She smiled at the grudging admission. “Ach, you were afraid the place would be full of chattering women, ain't so?”
His gaze met hers again, and his face relaxed into the first real smile she'd seen from him, crinkling his eyes and making him look years younger all at once. Her heart seemed to give a few extra beats. She'd think a smile like that would have women lining up to relieve Caleb of his single state.
“Looks like I didn't do such a gut job of hiding my feelings.”
“Not very.” She ought to wipe the silly grin from her face, but she couldn't seem to manage it. “I could use a few chattering women in here. It's been quieter than I expected.”
“For me, as well.” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “It seems like most folks are a bit more cautious with their money these days, Englisch and Amish.”
She nodded. The Amish tried to live as independently as possible, but everyone was affected by the economy, especially those in business.
“Maybe this wasn't the best of times for starting a new business,” she admitted. “But the opportunity opened up, and I was ready for a new challenge.”
He was studying her face with an intentness that made her nervous, as if he was trying to see through to her motives. “You like a challenge, do you, Katie?”
“I do.” She lifted her chin. “I'd rather start my own place and fail than spend my life wondering what would have happened if I'd not tried.”
He tilted his head a little, as if weighing her words. “Weren't you in business with your mamm before?”
“I worked in her shop. But it was hers, not mine.” Could he possibly understand the difference?
He nodded slowly. “Ja. You wanted to see how your ideas would work.”
“Exactly.” She found herself more in charity with Caleb than she had since the day they'd met. “But if I don't get some more Englisch coming in here, I'm afraid all the ideas in the world won't help me.”
“Englisch?” He looked startled for a moment, but then he nodded. “Ja, I see. Amish aren't likely to buy a quilt from a shop.”
“They're the sellers. Like your mamm.” She lifted the top quilt off, revealing a baby quilt done in the softest of pinks, blues, and yellows. “Ach, this baby quilt would sell for sure, if only we get some tourists coming through this summer.”
She carried the first quilt toward the bed on which she displayed quilts, and was a little surprised when Caleb moved to help her.
“Can't say I'm eager to see any tourists,” he said, taking one end of the quilt and helping her spread it across the bed. “Peeking into windows and wanting to take your picture.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to point out the money tourists brought to the area, but maybe it would be best to back away from the subject. She didn't want to destroy this new amity between them by arguing.
Seen spread out to its full width, the Sunshine and Shadows quilt was even more inspiring. “Wonderful,” she breathed. “Did your mamm make this recently?”
“Last year, I think. Mamm hasn't done any quilting since the fall.”
“No? Winter is usually a fine time for quilting, once the other work is done.”
He hesitated, staring down at the quilt, and she had a sense he was wondering how much to say to her. She studied the strong, averted face with its broad cheekbones and square, hard jaw. A little muscle twitched under the skin near his mouth, a testament to his indecision, and she found she wanted him to speak.
“Daad passed in the fall,” he said finally. “Since then, Mamm has been . . .” He hesitated, plainly searching for the word. “A little lost, and not feeling well herself. She hadn't taken an interest in much of anything until she heard about your shop.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Katie said quietly, trying not to imagine what her life would be like without her daad's steady presence. “You must be worried about your mamm.”
“Ja.” He paused again, still not looking at her. “I like it fine that she's excited about quilting again. I just don't want her to try to do too much.”
Was that comment aimed at her? Katie wasn't sure. “I wouldn't urge her to overdo,” she said cautiously. “But if she wants to quilt again, that's a gut thing, for sure.”
She felt an urge to touch him, to reassure him, but she pressed her hands against her sides, remembering all too clearly what had happened the last time they'd touched.
“Ja,” he said finally. “I hope so.” He met her eyes then, his gaze probing and serious. He jerked his head toward the back room at a peal of laughter from the girls. “Your coming here has changed things, Katie Miller. I just hope all the changes are gut ones.”
Caleb took a step away from Katie, wondering at himself. Now, why had he said that? He was trying to stay away from the woman, not confide in her.
And telling her all his concerns about Mammâwell, how ferhoodled could he be? Katie was just a little too easy to talk to, with that quick interest that sprang to life in her dark blue eyes and the warm sympathy that filled her face.
Maybe having her shop next door to his hadn't presented some of the problems he'd expected, but it seemed Katie was creating new ones.
Katie cleared her throat, and he had the sense that she was looking for something less personal to talk about.
“Ach, I just remembered a question I wanted to ask you. I was wondering if you have any quilt racks in stock just now. Becky mentioned that you made one for her.”
He nodded. Quilt racks was a safer subject of conversation. “Ja, I have a couple of them.”
“Maybe you'd be interested in putting one of yours in the archway between the shops, and I could display a quilt on it.” The enthusiasm was back in her face again, and when her face lit that way, it was nearly beautiful. “It might draw the customers' attention to both your wares and mine.”
Maybe she hadn't believed him when he'd said he didn't depend on gimmicks to sell his pieces. “I don't think that Iâ” He stopped when the bell over her shop door jangled.
“We'll talk about it later,” she said, all her attention focused on the man who came in. With his plaid shirt and tan pants, a ball cap pushed back on his bald head, he looked like an Englisch tourist ready to buy something.
Caleb knew better. He'd seen this particular Englischer beforeâBennett Hargrove, his name was. He owned a couple of shops in bigger towns, and he came through Pleasant Valley a few times a year, looking to buy Amish-made goods to resell.
Katie approached the man, greeting him pleasantly in Englisch, asking if she could help him find something.
Caleb frowned. Seemed like Katie should know she was talking to a dealer, not just a casual shopper.
It wasn't up to him to interfere. He kept it to himself. It was none of his business.
But he couldn't quite manage to walk away, either. Hargrove was a shrewd bargainer, always intent on getting Amish-made goods as cheaply as possible. And Katie, for all her talk of the shop she'd helped her mother run, might find herself in difficulty dealing with him.
Hargrove wandered along the counter, looking dismissively at the various pieces Katie had displayed. He stopped when he reached the baby quilt Caleb's mother had made.
“Now, this might be something I'd be interested in.” He lifted the quilt, shaking it out to its full length. “For a gift, you know.”
Katie nodded, catching the quilt before its edge could touch the floor. “It is a lovely piece for a nursery. Made by a gifted local quilter. The design . . .”
Hargrove chuckled. “Don't know much about quilts, or need to. But like I say, I might give it as a gift. If the price is right, that is.” He flipped over the edge as if looking for a tag.
“This piece just came into the store today,” Katie said. “It is not marked yet, but it is priced at two hundred dollars.”
“Two hundred dollars? What's it made of, gold?” Hargrove let go of the quilt. “I can't spend that much on a gift.”
“Think of the hours of work that went into it.” Katie folded the crib quilt, her hands gentle. She held it for a moment against the blue dress she wore, as if it were wrapped around a boppli. “Look at the fine stitching, all done by hand. It's not just a baby quilt. It's an heirloom, something a mother will pass on to a daughter.”
“Very nice.” Hargrove stepped back, brushing his hands together as if to say he was finished. “My niece would be happy to have it, with the new baby coming and all, but I can't afford that price. Now, if you said seventy-five dollars . . .”
Katie didn't look at Caleb, but he seemed to know what she was thinking. She hadn't made much money in her first week, judging by what he'd seen, and maybe any sale was better than no sale.
“It may be for his niece.” He surprised himself with his own words, spoken quickly in Pennsylvania Dutch so that Hargrove wouldn't understand. “But he is a dealer with a couple of shops of his own. Buys cheap and sells dear, so people say.”
Katie's face warmed with gratitude. “Ja, denke, Caleb.”
“Something wrong?” Hargrove looked from one to the other, his eyes narrowing.
“No, not at all.” Katie had switched back to Englisch, her voice firm. “The price is two hundred. Now, if you're interested in taking some pieces on commission for your shop . . .” She let that trail off.
Hargrove's lips tightened to a thin line, and he shot an annoyed glare at Caleb. “I don't deal in commissions. Never have, never will. And if you want to make a success of this place, you won't, either.”
“It is a way that is fair to the quilter,” she said mildly.
“It's a good way to go broke,” he snapped. He turned, stomping toward the door. “Suit yourself. Your place will go belly-up before the year's out, anyway. Not enough traffic through this out-of-the-way place.”
He grabbed the door and yanked it open, the bell jangling furiously. “Let me know when you have your going-out-of-business sale. Maybe I'll buy something.” He punctuated the words with a slam of the door.
For a moment silence filled the shop.
“Well.” Katie let out a long breath. “I hope I don't have many visitors like that.”
Her tone was light, but Caleb saw her fingers press against the countertop until they were white.
“You don't want to listen to somebody like Hargrove.” He wasn't very good at finding comforting words to say. “You'll do fine.”
“I hope so.” But the confidence was lost from her voice. None of his business, Caleb reminded himself. Still, he had to do something.
“I'll go and get that quilt rack,” he said. “Which quilt do you want to hang on it?”
Her gaze met his, and the sparkle came back into her eyes. “Ach, your mamm's baby quilt, of course. What else?”
CHAPTER FOUR
T
his
feels familiar, ain't so?” Molly tilted her head toward the grounds around the township fire hall, her dimples showing when she smiled. “You had Mud Sales at home, I'm sure.”
“Ja, you're right.” Katie glanced across the grassy area, already turning muddy from all the people who crowded around stalls selling everything from plants to funnel cakes to the latest kitchen gadgets. “Except there I knew everyone.”
She wished the words back immediately, reminding herself that “everyone” included Eli and Jessica.
Molly squeezed her arm. “You'll soon get to know folks here.”
“For sure.” She pinned on a smile.
Aaron, Molly's oldest brother, caught up with them. “What are you looking to buy today, Cousin Katie? A pan of sticky buns or a vegetable chopper or a new harrow? Whatever it is, someone has it.”
Her smile broadened. Aaron's happiness was contagious as he looked forward to his fall wedding to Sarah Mast, the midwife. “I don't think I need anything, but you are the one to shop today,” she said. “You'll be setting up housekeeping with Sarah at the birthing center before long. There must be some things you both need.”
Aaron's face gentled, as it always did at the mention of his intended. “Sarah's aunt has lived in the house for so long that it's well-furnished. Still, Aunt Emma will be moving furniture into the grossdaadi haus once it's finished, and we might need a few things.”
Aaron, a carpenter, was building an addition to the old house for Sarah's aunt, a semi-retired midwife who still helped out with the births.
“Go along with you.” Molly flapped her hand at her brother. “You know you want to check out what they have at the auction. And if you see Jacob, tell him I'll take the boppli whenever he wants.”
Nodding, Aaron moved off through the crowd.
“I think everybody in the township is here today,” Molly said, nodding to an older couple who passed them. “You should have just closed the shop and let Rhoda komm, too.”
“Rhoda will have her chance this afternoon. I'll go back and take over for her.”
That arrangement had not been to Rhoda's liking, since she'd wanted to spend the whole day at the sale with her new friends. But Katie hadn't been able to get the words of that Englisch dealer out of her mind, try as she might. He was convinced she would fail, and her dwindling bank account only reinforced that idea. Even if she made only one sale today, she had to stay open.
“Look, there is Rachel Zook's stand. Komm, we must say hello.”
Katie let herself be tugged along by her cousin. She knew full well what Molly was doing. She was determined that Katie should meet everyone, make friends, and be happy here.