A Simple Wish Read online

  The morning flew by. Loretta grew more confident as she waited on ladies who purchased four place settings of pottery dishes and some table linens to go with them. When Nora offered to fetch lunch from the mill store, Loretta was delighted. She’d told her sisters she wasn’t sure she’d make it home over the noon hour to share the casseroles she’d made for them—and after Dat had spoken so harshly to her, Rosalyn and Edith would understand if she stayed at the store. Because Simple Gifts was air-conditioned, with big ceiling fans whirling slowly to create some air movement, Loretta enjoyed the cool, relaxing time she spent straightening the displays while Nora went next door to the mill. She planned to suggest to Rosalyn and Edith that they come to the store with their supplies for making wreaths and baskets, if only because humid August afternoons were a lot easier to bear here than at home.

  When Nora returned, what a treat it was to spread Nazareth Hostetler’s goat cheese on slices of the zucchini bread she’d also made to sell at the mill store. Bishop Tom’s wife had been a godsend, providing goat milk for little Leroy and Louisa when powdered formula had upset their tummies, and she was a thoughtful, compassionate neighbor, too. Loretta couldn’t stand to see the last piece of the nutty, sweet zucchini bread sitting on the plate, so she snatched it up and slathered more goat cheese on it.

  “This was so delicious,” Loretta said with a satisfied moan. “Denki for sharing your lunch with me, Nora.”

  “It’s a pleasure to spend time with you, Loretta. I suspect your dat was none too happy about your coming here today.”

  “You got that right. But I’m determined to make it work.” Loretta wiped her hands on a napkin and helped Nora clear the crumbs from the worktable where they’d eaten. “How about if I go to the Schrocks’ quilting shop and buy some fabric for the rug class?” she suggested. “This afternoon I can start cutting the long strips our ladies will need—or I’ll do that whenever you don’t have something you want me to do,” she added quickly. Far be it from her to tell Nora how she was going to spend her time.

  “You’ve read my mind,” Nora replied. “And if recent sales of our quilts and your rugs tells me anything, it’s that restful shades of blue, yellow, and cream—pastels, in general—are selling really well. Then again, we also have customers who love bright, vibrant colors.”

  “I’ll go for a variety,” Loretta decided. “Who knows? Some gals might like to mix things up with splashy prints and plain-colored pastels. I’ll ask Mary and Eva Schrock what’s selling well in their store, too.”

  “Take your time, dear. I’m eager to see what you pick out—and to have you talk me through the way you make your rugs.” Nora smiled at her as though no one was more dear or special. “Consider me your first student, Loretta. It’ll be fun to sit for a bit and make fabric strips whenever we don’t have customers.”

  Loretta beamed. Nora made her feel as though she could do no wrong—as though she was actually an expert at making rugs and teaching, as well as working in the Simple Gifts store. She walked down the road past Zook’s Market with a smile on her face and a song in her heart, grateful to God for giving her life a new sense of purpose.

  * * *

  Nora was writing out checks when Rebecca Oliveri entered the store and gazed around appreciatively. “Gut to see you, girl! It’s been too long,” she called out.

  Rebecca came toward the worktable with a laptop tucked under one arm, carrying a camera in her other hand. “You won’t believe how busy I’ve been designing websites for local folks. I just finished a simple one to advertise Adam Wagler’s home-remodeling business, and this morning I updated the Detweiler Furniture Works site with new photos of some impressive pieces they’ve refurbished.”

  “I’ve gotten some new pieces in as well,” Nora remarked. “And Loretta Riehl’s going to be teaching classes on making her toothbrush rugs, so I’d like to put something about that on my site today.”

  “Toothbrush rugs? That’s a new one.”

  “Here—let me show you her latest. All I know is that she uses a toothbrush handle sharpened to a point as her needle, and she makes rows by passing the needle through her previous stitches.” Nora led Rebecca to the front of the store, where the Brennemans’ sleigh bed anchored a large display. “See there? It’s a rag rug of sorts. Loretta will be back with some new fabric soon—but meanwhile, we can update my site with whatever catches your fancy, Rebecca. You have a fine eye and gut instincts for what will bring folks into my store.”

  Rebecca had set her laptop on a nearby shelf and popped the lens cap from her camera. “Something tells me these rugs will be a big hit,” she said as she squatted with her camera at her eye. “And maybe a shot or two of Cornelius Riehl’s clocks? I think I’ve almost got him talked into a simple website—can you believe that?”

  Nora’s eyes widened. “I think you could sell ice packs to Eskimos, Rebecca. I hope Cornelius realizes that if he advertises online, he’s going to have to keep up with his clock repairs and make his new ones faster,” she remarked quietly. “I’ve heard a few local folks saying he’s had their clocks for a long while.”

  Rebecca’s camera clicked rapidly as she shot the rug alongside the sleigh bed, as well as the new pottery display. “He absolutely refused to let me take photos of his workshop,” she said, “even though folks would be interested in that, I think. And if he can’t accept the fact that even a basic website requires an investment of time and money on his part, he might decide not to have one.”

  “He doesn’t want to pay you?” Nora frowned. “He certainly makes enough trips fetching parts—hiring a driver—that I wouldn’t think he’d balk at paying for promotion.”

  Rebecca smiled wryly. “Don’t repeat this, but I suspect he disapproves of my being born into the Amish faith yet not joining the church—not to mention the fact that I’m a working woman who wears jeans most of the time and who shows no inclination to marry.”

  Nora’s laughter rang in the high-ceilinged store. With her tousled, collar-length brown hair and red striped blouse over denim capris, Rebecca Oliveri appeared anything but Amish—yet she always seemed upbeat and optimistic, as though her life fulfilled her perfectly. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, I think—and here’s Loretta, his middle daughter,” she added when the front door swung open. “But she’s nothing like her dat, trust me!”

  Nora approached her new employee with open arms. “Let me help you with all those sacks, girl,” she said as she relieved Loretta of the two bulging plastic bags in her right hand. “Let’s spread your fabric on the bed to see what you chose—and so Rebecca can take a picture for my website. Rebecca,” she added as she returned to the furniture display, “this is Loretta Riehl, one of our new neighbors, and my employee as of this morning! Loretta, this is the Rebecca I was telling you about earlier. The gal who’s designing websites for so many local folks.”

  Loretta appeared a bit shy, but she shook the hand Rebecca extended. “It’s gut to meet you, Rebecca. From what Nora’s told me, you’re another young woman who made a big splash when she came back to Willow Ridge.”

  “I did,” Rebecca said with a laugh. “I was also the talk of the town because I first showed up with spiked hair dyed black and black fingernails, wearing black clothing, chains, and metal jewelry,” she added. “Once I got reacquainted with my mother, however, I no longer needed to lose myself in the Goth trend. Mamma’s sunshine made me bloom as my real self.”

  Loretta’s face reflected the glow on Rebecca’s as she took folded fabric from her plastic sacks. “That’s such a wonderful story. It makes me glad we Riehls came to Willow Ridge—and now I’ll be teaching a rug-making class here in Nora’s store! Never in my life could I have imagined that.”

  “Oh, and look at these colors,” Nora put in, deftly arranging the squares of folded fabric on top of the bed. “I love these bright calico prints, and the pastels, plaids, and stripes. And all these fabrics feel nice and sturdy, for rugs that will last a long time. Will this make a good
shot, Rebecca?”

  “Fabulous,” Rebecca replied as she put her camera to her eye. “I’ll make a moving banner for your home page that will alternate between a shot of these fabrics and a notice about the classes Loretta will teach. After I get a few shots of those clocks and whatever else you want, we’ll update your site.”

  Nora slipped an arm around Loretta’s shoulders. “Come into the office and watch the way Rebecca works. She’s amazing! I’m not sure how she does this website stuff so quickly, but it always looks pretty and fresh.”

  “Computer magic,” Loretta said, and they all laughed.

  Once Rebecca had set up her laptop in the office so she could import the photographs she’d just taken, Nora watched in awe as she tweaked the pictures. When she’d brought up the Simple Gifts website, Loretta leaned forward with a low “Wow.”

  “I love working on Nora’s site,” Rebecca remarked as her fingers flew across her computer keyboard. “She always has such pretty items to display—always something new to keep her customers coming back and to catch the eye of folks who decide to visit her store for the first time.”

  “She’s welcoming without always trying to sell you stuff, too,” Loretta said, smiling at Nora. “I suspect some of her customers come in just because she’s so friendly. So upbeat and positive.”

  Nora reached over to grasp Loretta’s arm. “Denki for saying that,” she murmured. “My customers will enjoy meeting you, Loretta, because you’re very helpful and kind.”

  About half an hour later, Rebecca was testing the new revolving banner she’d added. She asked Nora to check everything before the updates went live online. “That’s perfect,” Nora said, delighted with the way her customers would see Loretta’s fabrics and the advertisement for her upcoming classes. “I’ll write out your check—and I’ll pay for those fabrics while I’m at it, Loretta.”

  Loretta handed her the receipt from the Schrocks’ quilt shop and turned her head when the bell above the door rang. “I’ll get that while you ladies finish up.”

  As her new employee strode out of the office, Nora smiled. “What do you think, Rebecca? Can you help me put in a gut word to Cornelius about his daughter working here? He’s giving her a rough time about it.”

  “I have no trouble imagining that,” Rebecca said as she closed her computer. “He reminds me of the stern, stoic—rather overbearing—Amish men I recall from very early in my life. I’m so glad the atmosphere in Willow Ridge has changed now that Tom Hostetler and Ben Hooley are the mainstays of the local church.”

  “Amen to that,” Nora remarked. As she handed Rebecca her check, she looked up at Loretta in the doorway. “Already made a sale, sweetie?”

  Loretta’s smile teased at her lips. “There’s a fellow here asking to see Rebecca,” she said in a low voice. “He’s English, and dressed in a suit and tie—and really gut-looking!”

  “Tell him I’ll be right out,” Rebecca said, waving her off. “I don’t know many men who fit that description.”

  Nora said her goodbyes and went into the main room of the store behind Rebecca. The man Loretta had mentioned was studying the display of tooled saddles and specialty tack Matthias Wagler had consigned. He was good-looking—maybe forty, and far more polished and sophisticated than most men who passed through Willow Ridge. Nora had a hunch, from his understated tweed jacket and conservative tie, that he was also rather wealthy.

  “Hi there,” Rebecca said as she set aside her equipment and offered him her hand. “If you’re looking for Rebecca Oliveri, that would be me. How can I help you?”

  The man looked up from the saddles, a suave smile spreading across his face. “You’re the one who’s designed the websites for so many Willow Ridge businesses?” he asked as he took her hand. “I’m Wyatt McKenzie. It was the online presence you’ve created for this town that convinced me to purchase the tract of land adjoining the mill property on the other side of the river. I just introduced myself to Luke over at the mill, and he thought you’d be here about now.”

  Nora’s eyes widened as she went to join them. She’d had no idea the undeveloped land behind their property was for sale. “That’s big news, Mr. McKenzie. Welcome to Willow Ridge,” she said as she extended her hand. “I’m Luke’s wife, Nora, owner of this gift shop. If you’re looking for someone to give you an online presence, I can attest that Rebecca’s top-notch.”

  McKenzie’s grip was firm as he assessed Nora with blue-gray eyes. “Your husband said the same thing and attributes his marketing success to Ms. Oliveri’s computer savvy. It’s such a pleasure to meet you folks,” he added with a nod toward Rebecca and Loretta. “Willow Ridge seems to be exactly the sort of place I’ve been searching for to raise my Thoroughbreds.”

  Their new English neighbor smiled at Rebecca. “Is this a convenient time to discuss some website business, or shall I make an appointment?” he asked. “I know your time’s valuable, and I just showed up out of the blue.”

  “Shall we chat on the way back to my office?” Rebecca suggested as she picked up her equipment. “It’s just a short walk—and I can give you the low-down on Zook’s Market and the Grill N Skillet Café we’ll be passing on the way there, if that works for you.”

  “Excellent. Let’s do it.”

  As Wyatt preceded Rebecca so he could open the door for her, Nora had the feeling that he would bring a whole new energy to Willow Ridge—with Thoroughbred horses, no less. Amish farmers used draft horses, such as Belgians, for doing their field work, but when it came to horses for their buggies, they often indulged in showier horseflesh. No one for miles around bred or trained horses, so Wyatt might get a lot of local business—and Nora suspected he’d already researched that angle.

  “Well, now,” Loretta murmured after the door closed behind them. “I could be wrong, but Mr. McKenzie seemed to be giving Rebecca quite a looking-over. Not that it’s any of my business,” she added playfully.

  Nora laughed. “In a town this size, our new neighbor and his high-dollar horses—and his love life—will soon be everybody’s business,” she said. “But for all we know, he’s married, so we shouldn’t be speculating about him and Rebecca.”

  An impish grin flitted across Loretta’s face. “He wasn’t wearing a ring,” she pointed out. “And a fellow who’s that well turned-out would probably be sporting a really fancy ring, maybe with a diamond.”

  Nora blinked. Old Order girls didn’t usually pay attention to jewelry, because church members weren’t allowed to wear it—and Nora hadn’t noticed that detail about her new neighbor.

  “You have a keen eye, Loretta,” she said as they began to stack the fabric arranged on the sleigh bed. “Just be aware that when you work with the public, an ability to keep your observations to yourself—or between us—is an even more valuable asset.”

  Loretta chuckled. “I’ve spent most of my life keeping my opinions and observations to myself—or just whispering them to my sisters. Ain’t so?”

  Nora had to agree. With such a controlling father as Cornelius, the deacon of their church district, the Riehl girls knew how to tend their business with tightly sealed smiles.

  Loretta was going to be an even better employee than Nora had anticipated.

  Chapter Six

  Rebecca wondered how her office had suddenly become so much smaller. Or was it that Wyatt McKenzie filled it with his elegance and understated manner as he sat in the chair on the other side of her desk chatting with her? During the walk from Simple Gifts, he’d shed his tweed sport coat, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his pale blue shirt to allow for the August heat and humidity. He’d rolled his sleeves partway up his forearms, as well—and Rebecca caught herself staring at his well-defined body and beautiful skin. With his sun-streaked brown hair and summer tan, Wyatt reminded her of Robert Redford in his heyday. She warned herself not to behave like a clueless groupie.

  “You’ve lived in Willow Ridge all your life?” Wyatt asked. He had the low, modulated voice o
f a PBS station announcer and a way of holding her gaze just a smidgen too long with his arresting blue-gray eyes.

  Rebecca tried not to sound adolescent. “I was born here—born Amish—but when I was a toddler, I was washed away when the river rose during the flood of nineteen ninety-three. A couple in New Haven found me and adopted me,” she recounted softly. “But when my mother—or at least the woman I’d believed was my mother—died, I found a tiny Amish-style dress in the bottom of one of her trunks.”

  Rebecca still got goose bumps when she recalled the moment she’d realized the Oliveris weren’t her birth parents. “Instinct led me back to Willow Ridge, and when Miriam Lantz recognized me in her Sweet Seasons Bakery and Café, it was quite a reunion,” she continued. “Even though I was in my Goth phase, dressed in black with spiky, dyed hair, I resembled my two sisters, Rhoda and Rachel. They were shocked to learn we’d been born as triplets instead of their being twins. But I’m rattling on about—”

  “My God, what a shock it must’ve been for all of you,” Wyatt murmured, leaning on the desk to study her features. “But I have to wonder why they didn’t go searching for you after you’d washed away.”

  Rebecca considered this for a moment. “The men looked for me, but it’s not the Amish way to involve the sheriff’s department in searches,” she explained. “My poor mother was told to let it go at that—that it was God’s will I had vanished. She had a hard time facing the fact that I’d surely drowned—for what are the odds of a three-year-old surviving a log ride on a flood-swollen river?”

  “Slim to none,” he said.

  Rebecca nodded. “So imagine her shock—and delight—when they discovered that the girl with the black fingernails and tattoo was her long-lost daughter. I was a bit of a celebrity for a while. I was a miracle.”