Читать книгу Amish Triplets For Christmas - Carrie Lighte - Страница 12

Chapter Four

“Be careful!” Hannah’s grandfather commanded as she helped him hoist the dollhouse into the buggy Saturday morning. “This could fetch a pretty penny, but not if you crack it.”

Hannah dismissed his harsh admonishment as concern about their income. The dollhouse was larger and more detailed than any he’d ever made before—clearly he had designed it to appeal to Englisch tourists—so it was no wonder he wanted to be certain it arrived without a nick. She mopped her brow and took her place beside him in the buggy, uttering a silent prayer for travel mercies.

As they sped past the fields and into town, Hannah let her mind wander to her conversation with Sawyer, as it had often done in the past hours, making light work of wringing and hanging the clothes and scrubbing the floors. Better than a dream, he had said about her sweet bread. She knew pride was a sin, but being given a compliment was such a rare occurrence she couldn’t help but treasure his words. They weren’t merely flattery, either—his bright green eyes had shone with genuine earnestness as he’d spoken the phrase.

A driver honked his horn, jarring Hannah from her thoughts. She touched her grandfather’s sleeve to warn him of the approaching vehicle so he could move to the shoulder of the road, but he jerked his arm away. She was relieved when they finally pulled into the lane behind the mercantile. So many tourists’ cars filled the lot that Hannah and her grandfather had to tie their horse at the designated horse and buggy plot nearly a quarter of a mile away.

They purchased their groceries and returned to the buggy to secure them there before heading to Schrock’s Shop, which was located three doors down from the mercantile. Hannah helped her grandfather unload the dollhouse first; they’d come back to retrieve the other toys later. She was aware of but not bothered by the curious stares of the Englischers as they trudged down the long street toward the shop.

Hannah’s grandfather had been apprenticed as a carpenter—he once owned a small furniture shop that eventually closed for lack of business. After that, he reluctantly went to work in the Englisch-run factory on the edge of town. Ever since the company retired him some eight years ago, he had been consigning wooden toys at Schrock’s, where his work was highly prized among tourists. Eve’s quilts were equally appreciated. However, sometimes it seemed the Englisch were willing to praise more than they were willing to pay, so the income generated from the sales was nominal at best.

Still, the sales had been a provision from the Lord, and Hannah thought about how thankful she was for that as she pulled open the door to the back entrance.

“Guder nammidaag,” she said, wishing a good afternoon to Joseph Schrock, Daniel Schrock’s son, who was in charge of making consignment arrangements for new merchandise.

He looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, a pinched expression on his face. “Good afternoon, Hannah, Albert,” he greeted them in Englisch.

As they placed the dollhouse carefully on the floor, Hannah expected Joseph to fuss over it more than he usually did, since the dollhouse was especially handsome. Instead, Joseph slid his pencil behind his ear and offered them a chair.

Her grandfather refused. “I am not so old I need to sit after a stroll down the lane.”

Hannah’s cheeks grew hot, but out of respect for her grandfather, she remained standing, too. Joseph excused himself to close the door leading to the main gallery where the customers browsed.

“The news isn’t good, Albert,” Joseph acknowledged. He mouthed the words toward Hannah’s grandfather, but his eyes shifted to Hannah. He held up two fingers. “Only two of your items sold since you were last here. The Englisch are less inclined to buy wooden toys any longer. They spend their money on electronic devices, I am told.”

Hannah chewed her lip, nodding.

“I’m afraid we have to limit the amount of shelf space we can devote to your items, Albert. Until what you have here already sells, we cannot accept more toys. Especially not something as large as that dollhouse.”

Hannah’s grandfather pounded his fist against the desktop, causing Hannah and Joseph both to jump.

“I made the cradle you slept in, Joseph Schrock!” he shouted. “Your own sons have slept in it, as well. Now, are you to tell me you’re turning away my goods?”

“My father made the decision, and it is final,” Joseph stated, nervously pushing his glasses from where they’d slid down the bridge of his nose.

“What is final,” Hannah’s grandfather thundered, “is that we will never darken your doorstep again!”

He grunted as he bent to heave the dollhouse from the floor, and Hannah leaped to his aid.

“I’m sorry,” Joseph apologized to her. “I hope you understand.”

Hannah felt pulled between being loyal to her grandfather and being polite to Joseph. She dipped her head so her grandfather wouldn’t see her lips move but replied in their German dialect so Joseph would remember whom he was dealing with. “Mach’s gut, Joseph.”