Weddings at Promise Lodge Page 5

  “Me, neither. I’m guessing Mattie will set him straight pretty soon, or tell him to settle things with Monroe.” Rosetta measured brown sugar and shortening into a mixing bowl and began creaming them with her hand-cranked mixer. “Feels kind of odd when I walk past Mattie’s empty apartment upstairs.”

  “Jah, it sure does.” Christine stirred her fruit mixture until it was thick, then took her pan off the stove. “Have you figured out what’ll happen with the apartments after you marry Truman? I’m assuming you’ll move into his house then.”

  Butterflies fluttered in Rosetta’s stomach as she added more ingredients to her cookie dough. “We’ll be discussing that soon,” she replied softly. “And although I like Truman’s mamm just fine, it’ll feel strange to live in Irene’s house. When I took her home from our picnic last fall, I got the impression that she’s crammed a lot of furniture into the house. And sharing a room with a man—now that will take some getting used to!”

  “All the more reason for you to stay here at the lodge!” Beulah called out as she came down the back stairway. “Why, if you and Christine get hitched and move out, Ruby and I will be rolling around this place like two peas in a shoe box.”

  “Whatcha cookin’?” Ruby chimed in as she took her apron from a wall peg.

  Rosetta smiled at the two Kuhn sisters. Beulah was wearing a red plaid dress, and Ruby’s dress of bright pink and green stripes made her look younger than the age to which she admitted. “Would you believe we’ve gone through all those bars and goodies we baked for Mattie’s wedding?” she remarked. “I’m mixing up a double batch of chocolate chip cookies—”

  “And I’m making cranberry-date bars,” Christine added. “With all the fruit and oatmeal in them, we can almost call them health food.”

  Beulah peered into the bowl as Christine drizzled melted butter over the ingredients for the bars’ crust. “Sure glad to see that butter going into them,” she teased. “At my age, I’ve decided to go for the gut stuff.”

  “Jah,” Ruby agreed as she pulled more mixing bowls from the cabinet. “Beulah and I have a pact to die happy rather than skinny. Life’s short, so we prefer to eat dessert first!”

  “We’ve got Roman and Mary Kate tying the knot later this month, so I’m all for baking the bars and pies for their wedding dinner now. That way we can focus on the main meal a few days before the ceremony.” Beulah surveyed the baking staples in the pantry and then opened the main freezer. “Might be a gut idea to make a trip to town after lunch,” she remarked. “We can stock up on chicken and all the fixings for that wedding meal—just in case a snowstorm keeps us from shopping later in the week.”

  Rosetta began to spoon dollops of dough onto a cookie sheet. “We should ask Mary Kate and Roman if they have any favorite dishes they want for their wedding dinner. And while we’re shopping, we could load up on baking supplies and canned goods—and even meat—as a nice wedding gift for them.”

  “Or here’s another thought,” Christine said, spreading the cranberry date filling over its crust. “We could stop at the butcher shop in Forest Grove and order a quarter of beef and half a hog for their freezer.”

  “That’s a better idea! Count me in on that, and we’ll ask Mattie about it, too,” said Rosetta. She put two sheets of cookies into the oven, smiling as the Kuhn sisters began gathering ingredients so they could start baking, as well.

  “Ruby and I will give them a certificate gut for a year’s supply of cheese from our factory,” Beulah said as she measured flour into a large bowl.

  “And honey, too,” Ruby added happily. “I’ll set a few big jars back for them—a gift from my little bees, even though they’re wintering in their hives now. Come spring, I bet they’ll be glad to have so many apple trees to pollinate—thanks to your Truman, for the way he cleared out the underbrush and pruned the trees.”

  Rosetta’s cheeks prickled with warmth. She wasn’t yet used to folks considering him her Truman, but it had a nice ring to it. “And what would we have done without his help and heavy equipment, taking down dead trees and laying out the road after we moved here?”

  “I knew from the first moment we met you and Truman—that night last summer when we arrived with our suitcases,” Ruby recalled with a smile, “that you two were meant for each other. I’m so glad your new bishop has agreed to marry the two of you—”

  “And happy that Monroe’s taken such a shine to Christine, too!” Beulah put in. “It’s a lot more fun to plan these parties for you lovebird couples than to think about getting hitched myself. I’d rather make a dozen pies before breakfast every morning than pick up after a man and tolerate his rules and moods.”

  “Amen, sister!” Ruby chimed in. “But it’s gut that so many folks are pairing up and having families, or Promise Lodge would turn into an old folks’ home.”

  Rosetta and Christine laughed. Soon Christine’s daughters joined them and the kitchen smelled like warm chocolate and cherries. Phoebe and Laura prepared fruit fillings for the piecrusts Beulah was rolling out, and by noon eight warm pies were cooling on the counter, and Ruby had baked the heart-shaped layers for Roman and Mary Kate’s tiered wedding cake, as well.

  Rosetta smiled at the results of their morning’s work as she plucked a chocolate chip cookie from the plate they shared with some of Christine’s cranberry-date bars. “Many hands make light work, ladies,” she said as she passed the plate around. “I’m ready for a quick sandwich and a trip to Forest Grove.”

  “Jah, let’s do it!” Beulah closed her eyes over the rich sweetness of cranberry-date filling and oatmeal crust, her face creased with thought. “But if the six of us crowd into a big buggy, where will we put our groceries?”

  “I want to get some yarn at Nina’s Fabrics,” Laura said eagerly.

  “And I’ll buy some material to make a quilt for Roman and Mary Kate’s wedding present,” Phoebe put in. “We can all work on it these next couple of weeks.”

  Christine’s face lit up. “Monroe’s big rig has a hitch on the back—”

  “And we’ve got your wagon in the barn,” Rosetta put in. “I say we feed the bishop and ask him to drive us into town. He can help us load our supplies into the wagon and then carry them in for us, too. How can he resist a shopping trip with six charming women like us?”

  * * *

  When Monroe clucked at Clyde, the buggy and wagon rolled along the snow-packed road toward the county highway. Although he’d been jotting plans for moving his Clydesdales and equipment from Illinois and hadn’t planned on leaving the house, he was happy to drive Christine and the other ladies into town. The afternoon sunshine made the snow-covered hills and trees sparkle, and the laughter in his double-sized rig lifted his spirits. Christine’s girls and the Kuhns were seated in the back, discussing plans for their crochet club and Roman Schwartz’s upcoming wedding. With Rosetta and Christine sharing the front seat, the tight fit meant that Christine was seated slightly forward to allow room for everyone’s shoulders, with her hip pressed firmly against his thigh.

  Even in her heavy black coat and matching bonnet, she enticed him. To keep his thoughts from wandering into dangerously delectable territory, Monroe glanced at Rosetta. “Do you suppose Truman would be willing to help me transport my Clydesdales here after my barns are built?” he asked. “I know where I can get some big stock trailers, but my friends in Illinois don’t drive trucks.”

  Rosetta’s face lit up at the mention of her fiancé’s name. “Truman’s got three big trucks he uses for his landscaping business,” she replied. “If you can move your Clydesdales before spring, when his crew goes back to full-time work, he could probably supply two other drivers to help you, as well.”

  Monroe’s eyes widened. If he had that many drivers, he could probably get his horses, equipment, and household furnishings moved in one trip. “What do his employees do during the winter? I can’t imagine Truman paying men for the months they’re not able to do any landscaping.”

  “Ah, but the
y have snow removal work for the businesses in Forest Grove and a couple other towns,” Christine said. “Those big trucks have blades on them now. It didn’t take Truman but an hour to clear our road and the paths to our barns after that last big snowstorm.”

  Monroe nodded. The more he heard about Truman Wickey, the happier he was to have the Mennonite living next door to Promise Lodge. “I’ll have a chat with him. If he’d be willing to help with my move, my plans to relocate would be a lot simpler than hiring English drivers.”

  After he parked beside the Forest Grove Mercantile, he helped all the women from the buggy. They agreed to complete their shopping in about an hour and a half, and then hurried across the street toward the grocery store and the fabric shop. Monroe chuckled at the way they nattered about what they were going to buy. In their winter wraps, they reminded him of a flock of chattering crows—but he knew better than to tell them that.

  Monroe ambled across the parking lot toward the mercantile’s lumber store to discuss the building materials he’d need for his barns, his house, and his pasture fence. Last week he’d called the Illinois carpenter who’d constructed his uncle’s barns, and he’d received the basic drawings and dimensions in the mail, along with a list of supplies so Amos, Marlin, and the other men could duplicate those facilities for him here. He’d studied the house he was renting until Floyd Lehman’s brother, Lester, returned to Promise Lodge, and he was impressed with its solid construction and craftsmanship.

  As he imagined two large red barns in the pasture, set off by a white plank fence, and the pretty brunette with whom he hoped to share his new home, he felt warm all over. His decision to move to Missouri had been made on impulse, yet it was clear that God had given him the go-ahead to move to Promise Lodge when he’d read Rosetta’s ad in the Budget.

  After Monroe ordered lumber for the house and pasture fence, metal roofing for his barns, and the other supplies he would soon need, he drove the wagon across the street. The women were checking out of the grocery store, with Laura and Phoebe to help wheel their loaded carts out to the curb. Their fifty-pound bags of flour, boxes of other baking staples, canned goods, and sewing supplies filled half of the wagon, and they all thanked Monroe repeatedly for his help.

  He smiled at Christine as the other women climbed into the buggy. “Do I dare hope to be invited in for a piece of one of those pies I saw at lunch?” he asked. “They should be cool enough to eat by now, right?”

  Her smile did crazy things to his insides. “You’ll have to ask Beulah,” she teased. “She’s freezing those pies to serve at Roman and Mary Kate’s wedding. But even if she says no, I’d be happy if you’d come for supper—nothing fancy, understand, but we’ll concoct something you won’t mind eating.”

  Monroe laughed at her understatement. Sitting across the supper table from Christine—even with the other ladies present—promised to be a fulfilling end to his day . . . a foretaste of the contentment and joy he hoped would be his for years to come.

  Chapter Six

  The day before Roman and Mary Kate’s wedding, Christine, Rosetta, and Mattie were making bread while the Kuhn sisters prepared a large bin of the calico slaw the bride had requested. In the dining room, Laura and Phoebe were draping long white cloths over the tables, getting ready to set out the plates and silverware, while in the meeting room, Preacher Amos, Bishop Monroe, and Truman set up the new pew benches Amos and Eli had built the previous week. The aroma of seasoned chicken and warm yeast filled the large kitchen—and made Christine’s stomach rumble loudly.

  Rosetta chuckled as she placed dough into six bread pans that were held together by a metal plank. “Time for a snack?” she teased her sister. “With all the gut smells surrounding us, it’s a wonder all of our tummies aren’t grumbling.”

  Christine pinched the seam on the bottom of the honey whole wheat loaf she’d shaped. “The egg muffins I ate this morning are gone,” she remarked. “But I hope you make those again, Mattie. They were really cheesy and gut.”

  Mattie smiled at her two younger sisters. “I like that recipe because you can make a dozen or two at once, ahead of time, and warm them the next day,” she said. “They must’ve been a hit with Amos and Monroe, too, considering how they’re all gone.”

  “And because we’ve got chickens to supply our eggs, and cheese from the Kuhns’ factory,” Christine pointed out as she filled another pan with dough, “they don’t cost us much to make.”

  Beulah took a big pot of boiled chicken off the stove. “After lunch, let’s cut our day-old bread into cubes for stuffing. The meal will be a lot easier to finish tomorrow morning if we have the chicken and stuffing already mixed in the pans. I really appreciate you sisters giving us so much help.”

  “And it’s gut to have you with us today, Mattie,” Christine said as she placed her bread pans in the hot oven. “We’ve missed having you around since you hitched up with Amos.”

  “But we can’t help enjoying that rosy-cheeked happiness that’s lit up your face,” Rosetta remarked. “Marriage agrees with you, I think.”

  Mattie’s face turned pinker. “Well, it’s different, cooking three meals a day and keeping up the house without all of you ladies to help,” she admitted softly. “But compared to what I endured while Marvin was going downhill with his diabetes, living with Amos is heaven on earth. He’s gentle and kind—”

  “And he’s crazy about you,” Rosetta added happily. She was pleased to have her eldest sister put memories of Marvin’s abuse behind her, knowing Mattie was much better off in her second marriage.

  “Jah, it’s a real pleasure to see Amos all healed from his accident, hale and hearty—and happy—again,” Christine said. “You two are an inspiration to us all, Mrs. Troyer. Examples of how God’s love and a fresh start can totally change lives.”

  “Hello?” someone called from the lobby. “Okay if I come in?”

  “Hi, there!” Phoebe replied from the dining room. “We’re so busy getting ready for a wedding, we didn’t hear you come in.”

  Christine brushed her floury hands on her apron as she passed between the tables in the dining room. She smiled at the attractive young blonde who was removing her black bonnet. “How can we help you?” she asked. “I’m Christine Hershberger—and these are my girls, Phoebe and Laura. If you’re looking to rent an apartment here, my sister Rosetta’s in charge of that.”

  The young woman gazed around the large dining room at the tables draped in white tablecloths. “Wow,” she murmured. “Looks like you’re having quite a party. Do—do you need dinner rolls or pies, by any chance?” she asked as she picked up the covered basket she’d set on the floor.

  Christine smiled, waving her toward the kitchen. “We’ve been baking our breads this morning, and our pies are all made, denki. But do come in! Let me hang your coat so we don’t get flour on it.”

  As she draped the young woman’s heavy black wrap over a peg near the kitchen door, Christine figured their visitor was about Phoebe’s age, and Mennonite. She wore a calf-length cape dress of blue tweed, and her circular white kapp covered only the bun she wore high on her crown. She was slim and very pretty, with big blue eyes that sparkled in a flawless face.

  “These are the gals who’re making the lodge smell so wonderful-gut,” Christine began, gesturing to each woman in turn. “Beulah and Ruby Kuhn rent apartments upstairs, and these are my sisters, Rosetta and Mattie.”

  “I’m Maria Zehr, from Cloverdale—a few miles up the road that runs past your entry,” their guest said. She set her basket on the worktable as she looked around. “Now this is a kitchen!”

  “Promise Lodge used to be a church camp, so dozens of kids at a time were fed here,” Rosetta explained. “We’ve converted several of the rooms upstairs into apartments. If you’re interested, I’ll take you up to look around.”

  Maria’s smile expressed excitement mingled with hesitation. “Jah, I recall when this place was hopping with all manner of campers, back when I was a kid,” s
he murmured. “I’m glad you’ve brought the place to life again, and—and I’m wondering if I can relocate my bakery to Promise Lodge and live here. I think my business would be a lot more profitable here, because of all the businesses you Plain folks have started up.”

  “A bakery?” Rosetta murmured, her eyes alight with interest. “We have a cheese factory, a dairy, a barrel factory, and a produce stand—and we’ll soon have a nursery and a garden center and stables of Clydesdales,” she added. “I’ll have to say, however, that our menfolk will be building three houses and the garden center and barns before they’ll have time to construct a bakery building—”

  “Oh, I have a small building,” Maria interrupted excitedly, “and it sits on a concrete slab. I’ve talked with guys who can load it onto a big flatbed, so all the walls and the roof will remain sturdy while they drive it down the road and place it on a new slab.”

  “Oh my, that’ll be something to see,” Mattie said as she wiped her hands on a towel. “So you’re probably just wanting to buy enough property for your bakery building? And you’ll live in an apartment?”

  “Well . . .” Maria’s face clouded over. “Once I pay to move the building, I’m not sure I’ll be able to afford any property—but I’d pay rent for some,” she added. “Maybe we could roll my apartment and property rents into one payment each month?”

  Christine exchanged glances with her two sisters. “That’s probably a workable idea. We’ll have to figure out where to put your building and what to charge for—”

  “Can I put it next to that little building by the barn?” Maria pointed out the kitchen window. “Seems to me that folks coming to that place will quite likely shop at mine, as well.”

  “That’s our cheese factory,” Ruby said. “Business is really slow now that winter’s set in, but this spring—when the produce stand opens—we’ll have more customers.”