Morning Star. Charlotte Hubbard
the benediction, they bowed their heads to receive his blessing. The five of them took their Old Order faith seriously, even if they sometimes muttered about its inconveniences.
“I know you’re ready to devour the common meal,” the bishop said after the benediction, “but I’m calling a Members Meeting. An opportunity has presented itself in the form of property that’s gone up for sale.”
Regina’s eyes widened. Had the old stable caught the bishop’s eye? If he’d decided to buy the land for himself, he wouldn’t be bringing it up at church—yet she couldn’t imagine Preacher Ammon Slabaugh or her uncle, Preacher Clarence Miller, buying that dilapidated building or the pastureland surrounding it.
“You’re all familiar with the Clementi place at the edge of town,” Bishop Jeremiah continued, “and I’ve heard an intriguing idea about how the stable might be turned into shops where our members and other Plain folks could rent space to sell their wares, as well as a suggestion to use the pastureland for mud sales, produce auctions, and other events.”
Regina elbowed Jo. “You talked to the bishop?” she mouthed in amazement.
Jo’s tight, hopeful expression confirmed Regina’s assumption.
“When I approached our preachers and Deacon Saul, they hesitated—until I suggested that our church could collect a commission from the shops’ sales, which would go toward building a new schoolhouse,” the bishop continued as he looked out over the crowd. “Preacher Ammon pointed out that we often run short of parking space at our mud sales—”
“Are you saying our church district would buy the property?” Elva Detweiler asked loudly. She was hard of hearing, and she spoke as though everyone else was, too. “Won’t that deplete our emergency aid fund?”
“Why would we waste money rebuilding that rickety old stable when we could build a new one cheaper?” Gabe’s dat, Martin Flaud, challenged.
“What with that big Plain gift shop just down the road in Willow Ridge, why would we open the same sort of store here?” Gabe asked.
Bishop Jeremiah held up his hands for silence. “I’m pleased that you’re questioning this idea, rather than rejecting it flat out,” he said. “I’m surprised the Clementi family doesn’t want more money for this property. They’re hoping to unload the place quickly to settle the estate, and because we could pay cash up front, they’ve agreed to accept less than their listing price. Deacon Saul feels it would be a gut investment—”
“Jah, I’d sell my pastureland for twice as much,” Saul Hartzler chimed in from the preachers’ bench. “We wouldn’t be out anything but some grass seed to make it look better. Mowing it before mud sales and auctions would be the only other maintenance.”
“I’m in favor of refurbishing the stable rather than tearing it down because the main structure is basically sound, and we wouldn’t have to replace much wood,” Preacher Ammon replied to Martin. “It also has a character about it you don’t see in modern-style stables.”
“I’m hoping to hire my nephew Pete to do that carpentry work for us,” the bishop said with a knowing smile. “Maybe it’ll set him onto a straighter path than working at the pet food factory. And maybe it’ll get him to church more often, too.”
Regina and several other folks chuckled. Pete Shetler was in his late twenties, seemingly stuck in perpetual rumspringa. He tended to frequent the pool hall after working the night shift, so he sometimes came to church wearing clothes that reeked of grease and cigarettes.
“I also believe English shoppers will flock to a quaint stable with cupolas on top, and colorful shutters and flower boxes—not to mention plenty of parking space,” Bishop Jeremiah continued, painting them a bright picture. “And because our shops would be individually operated by folks selling their own products, only on Saturdays, I don’t think we’d be competing against the Simple Gifts store in Willow Ridge.”
“Sounds like you’ve got this all figured out and you’re ready to put money on the table, Bishop. So why’re you bringing this up to us?” Elva asked. “We pay you such a princely sum, you can surely afford it on your own.”
The room erupted in laughter. Because Amish bishops serve without pay, Bishop Jeremiah was laughing the loudest of all.
“The preachers, Deacon Saul, and I are bringing this matter before the congregation because we see it as a possible way to support the construction of a new schoolhouse—to replace the current one, which is becoming too crowded,” Bishop Jeremiah replied patiently. “We could even build it on the new property, where we wouldn’t face flooding like we had last spring.”
Several parents of school-age children nodded. They all recalled the terrible mess they’d had to clean up—and the days of school the scholars had missed—because several inches of water from the Missouri River had inundated the little white building.
“Is there more discussion, or shall we vote about whether to buy the Clementi property?” the bishop asked.
Martin Flaud quickly spoke up. “With all due respect, Jeremiah, I can’t imagine that you will take charge of these shops—or that you came up with the idea for them. Who’s going to manage this place?”
“Jah, and who would rent space there?” Gabe chimed in. “No sense in proceeding with this purchase unless several folks are willing to invest themselves in making it work.”
Regina held her breath, noting how intently Jo was focused on the bishop—probably concerned about having to convince the local men that her plan had merit. The idea Jo had blurted on the spur of the moment during their walk last Sunday had become a full-blown business possibility in a very short time, mostly because Bishop Jeremiah seemed sold on it.
When Lydianne, Molly, and Marietta turned to look at Regina and Jo, their faces were lit with hopeful excitement—as though Jo’s idea suddenly felt more appealing because it had a chance to succeed.
“One of the first names that came to my mind as a potential renter was yours, Martin,” Bishop Jeremiah replied. “You and your employees produce some of the finest furniture I’ve ever seen, yet your showroom’s too small to do it justice. What would it hurt to display some pieces where new customers could run their fingers over your glossy tabletops and picture one of your beautiful bedroom sets in their homes?”
Regina’s eyes widened at the bishop’s praise. Customers had no way of knowing that she and Lydianne did most of the staining and finishing at the Flauds’ factory, yet she and her friend took pride in giving each piece all the time and attention it deserved before it left the workroom.
“And what about you, Glenn?” Preacher Clarence asked. “The wooden toys and rocking chairs you handcraft would be a big hit at a Saturday marketplace. I see these shops as something akin to a flea market, except the items would all be new, top-notch Amish products instead of antiques or estate sale stuff that vendors have hauled from one place to another.”
Jo chuckled under her breath. “Who knew your uncle would ever get so excited about shopping?” she whispered.
“I had no idea any of these men would support your plan,” Regina murmured. “The bishop’s really enthusiastic about this!”
“He’s being smart about it, too, keeping my name out of it,” Jo remarked softly.
Meanwhile, Glenn Detweiler had stood up to survey the crowd. “All right, I’m in!” he exclaimed. “I’ve sold several things through the consignment shop in Willow Ridge, but I’d much rather attract shoppers to Morning Star! Who’ll join me?”
Regina and Jo sucked in their breath, and the Helfing twins turned to look at them. “Can you believe this?” Molly whispered. “Your idea for saving the stable is taking off like a shot!”
Without warning, Marietta rose to her feet. “We Helfings will rent a booth to sell our noodles,” she declared.
From a couple benches in front of them,