An Amish Gift (13 page)

Just another little hobby, Jennie thought, making the entire wardrobe for such a huge family.

“Should I tell her to come?”

“No, Emma, don’t bother her if she’s busy. I made this peanut brittle for all of you. Would you give it to your mother and tell her I hope you enjoy it?”

Emma reached out for the tin.

“Thank you,” Jennie said. “Could you ask her something for me? I’ve never made it before, so I’d like to know if it tastes good or not.”

The little girl gave a solemn nod and turned around to follow Jennie’s instructions. Smiling, Jennie got back into her car. She would learn the truth about her peanut brittle soon enough.

She didn’t hear anything the next day. It wasn’t as if Mattie would call on the telephone, so that left either a visit, she told herself wryly, or a message sent by carrier pigeon. Early in the
evening, unable to wait any longer, Jennie drove back to the farm. It was still light, and as she approached the house, she saw Mattie standing near the vegetable garden, talking with Peter and Sarah. She came around to where she was visible and called out hello.

“Jennie,” said Mattie with pleasure, “I received your gift last night, but you did not come in. Why?”

“You were busy.”

She frowned. “Not too busy to say thank you for a gift.”

“It was nothing. But if you got a chance to eat it, I would really like to know your opinion. Did you like it?”

“It was good.”

Peter and Sarah nodded in agreement.

“Yes. It was. I ate so much, my stomach hurt,” Sarah said.

“I ate more than you, and my stomach was fine,” Peter said. He glanced toward the barn. “Excuse me. I have to take a look at Maisie.”

“A cow who is not so well,” Mattie explained to Jennie as he walked away.

“And I’ll get back to my sewing,” Sarah said. “I’m working on a pillow cover.” She said good night.

Jennie turned to Mattie. “You said you tried the peanut brittle?”

She nodded.

“And you liked it?”

“Yes.” Mattie smiled.

Three for three, Jennie thought. She had her answer. The Amish weren’t prone to hyperbole or empty praise. They didn’t
brag about what they did; nor did they go on and on giving anyone else compliments. When they said good, that was exactly what they meant. It was probably the highest praise she could have hoped for.

“You are worried that something was wrong with it?”

Jennie was overwhelmed with the need to confide in someone. “Mattie, I have to find a way to make some money.” She paused. “We’re pretty much broke. Shep works hard, but the store doesn’t bring in enough.”

Mattie looked sympathetic but didn’t say anything.

“I came up with the idea of selling candy. So I made that to see if I could do it. I know it’s not unique or anything, but still. That’s what I’m really asking: Is it good enough to sell?”

Mattie considered the question. “Yes, it is.”

The confirmation flooded Jennie with relief. “Now I have to figure out where to sell it.”

The other woman frowned. “You have no place to do this?”

Jennie shrugged. “Not really. A stand by the road? I don’t know what my choices are yet.”

Mattie looked out over the garden, thinking. “What if I sold it at our booth at the market?”

“You would do that?” Jennie was taken aback by such a generous offer. She turned it over in her mind. “That would be fantastic, but why would your uncle allow me to sell something that might take business away from his food?”

“I would talk to him. I am thinking we would buy it from you and sell it for a profit. You would be a vendor, and we would buy your product from you. Simple.”

A smile spread across Jennie’s face. “Of course. I’ll provide it to you, and you’ll do the selling.”

“Let me talk to my uncle’s family.”

Jennie gave her a quick hug. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Do not. He might say no. I am hoping it would be good for everyone.”

“In the meantime, I’ll practice making a better brittle.” Jennie laughed, her excitement growing. “Have to come up with a bag or a box for it, and a name. So much to do!”

Saying their good nights, the women went in different directions, Mattie toward the barn, Jennie toward her car. Even if Mattie’s uncle said no, even if Jennie came up with another place and the candy didn’t sell, at least she would know she had tried. She was no longer sitting by and waiting for someone or something to come along and rescue the family. She was taking action, and it felt wonderful. Just knowing that gave her the confidence to believe she would make her plan work.

As she passed close to the house, she heard children singing and paused to listen. It sounded like they were singing hymns. Their sweet voices filled the evening air with the sound of gratitude. Jennie took a deep breath, realizing it was the first time in a long time that she had felt the stirring of hope.

For the next several days, Jennie did little else besides making peanut brittle. Every morning, she waited for her husband and children to go their respective ways, then dashed into the kitchen to assemble the ingredients and start experimenting. There were so many variations, and she wanted to find a second tempting version to sell along with the regular peanut brittle. She tried coconut brittle, brittle dipped in chocolate, brittle with almonds and walnuts, and a slew of other combinations. The Fisher family had a steady supply, and realizing that Jennie took their reviews seriously, they made an effort to give her detailed impressions. In the end, she decided the winner was brittle with cashews. She would start by selling that along with the basic peanut brittle and see what developed.

Miraculously, it seemed to Jennie, Mattie’s uncle gave his permission to add her candy to his stand. Now all she had to do was come up with a way to package it. She had picked up some
small cellophane bags, but they weren’t too exciting. Tins would preserve it longer, though preservation wasn’t necessary if it was being sold in small quantities that would probably be eaten quickly. She was mulling over the situation as she poured out the contents of a fresh batch, knowing she could start selling it the next day if she could decide on the display.

The front door opened, and her daughter called out to see if anyone was home. Jennie froze. She had lost track of the time, and Willa was back from school. When she entered the kitchen, she regarded the scene with puzzlement. Her mother stood over three baking sheets full of candy, surrounded by dirty dishes and pots, stacks of colorful tins, and assorted utensils.

“It smells so good. What’s going on?” Willa came closer. “Is it peanut brittle again? Wow, you sure made a lot.”

Even though she had planned on waiting until things were a lot further under way, Jennie decided it couldn’t hurt to tell Willa now. Setting down the pot on the stove, she started to explain. Her daughter stared at her in amazement.

“I’m hoping to start the actual selling tomorrow,” Jennie concluded, “but I don’t have a good idea for packaging. I need a way to display it that will attract some attention.”

Willa sat down in a chair, taking everything in. “I can’t believe you, Mom. You’re starting a business, like, for real.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m trying. We could use the money, as you might have guessed.”

Willa gave her a look. “
Scout
has probably guessed. Really, Mom, we’re not total idiots.”

Jennie felt foolish, realizing that she treated her children as
if they were small and innocent. They knew everything going on around them. She had, too, when she was their age. So why did she assume they were any different?

“Okay.” She sat down across from her daughter. “Then let’s work together. Help me come up with a way to make my stuff call out, ‘Buy me immediately!’ ”

Willa closed her eyes, thinking aloud. “Homemade peanut brittle. Fresh, local. Small batches. Special. Not mass-produced.” She looked at her mother. “Do you have anything at all to put them in?”

Jennie jumped up to show her the bags and metal tins. “They’re fine, just sort of boring.”

Willa took a few of each and said she would be back. Intrigued, Jennie cleaned up as she waited. Half an hour later, Willa came downstairs, asking for a few pieces of candy. She turned so her mother couldn’t see her, made some adjustments, then turned back and extended the cellophane bag.

The bag was tied with three uneven lengths of different-colored raffia string. Dangling from the knot was a hand-torn tag. Willa had written
Got To Candy
in black ink, using a thin, spidery script above a tiny illustration of two women talking. A cartoon bubble above one head read,
You’ve got to try this. Simply got to!
The effect was sweet and whimsical.

Jennie looked at her daughter in surprise. “What on earth? I didn’t know you could draw like this! Look at these women—they’re sophisticated but funny at the same time. I love this!”

“They’re just the way I doodle.” Though Willa grinned at the praise, her expression turned anxious almost at once. “I
want it to say that this is individual, unique, you know, so all of them would have to be hand-done. It’s not supposed to look perfect.”

Jennie was nodding. “I get that, absolutely.” She laughed. “I don’t think doing them by hand is a problem, since we’re not exactly inundated with orders. You’d have to do the drawings while I tied and attached stuff.”

“Could I? That would be so cool. I’d do each one in a different color ink.”

“I had no idea we had a marketing executive in the house,” Jennie said, shaking her head in wonder. “You have a whole image for this in your head.”

“Not for the tins, though. I want to work on those some more. Could you buy solid-colored ones?”

“Sure. Hey, take your time. I’d love to see what you come up with.” She moved to hug Willa, who didn’t resist. “I can’t thank you enough, honey. This is so much better than tying it with a little curly ribbon, which is what I would have done.”

Her daughter left, talking to herself. “We need something to say what kind it is and list ingredients, maybe on the back of the tag … just draw that once and have it be the same on all of them …”

Got To Candy
. Why not, Jennie thought. You’ve got to try it. I’ve got to get this all to work. She didn’t know what to make of Willa’s newly revealed creativity. If her daughter hadn’t interrupted today’s cooking session, Jennie might never have found out about it. It proved that all the time she spent in
her room wasn’t wasted on the computer; she was thinking, drawing, experimenting. Jennie was overcome with pride in her child. Plus, they were going to work on this project together. If nothing else came of it, that was reward enough.

When Tim got home two hours later, he found his mother and sister working on their own little assembly line to create small bags of candy, each looking slightly different from the last. He looked around, noticing there was no sign of dinner in the works.

“Mom? What’s going on?” He swiped a piece of peanut brittle, receiving a light smack on the hand from Jennie. “Wait, you’re saying I can’t have any?”

“Exactly,” she answered. “Let me introduce you to Got To Candy, going on sale tomorrow morning.”

“Huh?”

Willa glanced over at him with disgust. “What word didn’t you understand, genius? Mom’s going to sell this. She’s an entrepreneur now.”

“Listen to Wilma, using the big words,” he said in mock admiration.

“Don’t call me Wilma!”

“Whatever. Is there going to be any dinner?”

Jennie hadn’t given it any thought. “Sure, in a bit. I’ll come up with something.”

“Who’s going to buy this stuff?” he asked, turning to go. “You’re both crazy.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” his sister snapped.

“It’s okay,” Jennie said when they were alone. “You can’t blame him for being skeptical. I would be, too. It’s not like he ever saw me doing anything like this before.”

Besides, she added silently, he only voiced what I’ve been thinking myself. Maybe tons of peanut brittle was already for sale at the marketplace, and it was better. Or maybe there was too much peanut brittle in the world to allow for one more bite. She didn’t know how long she would be allowed to offer her product at the booth if it didn’t sell.

As if she had read her mother’s mind, Willa said, “Listen, Mom, don’t worry. It’s going to be awesome.”

Jennie looked at her daughter. Such an unlikely source for so much support. Not to mention her truly valuable contributions. Jennie leaned over and planted a kiss on Willa’s cheek. “Awesome like you.”

“Oh my gosh, Mom, you are so embarrassing.”

“It’s my job.”

“No, this is your job, so get back to work.”

They continued with their tasks, smiling.

By the time Shep got home that night, the filled and labeled cellophane bags were neatly displayed in a large basket on the kitchen counter. He came in to get a beer from the refrigerator as Jennie was warming up his dinner in the microwave.

“What’s this?” He frowned.

She had been preparing for the moment, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. Still, the time had come.