Beginnings (25 page)

The smells teased Beth’s senses, and her stomach growled, reminding her how her eating schedule had gone haywire in the past weeks. She could hardly wait until they sat down to eat. With five chairs around the kitchen’s round table, their elbows touched, but no one seemed to mind. Grandpa asked the blessing, and they chatted as they enjoyed the meal.

Well, Beth acknowledged with a small stab of discomfort, Mom and Grandma chatted, and Henry and Grandpa chatted, but she ended up being left out of most of the conversation. It wasn’t intentional—she knew that—but the odd number simply left her without a conversation partner. For a brief moment, she wished her parents had asked someone—Andrew? Trina?—to join them so she wouldn’t feel so ... ignored. Then Grandpa accidentally bumped her elbow, and she realized that even if they had asked someone else, there wouldn’t be room for another person at this table.

In fact, she thought as her scowling gaze swept around the periphery of the table, once those twins were born, there wouldn’t really be room for her here. The thought ruined what was left of her appetite, and she put down her fork.

Mom glanced over at the
clink
of the silverware against the plate. “Are you finished?”

Beth glanced at her plate. She hated to waste food, especially food that had only moments ago given her taste buds great pleasure. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow another bite. “Yes.” She pushed away from the table. “Do you want me to cut the pie and put it on dessert plates?”

Mom started to rise, too. “Let me get the ice cream out of—”

“I’ll do it,” Beth said, rising quickly. “You stay put.”

She listened to the continued conversation as she sliced the apple pie purchased at Deborah’s café. Once each slice had been topped with a healthy scoop of vanilla ice cream, she carried the plates to the table and refilled the coffee cups for her grandparents and stepfather. Mom had sworn off coffee for the duration of her pregnancy, claiming the caffeine created water retention. Beth didn’t think Mom could possible retain any more fluid than she already had.

Even though she didn’t cut a piece of pie for herself, she did sit down and sip coffee while the others ate.

Grandpa slurped at his cup, then gave her a speculative look, his bushy gray brows high. “So I hear you have lots of windows to build.”

Beth resisted shaking her head. Word sure got around if it made it all the way out to Grandpa’s farm! “Yes, they’re waiting for me. But I have to finish the first project McCauley gave me to their satisfaction before they’ll trust me with anything else.”

“Well, that Andrew is helping you, isn’t he? At least, his dad was fussing that the boy is always at your studio.” Grandpa’s voice held a note of teasing.

Beth chose to ignore the insinuation that Andrew hung around the studio for reasons other than working. “He’s there quite a bit, but he’s helping his dad, too. I know he wants to work at the studio full-time, though.”

Grandma nodded slowly. “He’s always been different from his brothers, not interested in farming and such. It’s good there’s something he likes to do that is close by.”

“He’s a big help to me at the studio.” Beth drew a thoughtful sip of the hot liquid before continuing. “But even with his help, we’ve had some trouble finishing this
one
large project. I’m pushing mighty close to that deadline. It makes me a little nervous, thinking about the big windows waiting for me.”

“Maybe I can come in and help,” Grandpa said.

Beth imagined her elderly grandfather bending over the high worktable or on his knees beside the platform. Neither picture would gel. But she wouldn’t tell him that. “If you want to spend a day at the studio, you’re more than welcome, Grandpa.”

He nudged her with his elbow and grinned, his lips twitching. “I build things, too, you know. In my woodshop. It’s pretty much the same thing.” Suddenly his face lit. “Say, I have an idea. We could work together. I could build cabinets, and you could make stained-glass windows to put in the door panels.”

Without intending to, Beth groaned.

Grandpa reared back, his forehead creasing. “You don’t like the idea?”

“Oh, no, it’s a great idea. I love it, actually!” She touched his arm. “It would be an honor, considering the furniture making that’s been done in the family throughout generations. Then I’d have a part in that, too.” She sighed. “No, it’s just the idea of one more project. Right now it’s a little overwhelming.”

“So hire workers,” Henry said. He pushed his empty pie plate aside and draped his arm across the back of Mom’s chair. “You know McCauley plans to use you. You’ve seen a contract to know how much they will pay, so we could sit down and figure out the hourly wage you could offer.”

“Workers? Plural?” Beth propped her elbows on the table.

“Certainly plural.” Henry’s fingers drew a circle on Mom’s shoulder—Beth was certain he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. “You’ve had Andrew with you for several months now, and sometimes it’s still hard to keep up. If your workload is going to increase, it makes sense to add a few more employees to the studio. They could start with the little things—the suncatchers—and work up to the larger projects, just as Andrew has. On-the-job training.”

Beth considered what it would be like to have more than one person in the studio. She frowned. “I like the idea of extra hands, but right now with just Andrew and me, it can feel crowded. I don’t know how we’d fit more people in there.”

“So expand.” The enthusiasm in Henry’s voice stirred excitement in Beth’s chest. “You’ve got enough land to build on three of the four sides if you need to. Start interviewing people now who would like to learn stained-glass art. Then, when it’s time to start working on those multiwindow contracts, you’ll have people in place ready to go.”

“But how will I pay for a bigger studio?” Beth threw her hands outward. “I don’t have any money from these contracts yet.”

“Take out a small-business loan,” Henry said.

“A loan?” Grandma sounded horrified.

“An investment,” Henry countered, his tone gentle. “If Beth is going to build her business, a loan may be necessary.”

“No loans. I don’t trust banks.” Grandpa shook his head adamantly and wrapped his hand around Beth’s forearm. “You don’t go to any bank. If you want to expand the business, I’ll give you your portion of your inheritance early.”

Grandma immediately sat up straight, her face lighting. “Yes! Much better.”

“In–inheritance?” Beth looked from one grandparent to the other. “But I already got an inheritance from Aunt Lisbeth. Her café and house. That’s enough.” It was much more than she could have anticipated, having grown up far away from this community and her mother’s relatives.

“That was from Lisbeth,” Grandpa said. “But I always planned to divide my holdings between my children and grandchildren. Already one of Art’s boys claimed his portion when he took a wife and needed to purchase land for a house. Now you can do the same. There should be enough to add on to your studio.”

Beth’s heart raced. “If I add workers, I’ll need more equipment, too.”

“If the community puts up the building for you, like they did last time, you’ll have money for equipment.”

Beth stared at her grandfather. “You’d really let me do that? Take my inheritance early?”

Grandpa looked steadily into her eyes. “Do you believe this studio is what God planned for your future?”

The seriousness in his expression and tone made Beth think carefully before she answered. She had prayed about the studio, and she did believe she’d been given the talent and desire by God to create beauty with stained glass. She nodded. “I do believe it’s what He intended for me.”

“Then I will give you the money. Tomorrow.”

TWENTY-THREE

“Grandpa Koeppler is quite the go-getter.” Beth and Andrew sat on opposite sides of the worktable and sipped lemonade from tall paper cups. There wasn’t anything from Deborah’s café that Beth didn’t like. The sweet, cool liquid revived her after a long day. Her work had been interrupted several times to confer with her grandfather on the addition to the studio. “He’s done more in one day than most people would accomplish in a full week.”

“Because he wants to see you happy,” Andrew said, his smile crinkling his eyes. “And he knows the studio makes you happy.”

“Well...” Beth bit down on her lower lip for a moment. “I’m wondering how you feel about all of this. The expansion is moving pretty fast.” Grandpa had already placed the order for materials to build toward the alley. Tomorrow a small crew of men would pour the concrete foundation so it would be dry and ready for construction when the steel beams and siding arrived by truck next week. Beth’s head spun with the idea that by the beginning of April she could have a staff of three under her supervision!

“You need to expand if the studio is to be all you’ve envisioned.” Andrew raised his broad shoulders in a shrug. “Your success is my success, so I’m not arguing.”

Beth could have reminded him of his comment that she shouldn’t stay in Sommerfeld, that she didn’t belong. But she chose instead to ask a question. “Since we’ll have the space for a full crew in here, do you have any suggestions for employees? I have no real preference for male or female, but I do think I’d like the workers to be at least eighteen years old.”

It wasn’t uncommon for youth as young as fourteen to begin working full-time, whether on their own family farms or in other positions in and around Sommerfeld. But given the potential danger of some of the equipment used in the studio, Beth preferred workers with a little more maturity than the normal fourteen-year-old.

“Hmm...” Andrew’s furrowed brow and thoughtful tap of his finger against his lips told Beth he took her question seriously. “If you want to hire young people from here in town, I would start with your uncle Ben Koeppler’s older girl, Catherine. She is eighteen but not yet married, and I heard she was looking to be hired at the big discount store in McPherson. Her parents would rather she wasn’t driving.”

Beth nodded. She’d met Catherine at family gatherings. She was a sweet, quiet girl who would likely prefer staying close to home. “Anybody else?”

“Maybe...” Suddenly Andrew’s ears began filling with pink. “She’s another of your relatives, although not so close—a cousin from your maternal grandmother’s side. Doug Ortmann’s daughter Livvy asked me not long ago if she could come by and see what we do. Maybe she would be interested.”

Beth, observing his flaming ears, resisted making a teasing remark. “I had thought about Trina. She’ll be eighteen next month, right? And I know she’s said she’d rather not work at the restaurant.”

“Working here would be the same as working there to Trina.” Andrew’s voice held a touch of sadness. “She wouldn’t be any happier. And asking her would only create problems with her mother.”

Beth agreed with that. Although she didn’t find Deborah as intimidating as she first had when she’d come to Sommerfeld, she still tried to keep her distance from the forceful woman. The last thing she wanted was to cause conflict in Trina’s relationship with her mother.

“Okay, then. My cousin Catherine and ... Livvy, you said?” At his nod, he shifted his gaze to the side. A curious reaction. Beth pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. “Well, here’s what I suggest. We might as well find out now whether they’re interested. That way, if they aren’t, we can look for someone else. We also need to know if they can learn the process. Do you suppose they could come in tomorrow and watch you make a suncatcher from start to finish? Maybe even start one themselves.”

Andrew’s head whipped around. “Tomorrow?”

Beth flipped her hands outward. “Why not? If they get some training, they’ll be ready to step into full-time slots when the addition is finished. I can’t pay them a wage until they actually start working, so I’d need to make that clear, but if they’re interested and can prove their ability, I could put them on the payroll when they start constructing projects.”

“Or maybe pay them per project to get started?”

“Not a bad idea...” Beth leaned her chin on her hand, thinking out loud. “To start with, I had thought of paying minimum wage. But I kind of like the idea of paying per project. Then, as their skills grow and they work on the bigger projects, the pay could increase. I’ll probably also start them out part-time—maybe just mornings. Ease into it. What do you think?”

Andrew’s lips curved into a lopsided grin. His brown eyes glowed. “I think we are going to have a real art studio right here in Sommerfeld.” He released a hoot that surprised Beth. She’d never seen him so animated. He reached across the table and gave her hand one quick squeeze. “It’s going to happen, isn’t it?”

Beth couldn’t stop her own smile from growing. “It’s going to happen.” She looked over at the platform. The kaleidoscope of color sparkled beneath the overhead lights, and her heart rate increased as her gaze skimmed around the circle of glistening shapes. “And to think it all rests on one window....”

“Both Ben Koeppler and Doug Ortmann have telephones. Do you want to call the girls’ fathers now and make arrangements for them to come in tomorrow morning?”

Beth jerked to face Andrew, blinking in confusion. “Ask their fathers?”

“Well, of course. The girls still reside beneath the roof of their fathers’ homes. They must have permission for the job.”