Within the next few minutes, the Helfing twins and Lydianne arrived, and so did Glenn Detweiler and Gabe.
“How’s Dorcas doing? And your new baby boy?” Jo asked as the two men took their seats.
Glenn composed his answer carefully. “Levi’s better now that we’re supplementing Dorcas’s milk with some goat milk,” he replied softly. “The doctor says she’s extremely anemic. He’s put her on vitamins and told her to stay off her feet until she’s stronger. Having this baby has really depleted her body and her strength, so Mamm and Dat are helping us out. Denki for asking.”
“She’s in our prayers,” Jo murmured as the front door opened again.
In the front room, Martha Maude Hartzler exchanged pleasantries with Margaret before joining them in the kitchen, and Regina slipped in last. She was clutching a large brown folder to her chest, and her freckled cheeks appeared flushed.
“Sorry I’m late,” she murmured. “What have I missed?”
“We’re just getting started,” Bishop Jeremiah said as he took his spot at the head of the table. “I asked Pete to stop by before he went in for his shift, so we’ll see if he makes it. Considering how unreliable he can be, I hope I haven’t set us up for delays with the stable renovation—”
“But our other carpenters can help,” Gabe pointed out. “Pete’s a whiz at plumbing and ductwork, though.”
“He is,” the bishop agreed. “And I hope you understand why I’d like to guide him away from his apartment in Higher Ground and his after-work pool hall habit by involving him on this project. Shall we open with a prayer?”
Jo and the others bowed their heads as Bishop Jeremiah invoked God’s guidance. Higher Ground was a new town a few miles down the road from Morning Star. It had been hastily founded by a renegade bishop who’d been excommunicated from Willow Ridge—and who’d subsequently died—so for the local Amish, its reputation was overshadowed by a black cloud. The residents weren’t part of an organized church district anymore, which was another strike against Higher Ground.
“Amen.” The bishop held up a stack of pages. “Since our meeting on Sunday, Martin has provided for us these forms from Byler Printing, where Flaud Furniture gets their invoices and receipts. He’s also suggested that we could have them handle our advertising, both print and online.”
Glenn took a packet of forms before passing them along. “I’ve had the Bylers design flyers and a simple website for my carving business,” he remarked. “Couldn’t hurt to involve them and other Mennonites in our new project, for better exposure.”
“Jah, because it’s English shoppers we’re trying to attract,” Gabe pointed out. “Probably three-quarters of our custom furniture orders come from our online presence. We wouldn’t have nearly the reach if the Bylers weren’t maintaining a site for us.”
Jo listened carefully as she took a packet of the forms and then handed them to Molly and Regina. She was quickly realizing that her enthusiasm for the new shops wouldn’t be enough to make them successful. “I’m grateful that you fellows are sharing your experience,” she said. “These ready-made forms are helpful. How much commission do you think we should collect on our sales?”
“The shop in Willow Ridge gets ten percent,” Glenn replied as he took a pen from the center of the table. “I’ve sold several rocking chairs and toys there, and adding ten percent doesn’t raise the prices enough to discourage folks from buying them.”
“And it would equate to a tithe, if you want to get biblical about it,” Bishop Jeremiah said with a chuckle. “The tougher question is what to charge vendors for renting space with us. I’d hate to cut into their income too much, but we’ll have to cover utility payments and building upkeep, not to mention advertising expenses. Would forty dollars a month be fair? Hopefully everyone will sell enough on four Saturdays to afford ten dollars a week.”
Jo stilled. She sensed the Helfing twins were doing some mental calculations as well. She would have to sell a lot of pastries, bread, and refreshments to cover that amount and make any profit—and Mamm would consider forty dollars an exorbitant sum, because their little roadside stand didn’t cost them anything.
“Is everyone okay with me managing the refreshment area instead of paying stall rent?” she asked softly.
“And what if Marietta and I take charge of the building’s cleaning and upkeep in lieu of paying rent?” Molly asked. “I’m excited about having a shop, but we’ll have to sell several bags of dry noodles to clear forty dollars. Just saying.”
“We have other commitments to bulk stores for orders, too,” Marietta put in. “And they don’t charge us for display space.”
“I think that’s only fair,” Martha Maude stated with a nod. “You gals are supporting yourselves with your homemade products, and you’ll be investing quite a lot of time and effort to keep your shops going. Rose Wagler, Anne, and a couple of other ladies are going in on our quilt shop, so it’ll be no burden for us to come up with rent.”
“Jah, quilts sell for a lot more than noodles and cinnamon rolls,” Bishop Jeremiah agreed. “I’m fine with this arrangement. How about the rest of you?”
Jo felt greatly relieved when Glenn, Gabe, and Regina nodded their consent. It was a plus to have Deacon Saul’s mamm and his wife running a shop, because their beautiful quilts were sure to sell well—and even if they didn’t sell a single quilt, the family would still have food on their table.
Lydianne cleared her throat. “Regina mentioned something earlier that we should probably clarify before we go any further,” she said. “Bishop, you and the preachers seem very positive about opening a marketplace, but you’ve often warned us about expanding beyond the work we can do while still having time for our families. Do you see a problem with adding the commitment of this new venture to our workloads?”
“Someone has actually listened to my sermons!” Bishop Jeremiah teased before he resumed a more serious demeanor. “You’ve asked an important question, Lydianne.”
He sat back in his chair, pondering for a moment. “Because we’re setting up our marketplace to fund a new school, and as a place to hold the auctions and mud sales that support our firemen and other community causes—and because several members will be involved—I don’t feel any one family will be burdened by extra work,” he finally replied. “If the shops succeed, we Amish all benefit. If they don’t, we’ll still have a better place to build the new schoolhouse and host our outdoor auctions.”
“Even if we weren’t setting up these shops, our members would step up to cover the cost of a school,” Gabe pointed out. “We’ll be sharing the work, but nobody will lose his shirt if it doesn’t work out.”
Folks around the table nodded, and Jo agreed. She, the Helfings, and Glenn would still be supporting themselves with their handmade items even if they gave up on the shops after a while. “Chances are we could rent out the stable for parties and special events if the marketplace doesn’t succeed—or even if it does,” she added. “English and Plain folks alike would benefit, since Morning Star doesn’t have any other large halls available.”
“That’s a fine idea!” Martha Maude said as her face lit up. “It could be a place for family reunions, or even weddings and funerals for families who’ll have bigger crowds than they can handle at their homes.”
Encouraged by their progress, Jo reached into her tote bag. “I, um, sketched out my idea for how the interior of the stable might look when it’s been renovated,” she began nervously. “I envision the shops being positioned along the outer walls around an open central