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ways.
    Pinecraft was definitely a lot more relaxed than back home in Ohio. She thought of the saying, “What happens in Pinecraft, stays in Pinecraft.”
    Aenti Chelle smiled. “I have confidence in you, Betsy. There might be obstacles to overcome while you prepare the store, but God willing, all will come out right.”
    Ach , there was the rub. Gotte willing.
    She’d thought it Gotte’s wille she and Jacob would be together. Immediately, she chided herself for the wayward thought, even as she nodded at her aenti ’s encouragement. No more thoughts of Jacob Miller. Gideon Stoltzfus had approached her once while home in Ohio, but she wasn’t interested in the least. Surely, Gotte had someone more suitable for both of them.
    Anyway, who would go walking with a young man who told her the reason he wanted to escort her home was because of her good apple pie? His ample frame told her how much he like pie. She frowned at her glass of iced tea. Her parents, especially her mother, would have likely preferred she see what happened with Gideon, as it might bring her home to them. She’d been taught her parents knew what was best for her, what Gotte wanted for her.
    Yes, she wanted to do Gotte’s wille and please Him, but sometimes she wasn’t sure her elders knew best. But as far as the shop was concerned she’d do her best to bend to what they wanted. Everything except for a wood-burning stove, which even Aenti Sarah ought to know was impractical and silly in Pinecraft.
    “Thirty days,” she said aloud.
    “What?” asked Aenti Sarah, as their waitress and another server delivered their hot meals to the table.
    “I want to open in thirty days. After I sign the lease at the real estate office tomorrow morning, Mr. Hostetler is meeting me at the store to go over plans.”
    “Henry Hostetler is an excellent contractor, even for a Mennonite.” Aenti Chelle took a bite of her pot roast. “I know he’s excited about the idea of your shop.”
    “ Gut . I will call him when we get home later, to make sure he remembers he’s meeting me.”
    More head shaking from Aenti Sarah. “Telephones. Personal private telephones.”
    Betsy opened her mouth, but Aenti Chelle beat her to the response. “It’s a business tool, Sarah. People can reach him anytime and leave a message about work.”
    “A little leaven, leaveneth the whole lump.” Aenti Sarah bowed her head to pray silently over her meal, so Betsy continued to hold her peace and did the same.
    Please, Gotte, bless this meal, and bless my shop, if it be Your will. And, help me deal with Aenti Sarah.
    Thankfully, Sarah seemed to forget about the folder on the table and ate her chicken pot pie, talking about upcoming plans to work with her friends to put in more quilts to sell at auction in January, along with the state of a yard in a nearby mobile home park. She asked if Betsy had noticed the advertisement for herbal energy pills in the latest issue of The Budget .
    By the time they’d paid their check, which Aenti Chelle insisted on paying for, and making the short walk to the fresh market, Betsy’s head swam like it did the day she cleaned a client’s whole house when the air conditioner was broken.
    “I won’t be long,” Aenti Chelle said as they entered the store, one entire side providing an open-air shopping experience. “I just need a few things for breakfast and lunch.”
    “I suppose I should pick up some vegetables while I’m here as well.” Aenti Sarah picked up a plastic basket. “My garden’s hit a dry spell.”
    Fascinated by all the products, Betsy strolled the store and wandered past displays. Homemade soup mix, pot pies to take home and bake, fresh local eggs and cheese. Even real maple syrup, apple butter, and honey.
    What caught her attention, though, were the baked goods. Breads of all kinds, and whoopee pies. Although she’d just split a piece of peanut butter pie with Aenti Chelle, the chocolate and fluff combination made her mouth