“Oh, I think we should go for a full-sized kitchen,” Martha Maude insisted as she turned Jo’s diagram so she could see it better. “Any group who’d hold a family gathering there would want to be able to cook.”
“I agree,” Bishop Jeremiah said as he stood behind Gabe to look at the diagram. “We might have to check health department rules for compliance on that, but I can already smell the cinnamon rolls and imagine folks sitting and chatting over their coffee. Most likely, it’ll be a place for husbands to gather while their wives spend their money in the shops!”
Laughter filled the bishop’s kitchen as Gabe pointed to a section of the floor plan. “I want the two spots in this corner for Flaud Furniture,” he said. “I’ll fill out my rental form right now.”
“I think your kitchen should be right here across from the main entry, Jo,” Molly put in, pointing to the spot. “It’ll be centrally located that way, close to where you want to serve refreshments—”
“And the restrooms could be in this tack storage area that sticks out from the back of the building,” Glenn suggested. “Close enough to share the water pipes and drainage system the kitchen would need, yet separate from the eating area.”
“Pencil that in!” Jo said. “These are great ideas!”
“Jah, they are,” Gabe agreed enthusiastically. “Dat’s been talking about this place a lot the past few days, so I’ll convince him that we should provide some basic tables and chairs for this central area. It’ll be gut advertisement for us, after all.”
“And if you build them, we know they’ll be top-notch,” Jo said.
Lydianne pointed to the words Jo had carefully written at the top of the diagram. “Is this what you think we should call our new shops—The Marketplace at Morning Star?”
“Or just The Marketplace, for short.” Jo glanced at the folks around the table to gauge their reactions. “Maybe somebody else has a better idea—”
“It has a nice ring to it,” Marietta said as her slender face lit up with a big smile. “The Marketplace.”
“Simple, but it states our case,” Gabe chimed in with a nod.
“I like it!” Glenn put in. “How about if I build signs to mount on the front and the side of the building that faces the road, as well as one to post on the fence—assuming we plan to keep that slat fence and the gate.”
Everyone got quiet, thinking.
“Well, it’ll take some doing to replace the missing slats and paint that long stretch of fence,” Bishop Jeremiah said. “But we need a way to keep folks off the property during the week when the shops aren’t open.”
“Jah, and if it’s kept the place secure for the Clementi family these past few years, it’ll probably work for us,” Gabe added. “I say we include the fence renovation with the stable work.”
“I’m gut with that,” Jo agreed. “And I think we should open at nine and close at five. It’ll give us time to set up our shops beforehand, and we’ll still have the evening to take care of things at home before Sunday comes.”
“And we agree to have Glenn make the signs?” the bishop asked.
As everyone nodded, Jo felt a real sense of accomplishment. Their committee members were already working well together, and the church leaders were solidly behind this new venture. Glenn, Gabe, Martha Maude, and Molly were filling out rental agreements for their stalls, so Jo reached for a blank form, too.
When she realized how quiet Regina had been—and noticed some papers sticking out of her folder—Jo gently elbowed her redheaded friend. “Have you spoken with your artist friend, Regina?” she asked as she looked around the table. “Has anyone thought of other potential shopkeepers we should invite?”
Regina opened the plain brown folder. “He—he sent along a few samples, and he says it’s okay if you don’t think his paintings will fit in, what with the rest of the shops carrying Amish products—”
“Ooh, look at this little squirrel with his cheeks full of food!” Marietta interrupted gleefully. She reached for the painting on top of the pile. “He looks so real, you can just feel how silky his fur is!”
“I like this picture of the old broken-down barn in the field of wildflowers,” Martha Maude put in, leaning forward for a closer look. “The warmth of that sunny spring day comes right off the page.”
Within moments every person at the table had snatched up a painting. Jo was immediately attracted to a pair of cardinals in a snow-frosted cedar tree. “What kind of paintings are these?” she asked. “The details are so distinct, yet some of the colors blur together.”
“These are watercolors,” Regina explained. “None of them are framed, so he wasn’t sure folks would be as inclined to buy them—”
“Frames are a matter of personal taste,” Glenn put in. “And his pictures might be easier to display without frames on them.”
“And you could offer frames in your shop, Glenn,” Gabe pointed out quickly.
Regina was nodding, yet she seemed doubtful. “Is it all right if he’s English, then? Do you think the preachers will object—especially if all the shop spaces fill up and we have to turn away Plain shopkeepers?”
Bishop Jeremiah considered this question as he looked over everyone’s shoulders to study each painting in turn. “Your friend paints nature scenes—renderings of God’s creation,” he summarized softly. “We still have several spaces open, so I’d like to give him a chance. I suspect customers will have the same immediate reaction to his paintings that we’ve had.”
“Me too,” Jo agreed. “Why not take a rental form, Regina? If he needs time to decide, that’s all right. That said, we need to figure out a date when we’ll be open for business. Any idea how much time the renovation might take?”
Bishop Jeremiah chuckled. “If we set a date, Pete—and whoever else helps—will have a reason to get moving on the work.” He went to the wall calendar and flipped its pages. “June first is a Saturday. If the congregation votes yes on Sunday, May fifth, can we be ready in about a month?”
“We should make the most of the summertime, when we’ll have more daylight hours,” Gabe replied. “If we wait too long to open, we might lose our momentum—”
“And it’ll mean Pete has to apply himself right off the bat,” the bishop remarked as he glanced out the front window. He smiled at Jo. “As for where he’ll live, would you and your mamm consider renting him your dawdi haus? I know you have tourist traffic in the summertime—”
“No! Mamm will fry my hide if I agree to that,” Jo blurted.
The kitchen got quiet, as though folks were startled by the tone of her immediate response.
Bishop Jeremiah nodded. “I didn’t want your mamm to think I’d passed her over with my offer of paying Pete’s rent through the summer,” he said. “But I can understand why she wouldn’t think of him as the ideal tenant.”
Marietta and Molly were looking at each other, communicating without the need for words in that special way twins had.
“Would it be proper for Pete to stay in one of our dawdi hauses?” Marietta asked.
“Mamm had a second one built to allow for the renters we get during the mud sales and auctions,” Molly reminded everyone, “but sometimes—”
“It would be nice if one of them was bringing in a steady income this summer,” Marietta finished. “As long as Pete understands that we only provide breakfast—”