"Now, think about that; where am I?" Oops, that was indeed a stupid question to have asked. Even George Bush might have thought to walk around my bush and would thus have exposed me.
"You're in Heaven, Ma, aren't ya?"
"Why, indeed, I am. Which is why you should be keeping your eyes on the ceiling, Johnny, because Heaven is
up
--unless, of course you live in New Zealand or Australia."
"How come Heaven ain't up for them as well, Mama?"
"Oh, my sweet son, where did I go wrong? Did I fail to send you to Sunday school?"
"No, ma'am, you sent me every Sunday--even when I was sicker than a dog."
"Well, then, we know that Heaven is not above Sydney or Melbourne, because when the world ends, Jesus will come floating down to earth on a big white cloud that will be seen by Christians all over North America, but due to the curvature of the earth, the poor folks in the antipodes will not be able to see the cloud.
That's
how we can deduce that Heaven is not located above them."
"Ma, you always did talk so fancy. Can you see angels?"
"I most certainly can. In fact, I'm looking at one right now. She's a very special angel who is allowed to come to earth on special assignments. In fact, she is going to pop into your bank at any moment and ask a very big favor of you."
"But, Ma, I don't want to birth no babies!"
"Hush up, John.
Believe me
, the last thing the Good Lord wants is for you to reproduce. My message to you today is that when that aforementioned angel--in the guise of a very comely woman--suddenly appears before you and asks you for that favor, you are to reply in the affirmative. Is that clear, Johnny? Answer me quickly, because my allotted time to speak to you is up and I must go."
"But, Ma, if she looks like a woman, instead of an angel, how will I know if she's the right one?"
"Because she'll appear in the bush you're clutching with both hands--as if it were a harbor buoy and you were a drowning man. Oh, oh, gotta go--good-bye, dear!"
For the first time Johnny Ashton began to see my bush and its many branches. At the same time I made a great show of shaking said bush and moaning, as if I had just fallen into it, before crashing out the other side. It was a pitiful performance, but by the same token, it was quite up to the performance level of my audience.
"Ah--unh--what a landing," I groaned.
Young Amy raced to my side. "Are you all right? Let me help you up, Miss--Uh, what does one call an angel?"
"Your Flyness," I said without missing a beat. I am, after all, known for being rather droll.
"Ma said you wouldn't have any wings," Johnny said, "but you really do look very humanlike. What do you eat?"
I pretended to recoil in horror. "Oh, Johnny, dear, what a horrible thought. We don't eat! If we ate, then we'd have to eliminate. You wouldn't want to have to imagine an angel on the potty now, would you?"
He blushed. "Sorry, ma'am. I ain't such a good thinker."
"That's all right, dear. Did your ma tell you that I have a very special favor to ask and that you are obligated to say yes?"
He nodded vigorously. "Yes, Your Royal Flyness."
"Good. I like your insertion of the word 'Royal' by the way. Now to the favor: I've come to get a copy of the security tape for the day the bank was robbed."
"Which robbery would that be, Your Royal Flyness?"
"There's been more than one?"
"Ma'am, Pennsylvania is the Keystone State, but when Mr. Yoder refers to us'ens as the Keystone Kops, I think he's like making an illusion to something else."
"Quite possibly so. Well, this would be the time, just a few months ago, when three Amish robbed it, and this pretty cashier here had a bullet graze her arm."
"Oh, yeah, and there was an old lady and her grandson in here, and she like tripped and fell and nearly got them both killed on that account."
"Listen, buster, in the first place she wasn't
old
--" Oops, I had better watch my nonangelic mouth. "She was
ancient
, older than Methuselah. Oy, and such a klutz you never saw. Anyway, I'd like that tape, please."
"Uh--I'm sorry, Your Royal Flyness. I know I promised Ma, and you oughtn't to go back on your promises to the dead, but if I give you that tape, Mr. Yoder will kill me, and I'm not so sure I'm going to Heaven."
"But that's the easy part of being a Christian! We can all be assured of our salvation; all we need to do is to confess our sins and believe that Jesus is our Lord."
"No offense, ma'am, but you ain't seen my lists of sins. Besides, what you just said don't seem very fair to me. Ain't that an invitation for someone like me to go out and do all manner of sinning, and when they figure they've had enough under their belt,
then
come to Jesus? Meanwhile the poor fool who turns to Jesus right away has to miss out on all the fun."
"Yes, but what if you got hit by a truck in the first five minutes of living your sinful life?"
"I'll take my chances." He gave me a manure-shoveling grin. "You know, you're kind of pretty for an angel. You allowed going out on dates?"
"Verily methinks I desire naught but to retch."
"Ma'am, I don't speak that Bible talk, so you're going to have to give it to me straight."
"Give me the robbery tape and we'll see."
"I can't."
"Johnny, I didn't want it to have to come to this, but it looks like I'm going to have to tell Ma."
"I'm sorry, pretty angel, but I'm a man of my word, and you see this really big guy came in and made me and Mr. Yoder swear that we wouldn't show nobody nothing, and besides, I ain't in charge of the tapes."
"Who changes them out?"
"I do, but I hand them all over to Mr. Yoder."
"What's this really big guy's name?"
"I can't tell you."
"In that case I'm calling your ma right now." I inhaled deeply, to get a lot of calling power, but unfortunately inhaled a lot of dust as well. "Mrs. Ash-choo! Achoo! Achoo!"
My sneezes always come in threes, but the third one in this case was particularly hard--hard enough to knock me out of the bush and onto the cold marble floor. I wasn't seriously hurt, but my jig was up.
"You ain't no angel," Johnny roared.
"Johnny, angel," I said repeatedly as I scrambled to my feet. Perhaps if I set the words to music I'd have the beginning of a hit rock-and-roll song.
"Get out now, before I call the police!"
I got. In more ways than one. As I hobbled through the rest of the lobby and out the foyer, I stuffed my purse with all manner of free brochures. I know, that was childish of me, and it was a very nongreen way of getting back at Mr. Yoder, and it certainly did nothing to retaliate against Johnny Ashton or the "really big guy," but it obviously served a need in me at the time.
What's more, after my fiasco of a visit to the bank, I began to truly let go and heal. Oh, what a blessing that was. Every morning I woke up with a smile on my face, and if there wasn't already one on it, in fifteen minutes or less, the Babester could put one on that would last all day. Folks actually began to call me
cheerful
--and mean it!
But all that began to change the week that the three couples from New Jersey came to stay as guests of the inn. Need I say more?
5
Sea Turtles
Ingredients
12 ounces dry-roasted and salted macadamia nuts
1 cup flaked sweetened coconut
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1 cup brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup light corn syrup
1 cup sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
sea salt, to taste
Cooking Directions
Preheat oven to 400degF. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Place macadamia nuts in 36 clusters of 4 to 7 nuts each, 2 inches apart; set aside.
Toast coconut in oven for about 5 minutes or until lightly browned. Pulse in food processor or chop into shorter strands.
Butter the inside of a heavy 3-quart saucepan. Melt 1/2 cup butter over low heat. Add sugar, corn syrup, and sweetened condensed milk; mix well. Increase heat to medium-high and bring mixture to a boil, stirring frequently. Reduce heat to medium and continue to boil, stirring frequently until mixture reaches 244degF on a candy thermometer.
Remove saucepan from heat, stir in vanilla and coconut. Cool slightly; spoon a tablespoon of coconut caramel over each nut cluster; cool completely.
Place chocolate in a microwave-safe dish. Microwave 30 seconds on high, stir and continue to microwave in 10- to 20-second intervals, stirring after each. Chocolate should be smooth, but not warm. Dip tops of caramel-nut clusters in chocolate and sprinkle with sea salt. Place in refrigerator to set chocolate. Store in an airtight container at room temperature, separating layers with wax paper for up to 1 week.
Tip: To prevent the formation of sugar crystals in the caramel, wash down the sides of the pan using a pastry brush dipped in water.
6
The three couples from the Garden State arrived together, but in separate cars, driving caravan style. I happened to be in the dining room at the time, which has a good view of the driveway, but I didn't hear them until several of the doors slammed and the last of the folks had already piled out. By then it was already too late to see who had traveled in which car.
They say that couples grow to resemble each other over the years. I don't know if that's true or not, but for what it's worth, Gabe still had his hair, teeth, and just one chin, and folks often said that we made a good couple. But the couples that spilled out of the expensive Jersey vehicles were an odd mix of shapes, sizes and ages, none of which seemed to go together.
Nonetheless, a hostess has to do what a hostess has to do. I snatched a starched white apron from a hook behind the check-in desk on my way to greet them, tied it on with practiced hands, and arranged my lips in a fair approximation of a warm, inviting smile.
"
Gut Marriye
," I said in honest-to-goodness Pennsylvania Dutch, but from then on, I faked it with a made- up accent. "
Velcommen to zee PennDeutsch Inn
.
Deed yousen pipple hobben a gut treep?"
"Yah, yah, eet vas yoost vonderful! Zee cat's payamas, yah?" A woman who looked very much like Barbara Bush during her White House years stepped regally toward me. She could easily have been the mother--or grandmother--of anyone there.
I gulped. "Uh, ma'am," I whispered, "I don't really speak Pennsylvania Dutch."
"Neither do I. But listen, you twit. If this bunch catches on that you're a fake, they'll take their money elsewhere. We may look like a motley crew, but we came here for a genuine slice of Americana--just like it said in your brochure." She pulled one of my brochures from her Hermes bag.
There are times when one is taken aback, and there are times that one wishes to take back, but I had been in the biz too long for either of those scenarios to come into play that day. I straightened my apron, felt to see if my prayer cap was still securely in place, and then licked my pale, unadorned lips.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I said loudly and clearly in my plain old American accent, "welcome to the PennDutch Inn. I am Magdalena Yoder, the proprietress, and I am a genuine Mennonite whose grandparents were Amish, as were their ancestors before them. I will let you shake my hand for a dollar."
There were no takers.
I plunged on. "The inn in which you will be staying for the coming week is an exact reproduction of the Mennonite farmhouse in which I was born." I raised my hand to silence some murmurs. "The original was destroyed by a tornado eight years ago. And before you get your bloomers in a bunch, I assure you that when I say 'exact,' that's what I mean. The current inn was built on the original foundation and everything was faithfully reproduced, including the urine stains in Great Uncle Leonard's bedroom--may he rest in peace.
"How many of you wish to experience the Amish Lifestyle Plan Option--or ALPO, as I affectionately call it? For a measly one hundred bucks more a day you get to make your own beds, clean your own rooms,
and
the piece de resistance--muck out the barn."
"Hey," a carrot-topped man hollered, and practically in my face, "I thought it was only sixty-five dollars extra."
"It was, dear, but then I got to thinking: the more that one pays for something, the more it is that one is likely to appreciate it. It is my heartfelt desire that you treasure your stay here."
"Bull droppings," the white-haired woman in pearls growled.