The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (9 page)

Switching the “Open” placard to “Closed” in the door, she pulled the phone book from under the counter. She would order the new sign before she lost her nerve. Her husband had warned her about adding anything else to their credit card, but hadn’t she promised her partner? Because every booth and stool at the counter was usually occupied, April was confident they would have plenty of profits to pay the bill. After all, it would be weeks before it came in the mail, and a couple more before the payment’s due date.

She must stop worrying so much. This was her dream too, same as young Leah’s. One needed to take chances in life, especially to get ahead in this world. April called the sign-maker and ordered Leah’s Home Cooking with black lettering on a white background—and the man promised delivery by Independence Day. With a final check around the diner, April turned down the AC and switched off the lights. As she walked toward her truck, she noticed it was no longer the sole vehicle in the parking lot.

“Mrs. Lambright,” a voice called and a man got out of his sedan.

Her heart thudded against her chest wall as she recognized the landlord.

“Mr. Jenkins, what brings you to Winesburg? We just closed for the day.”

“I’m not here to eat. I’m here because I’ve left a couple messages on your answering machine and you’ve neglected to return my calls.” He slicked a hand through thinning hair in dire need of shampoo.

“I’m sorry about that. My husband checks the machine and sometimes erases any messages he thinks are from solicitors.” April hiked her purse higher on her shoulder and shifted her weight to the other hip.

Jenkins looked at the diner and around the yard. “How’s business?” he asked, his tone harsh and unfriendly.

“We’re off to a good start. Of course, another train car would’ve been nice. We’re limited to the number of people we can serve for lunch.”

He met her gaze with brown eyes almost hidden within the folds of surrounding skin. His face had the deep-set wrinkles of someone who never wore sunglasses. When he focused on the five wooden picnic tables, he frowned. “Those look brand new.”

“They are. We needed more seating for overflow customers, at least during the nice weather months.”

He pulled on his chin. “How is it, Mrs. Lambright, that you can afford five brand-new picnic tables but can’t afford to pay me the rent money on time? This property and those train cars are mine. You’re just renting them. You only own the business license.” He swatted at a bug on his neck.

April’s spine stiffened. “We have a two-year lease with option to purchase. I’ve put my life savings into the restoration of those train cars. When you bought them, they were close to being unsalvageable.”

“Everything is salvageable, at least to a scrap recycler. And the terms of our lease state that you make regular monthly payments. Not just send a check when you get the notion.” He scratched the spot of the bug bite.

April decided a different tack was in order. “I apologize, Mr. Jenkins. I know we signed an agreement, and I fully intend to hold up my end. I just took on a partner, one with cash to invest. You’ll have my rent check in the mail by the weekend.”

“I’d be happy to take that check right now and save you a stamp. Seeing that I made the trip from Akron and all.”

She pulled her purse off her shoulder and rummaged around inside. “Oh, dear, it looks like I left my checkbook at home today. I hurried out in a rush.” She offered a tiny smile.

“Mm-hmm,” he said without an ounce of conviction. He studied her for a moment before giving his chin one last pull. “I’ll expect that check by the weekend. And I’ve taken the liberty to tuck some pre-addressed envelopes under your wiper blades. I’d like you to use one each month and see that your payment reaches me on time.”

He glared once more before turning and shuffling back to his car.

April remained rooted until Whip Jenkins left, raising a cloud of dust. Then she marched to her pickup and plucked the stack of envelopes from the windshield. She tucked them inside her purse, along with bills from the butcher, the produce vendor, and the carpenter who had made the picnic tables.

She needed to get home and check the answering machine herself tonight. But she wouldn’t let a visit from her impatient landlord dampen her spirits.

Leah Miller had agreed to become her partner. She got along fine with that lovely young woman. Together they would turn the diner into a highly profitable enterprise.

And she prayed for that all the way home.

James Davis came to the dinner table that night not in the best of moods. The horse he bought for his buggy still remained balky, despite everything he’d tried. Riding a horse and driving a horse were two very different skills, and although he was accomplished with the former, the latter remained a total disaster. He’d had no success training any of the family’s Morgans or Arabians to pull the buggy, hence the purchase of the typical Amish standardbred. His luck had only marginally improved.

“What’s for supper,
fraa?”
he called as he washed up for dinner.

Emma met him in the mudroom with a cold drink and a warm smile. “I’ve reheated a pot of stew, steamed some broccoli, and tossed a salad of garden vegetables. I’ve been working my fingers to the bone.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’m faint with fatigue,” she teased with great drama.

He pulled her into a hug. “Oh, that’s right. Mom’s working late at the hospital and men’s Bible study is tonight for Dad. Does that mean we have the house to ourselves—a quiet dinner for two?”

“Not exactly,” she whispered, bobbing her head toward the doorway.

“Hey, bro!” His brother Kevin called from the other room. “I’m back.”

“Home from college already? Funny, you don’t look any smarter.” James walked into the kitchen and embraced his younger brother rather awkwardly.

“Maybe the smart stuff comes next semester. But for now, finals are done and I’m a free man till August.” The two men sat down at the table while Emma carried over the stew and salad. After Kevin’s update on the travails of his previous semester, James filled him in on Hollyhock Farm news.

“I didn’t see your truck in the yard. Where did you park?” James asked.

“Around the side of the house under the willow. Didn’t want the sun to fade the paint or anything.” Kevin exchanged a look with Emma before ducking his head into the refrigerator. “Things look great around here,” he said. “Your conversion to New Order certainly hasn’t hurt productivity. If anything I think the place looks better.”

“Staying home to help Dad run things has helped,” James agreed.

“You mean not spending your time taking agricultural courses in Wooster?”

“That, and the minor adjustment of not having a truck at my disposal. I get a lot more done.” He squeezed Emma’s hand affectionately.

They bowed their heads to pray before the meal, and then Emma scooped stew into three bowls while James divided up the salad.

“Your truck is running great, and I appreciate the bargain-basement price you sold it for.” Kevin began to eat heartily.

“I wish I could say the same thing about the new buggy horse I bought. That standardbred is willful, stubborn, and not too smart. If that gelding were a car, we’d call it a lemon.”

“I told you who would help you with that, Jamie,” said Emma. “But you’re letting your pride stand in the way.” She set her salad fork down.

James’ mouth dropped open. It wasn’t like Emma to speak critically, especially not in front of people. He didn’t appreciate a dressing down in front of his brother.

“I need to learn to control the horse myself, Emma. Your brother, as talented as he is, won’t make me a better handler.”

“But that’s just it. He could teach you some of his tricks, show you his methods. He’s helped his friends before with balky horses—men born and raised Amish.”

Kevin glanced up from his dinner. “Sounds like a good idea. At least it’s worth a try.”

James pulled on his beard. “The problem is that Matt lives in Winesburg and I’m down here in Charm with a buggy for transportation.”

“I’m not doing anything tonight. Why don’t I drive you up there? I haven’t seen your brother-in-law since your wedding.”

Emma’s face lit up. Before James could reply, she asked, “Could we, Jamie? I’d love to show
mamm
some of the new wool shawls I’ve made on the loom. I created the pattern myself.”

So it was decided. The three Davises finished supper, loaded the dishwasher—an appliance Emma rarely used—and headed to Winesburg, a thirty-minute trip by car. During the entire drive James tried to remember a Scripture his father used to quote when he got “too big for his britches.” But he couldn’t recall it and his annoyance with Emma grew like a seedling in the sun.

Is this what happens when you get married? The wife who once thought you capable of just about anything starts picking at minor insufficiencies without a thought of who is listening?
It wasn’t as though he didn’t know a thing or two about horses. Hollyhock Farm had bred, raised, and trained prize-winning show horses and provided countless people with quality riding mounts. Now his reputation was on the line because he bought the world’s surliest buggy horse? Fortunately, his brother kept up a steady stream of banter about the Ohio State football team so he didn’t have to engage in small talk.

Once they arrived at Emma’s parents’ home, James breathed a sigh of relief. The peaceful serenity of the Miller farm amazed him. Hollyhock was a beehive of constant activity, but here the pace was slower and calmer. Yet the Millers still managed to get chores done without livestock going hungry or the petunia bed drying up. He hoped for this atmosphere for his own home, where he and Emma would raise a family in an Amish household without the constant reminders of his former English world.

Emma kissed his cheek.
“Danki,
Jamie. You won’t be sorry you sought my
bruder’s
advice. Everyone has a special gift from God. Matthew’s is horses.” She quickly ran off toward the house, so she didn’t witness him clenching down on his back molars or notice the steam coming from his nostrils.

“Come on, little brother,” he said a moment later. “Let’s go find the horse whisperer. I apparently have plenty to learn.”

An hour later, James Davis had been duly humbled.

Matthew Miller demonstrated incredible expertise with his driving horses. In his patient, quiet manner he not only got the beast to do his bidding, but he taught James without the least bit of condescension. And he had used a horse belonging to a friend for the demonstration, not one of his own.

So nothing would bruise my ego or typical male pride. Emma was right,
he thought, feeling ashamed.

Matthew gave him plenty of pointers and then suggested that he ride back with them to Hollyhock Farms. Because tomorrow was his day off, he could spend time coaching James and his gelding. Kevin readily agreed to drive Matt back to Winesburg in time for afternoon chores.

Emma was joyous for extra time with a family member.

Kevin was happy to do anything not connected with college or textbooks.

And James? He would pick a large bouquet of flowers for his wife when they got home and maybe throw in a foot rub.

Proverbs 29:23, which he couldn’t recall during the drive to the Miller farm, popped into his head on the way back.
Pride ends in humiliation, while humility brings honor.

He would try to do better.

But it sure wasn’t easy learning how to live all over again.

June

T
he diner was booming. Just as the regular customers tired of fresh strawberry waffles and pancakes, local blueberries were ready to pick. Although neither restaurateur had time enough to visit pick-your-own farms, the berries were plentiful and fairly priced at the local market. April still didn’t have sufficient cash flow to advance a weekly stipend for baking supplies, but she paid Leah’s wages on time and insisted she keep all tips, no matter who had served the table. Leah wasn’t about to quibble over dollars and cents now that she had handed over twenty-five hundred dollars and been made a full partner.