The Amish Bachelor's Choice. Jocelyn McClay

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СКАЧАТЬ he’d heard of this opportunity, he’d snatched it up like a horse snapping at an insect during blackfly season.

      Hopefully this’d been Gott’s answer. Once he’d settled on his course, Malachi hadn’t paused in his plodding forward long enough to check.

      The furniture shop was a good investment. He’d reviewed numbers available on the operation before he’d made the offer. It was a well-run business and Malachi was excited to be part of it. But it was a big change. He wasn’t fond of changes. This purchase had prompted several of them in his life. Walking through that door would hopefully wrap up the last and biggest one.

      After giving the bay a final rub on the forehead, he headed up the stairs. A cheery jingle greeted him when he swung the door open. Malachi’s tense shoulders eased slightly as he inhaled the familiar scents of wood and stain. His lips curved. This was what he knew and loved. It would be all right.

      An encompassing glance revealed a well-ordered showroom. His experienced eye recognized the diverse furniture’s primary wood as oak, with a few pieces of cherry, maple and walnut. Stepping farther into the airy room, he ran a hand over the back of a chair that tucked into a large dining table. Malachi nodded in approval at the smooth surface. He straightened abruptly and turned to the back of the store when he heard the sound of a door opening.

      An Amish woman stepped through, a ready smile on her face. Her auburn hair was tucked under her kapp, a few strands threatening to escape the confines. She headed in his direction before halting abruptly. Reaching up, she touched the safety glasses on her face, hastily pulled them off and set them on the sales counter. With flushed cheeks and a sheepish smile, she turned back to him.

      “Good morning. May I help you?” she inquired as she approached, her black shoes making no sound on the glossy wooden floor.

      He couldn’t help returning the smile. Her grin became full and moved to her eyes. Eyes that lifted briefly to his hat before returning to his face. Malachi yanked the black felt from his head and held it in front of him. “Guder mariye,” he returned the greeting. “My name is Malachi Schrock. I was told to meet Bishop Weaver here this morning.”

      The warmth faded from her face like the temperature of a fine October day upon the approach of an early-winter storm. Malachi didn’t realize how much he’d appreciated its glow until he was facing frost in her green eyes.

      “Ah. The new owner. The bishop isn’t here right now. If he told you to meet him, I’m sure he’ll be in as soon as he can.” Even her voice had changed from June to December.

      Malachi raised his eyebrows. The families that’d greeted him and his brothers at the farmstead had been quite cordial. Some of the young women, enthusiastically so. Obviously, this woman worked here. Just as obviously, he wasn’t welcome. He slowly shifted the brim of his hat between his hands. Hopefully this attitude wasn’t the consensus of his new workforce.

      Upon reaching him, the woman clasped her hands together at her waist, regarding him coolly. The top of her head, even with the thick soles on her shoes, barely reached his chin.

      “If you have any questions about the business, I’d be... I will answer them for you.”

      Happy had been the omitted word that hung in the silence of the room. She was not happy to have him here, not happy to answer his questions. Malachi sighed. He didn’t know what he might have done already to offend her. He’d only been in the district a few days and the store a few minutes.

      Malachi had never been a business owner before, but he’d run a large furniture operation for his previous employer in Ohio. To his knowledge, all those he’d supervised had been quite content with his leadership. He intended that to be the case here. Apparently, he had some ground to make up.

      Glancing back toward the front door, he noted the hat rack at its customary location just inside. Malachi took a moment to put his hat on one of the pegs before turning back to the young woman. He suppressed a smile. She reminded him of a fierce bantam hen.

      “What would you like to tell me about the business?”

      His mild, open-ended question seemed to surprise her, but she recovered quickly. “It’s a well-run operation.”

      Malachi nodded solemnly. “I noted that from the bookwork.”

      The ice in her green eyes melted slightly. A shrewd spark began to replace the frost. “The employees are extremely capable and loyal. They’ve all worked here for some time and are very valuable to the business.”

      His lips twitched slightly at her artfulness. “That is gut to know.”

      “New accounts have been established with some of the larger Englisch furniture stores. We are starting to get a backlog of orders. It’s probably time to hire more workers.” She eyed him closely, gauging his response.

      So this woman knew that his brothers were joining him in the business. Even without telephones, news spread fast in Amish communities. While his brothers would work with him, he had no plans to change the workforce at this time. Not until he understood their abilities and how they benefited the operation. Malachi respected that she was trying to protect the current employees. He also recognized that she was trying to lead him. Plodder he might be, but he didn’t like being pulled by the halter. “Are you falling behind?”

      Her mouth opened in a perfect circle before snapping closed. “Not at all! I just wanted to assure you that there was ample work to be done.”

      “Gut. I look forward to reviewing the orders.” He regarded her quietly. “You mentioned we. How long have you worked here?”

      For a moment, her eyes clouded. “My father was Amos Fisher, the previous owner. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t come to work with him.”

      Malachi frowned in sympathy for her loss at the same time a chill ran up his spine. A managing female in the business. Just what he’d left Ohio to avoid. He continued his study of the woman in front of him. She returned his scrutiny. Malachi drummed his fingers slowly against his pant leg. Perhaps there would be one immediate change to the workforce after all.

      They turned in relieved unison when the door jingled to announce a new arrival.

      The tall man who entered nodded to the woman before hanging his hat and extending his hand to Malachi.

      “I am Ezekiel Weaver. You are Malachi Schrock?” He continued at Malachi’s nod, “Welcome to Miller’s Creek. I see you’ve met Ruth Fisher. I’m sure she was sharing how glad we are that you’re coming to live in the community.”

      “Something like that.” Malachi’s eyes returned to the young woman’s. Her smooth cheeks flushed under his regard.

      The bishop dipped his head in approval. “Gut. She can tell you a lot about the business.”

      “So I’m discovering.” So the bishop wasn’t aware of the young woman’s animosity. Malachi wasn’t going to be the one to share the news. Except for the situation in Ohio, where evasion had seemed the more prudent choice, Malachi addressed his own battles.

      Bishop Weaver turned to the young woman. “Ruth, do you have a place where we can talk in private?”

      “Certainly.” She gestured to the door of a small office. The bishop entered and shut СКАЧАТЬ