tree—“the red-tailed hawks might still come back, plus multiple species of birds make their home in the woods.”
He sighed. “I’m not going to do anything to the woods.”
“You don’t think construction and then a market will negatively impact the bird population around here?”
“Since when do you care about birds?”
“Everyone cares about birds.” Lois glared at Moses and then muttered, “At least they should.”
He shrugged. “I chose this property so I could build a market.”
“Then don’t put up a building and a concrete pad. Have the market on the grass.”
“It wouldn’t be safe,” Moses answered. “The uneven ground would be a liability.”
“Then level the ground.”
“It wouldn’t stay level.”
Lois continued to glare at him for a long moment. Why did he have to be so logical? She spun away from him and marched toward the shop without saying goodbye. As she fumed, she chastised herself. What did she care? She wouldn’t live or work on the property much longer.
But she did care. And she couldn’t shake her fury. Moses, thankfully, didn’t come into the shop, but he was still out back with the surveyors. Was he having every inch of the property measured? He’d probably change his mind about the woods when he became greedy for even more land to develop.
Lois waited on customers and stocked shelves, but put off doing inventory. No need to do that until Scotty told her to. He’d need the information for the sale, no doubt.
She was still fuming when her favorite customer, Isabelle Conley, came into the shop. Isabelle had been gone all winter, staying with friends in Arizona. She greeted Lois with a hug. After she told Lois about her time away, which included several weeks in Palm Springs and a week in San Diego, Lois told Isabelle how much she liked her outfit.
Isabelle beamed. “I picked up the necklace and bracelet at a shop in California.” The jewelry had a nautical theme, which complemented her outfit—white capris, a navy shirt with a striped collar and cuffs, and white flats. Isabelle, who was in her fifties and glamorous—at least to Lois—had grown up in Lancaster County and then owned a gift shop in Philadelphia years ago. She sometimes offered helpful advice to Lois on displays and product placement.
Isabelle asked, “What’s going on outside with the surveyors?”
“Have you talked with Barb or Scotty?”
“No. I just got home last night.”
“They’re selling the business, it seems to Moses Lantz.”
Isabelle’s hand flew to her chest. “They’re selling?”
“Jah.”
“Why didn’t they tell me?”
Lois wrinkled her nose, fearing she’d said too much. “I think it all happened pretty fast.”
Isabelle’s hand fell to her side. “Tell me the name of the buyer again.”
“Moses. Moses Lantz.”
Isabelle hesitated and then said, “Doesn’t he own the new café?”
Lois nodded.
“I’m flabbergasted.” Isabelle shook her head as she spoke. “I told Scotty a year ago that I would buy this shop in a heartbeat. Why didn’t he let me know?”
“Call him,” Lois said, shocked at how quickly the words came out. “Do you have his number?”
“I have Barb’s.” Isabelle and Barb had been friends for years. “Could you give me Scotty’s?” She pulled her phone from her purse.
Lois rattled off the number, and Isabelle placed the call as she stepped toward the birch tree display.
A moment later, she said, “Scotty! It’s Isabelle Conley.” After a pause, she added, “I’m home from Arizona.” She laughed. “I’m mostly fine. I am a little disappointed you didn’t offer to sell Paradise Found to me.” Her voice took on a teasing tone. “Don’t you remember? I told you I’d be interested in buying it last year.” Lois was impressed with how light Isabelle’s voice sounded. She could learn a lot from how Isabelle handled her emotions.
There was another pause, and then Isabelle said, “Of course I was serious. It’s the best shop around.”
Lois realized she was eavesdropping and busied herself by reshelving a candle. However, she could still hear Isabelle say, “I’d love the opportunity to make an offer on the shop, a serious one.”
As Lois placed the candle on the shelf at the front of the shop, she let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps she wouldn’t be home and job shopping after all.