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Authors: Mindy Starns Clark

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BOOK: The Amish Clockmaker
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Peering over at the site now from where I stood at the barn door, I spotted a case in point, a small cluster of workers hovering near a cement mixer, apparently doing nothing more strenuous than watching it turn. Behind them, movement caught my eye, and I realized it was Kenny, marching across the packed earth toward them, barking out orders as he went.

At that same moment, a handful of my own crew members emerged from the tack store's back door, loaded down with the equipment they would need—surveying tools, wooden stakes, mallets, and other implements—to get started on the footings and foundation. The men fanned out across the grass and got right down to business. I was expected inside the tack shop, however, so I headed there, ready for the next step.

I went in through the back, and it wasn't until I'd crossed the room and emerged into the front part of the store that I realized my father was there. I froze.

Apparently, he'd decided to show up after all.

T
HREE

I
hesitated near the doorway as I watched
Daed
interacting with Amanda and several of the men up front. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but judging by their postures and expressions, nothing contentious seemed to be going on. In fact, my father said something that made my wife throw her head back and laugh.

When I stepped forward, the movement caught his attention. With a tentative smile—one that looked very much like an olive branch—he turned and began heading in my direction. I met him halfway, out of earshot of everyone else. We both came to a stop and then just stood there, face-to-face.
Daed
reached out his hand without a word, and I responded in kind. With a firm grip on both sides, our eyes locked as we shook.

“Funny thing, this morning's Bible passage,” he said in a low voice as his hand dropped back to his side.


Ya?


Ya
. It was about the three servants who were given talents by their master. They were supposed to invest them, but one got scared and buried his in the ground instead. When the master returned, he scolded that servant, saying something along the lines of you can't reap if you don't sow and you can't gather if you don't straw.” With a shrug, he added, “I know I'm the bury-it-in-the-ground type, son, but maybe God wants you to sow and straw.”

“Thank you,
Daed
,” I replied, my voice gruff with emotion. “That means more to me than you can imagine.”

We shook hands a second time, and after that I felt about a thousand pounds lighter.

He wandered back to Amanda to help spread more tarps over the inventory, and I returned to my next task, that of demolition. Together with Noah and my brother-in-law Andy, we took apart the old bathroom, piece by piece, and hauled it all away, including the sink and toilet. Then we donned masks, took up sledgehammers, and began knocking down the interior bathroom walls.

We were just starting to make some progress when I noticed one of the workers waving from the back door.


Ya?
” I asked, stepping away from the mess. I pulled the mask from my face and wiped the sweat off my brow with the back of my arm.

“We have a problem out here,” he said, gesturing for me to come.

I couldn't imagine why I might be needed, but the urgency in his voice told me I should hurry. I set the mallet over to the side and told the other two I'd be back in a minute.

I went out the door and followed the guy toward the side of the building. As I came around the corner, I was surprised to see that the workers were just standing there, watching and listening as Kenny, the foreman from next door, stood in the middle of our construction area, yelling at Virgil.

On the ground around them were the stakes that had already been laid for the foundation, poking up out of the ground at intervals and connected by strings. As I moved closer, Kenny saw me coming and broke off mid-sentence. Then he began yelling at me instead.

“What do you think you're doing here?” he shouted.

“Expanding the feed store,” I replied, coming to a stop in front of him. “I told you about it that day we talked. Why? What's the problem?”

After all the inconvenience we'd put up with from the construction next door, I couldn't believe he was going to harass us about our project now. At least I had all the right permits, which I'd be happy to show him once he calmed down.

“Yeah, I remember what you said, but you never told me you were going to build right here.”

I stared at him for a long moment, trying to understand what was happening. “What's wrong with right here?”

He let out an angry growl and said, “It's not your property.”

“What do you mean? Of course it is.”

He shook his head emphatically. “No, it's not. Our hotel group is in negotiations to buy this land.”

“Negotiations? With whom? This tack shop is ours. It's been in my family for three generations!”

He shook his head, a scornful expression crossing his face. “I'm not talking about the tack shop. I'm just talking about the land right here, beside the store.” He gestured toward the ground all around us, explaining that the parcel in question ran two hundred and fifty feet from front to back and one hundred and seventy-five feet from side to side. “It's only an acre, but it's important that we acquire it.”

“Listen, I don't know where you're getting your information, but this entire place—including the piece of land we're standing on—belongs to my family. To my parents, Harlan and Erma Zook. And it's not for sale.”

Kenny hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Zook? No, that's not the owner's name. It's something else. I can't remember right now, but I'm sure it's in the paperwork.”

“In the paperwork,” I repeated, totally lost. What on earth was he talking about? “Listen Kenny, I assure you that my grandfather purchased this homestead almost sixty years ago. I can show you the deed. His name was Isaac Zook.”

“Deed or not, my records tell me otherwise,” Kenny replied, crossing his arms over his barrel-shaped chest. “You're going to have to cease and desist on your expansion until this is straightened out. You can direct your questions to our lawyer.”

Cease and desist? Was he crazy? I glanced over at Virgil, who seemed as startled and confused as I was. Then I turned back toward the store where, judging by the muffled booms, Noah and Andy were still hard at work, smashing the bathroom walls to bits.

Kenny shifted in place and cleared his throat. “Do I need to contact the authorities to make you stop?”

Authorities? Like, the police?
I shook my head in disbelief. “This is ridiculous. Wait here. I can straighten this whole thing out.”

Turning my back on the man, I went inside the shop in search of
Daed.
I found him in the main area with Amanda and told him that the foreman from next door was outside, telling me that we had to stop our expansion because this wasn't our property.

“He said what?” Amanda asked.

“I need to show him the deed. I'm hoping that'll clear things up.”

Daed
said, “It had better.”

“I assume it's in the box with all the important papers?”

With a nod from my father, I ran all the way to the main house at the top of the hill. I took the porch steps two at a time, relieved when I spotted
Mamm
at the clothesline out back. I really didn't want to explain anything right now.

Inside, I went straight to the living room and then to the old wooden breakfront where the family's important documents had always been kept. The lower cabinet held a fireproof metal box, so I knelt down and pulled it out, set it on the floor, and quickly began sifting through its contents—birth certificates, marriage licenses, and so on. I found the deed near the bottom in a manila file folder with several other property-related papers, including a survey map of the area.

Perfect. I grabbed the whole file, shoved the box back into the cabinet, and headed back out. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill,
Daed
, Amanda, Noah, and Andy had joined the other workers outside.

“Here's everything you need,” I said as I handed Kenny the file. “Proof this land is ours. See for yourself.”

He scanned the papers quickly and quietly, his frown setting even more deeply on his face. Around us, the only sounds I could hear were the whispers and murmurs of the workers. Suddenly, I found myself wishing that we could settle this matter in private, away from an audience. I turned my attention to Kenny, who seemed to be growing more confused the longer he studied the deed and survey map.

“Come with me,” he grunted. He handed the papers back, turned sharply in the direction of his construction site, and began walking.

I told the crew to take a break till we returned, and then
Daed
, Amanda, and I followed Kenny across our grassy lot, over the paved driveway next door, and onto the packed dirt of the site. Halfway there, as we rounded a giant backhoe, I saw where we were headed, a small trailer on the far edge of the property.

Daed
and I removed our hats as we stepped inside a room that was serving as an on-site office. Kenny sat at a metal desk, pulled out a drawer, and began rifling through a thick row of hanging file folders.

He found the document he sought and pulled it out. “Take a look at this.”

I took the page from him and studied it,
Daed
and Amanda flanking me to get a look as well.

It was identical to the map I'd produced with one critical difference. This map was missing a small portion of our homestead, a long, narrow rectangle that ran between the tack store and our westernmost property line. The rectangle on this page marked the space as being separate from rest of our property, and in its center was the numeral “23.”

Kenny scratched his head. “I don't know what to say. All I've been told is that we're planning to buy that portion of land to use in Phase II of our development project.”

“But it's not a separate portion,”
Daed
explained. “Our map clearly shows that it's part of our farm.”

“And my map shows that it isn't. Look, I'm just as confused as you. Like I said, you're gonna have to talk to our lawyer. In the meantime, you can't do any more work over there until this matter gets cleared up. Understand?”

“What I understand,” I replied, anger pulsing through my veins, “is that this whole thing is ridiculous. Zooks have been living on that land for the past sixty years—and will still be living here sixty years from now. Including lot twenty-three, which we have every intention of expanding on.”

Leaning back in his chair, Kenny offered an exaggerated shrug. “Hey, go ahead. Build all you want. But in the end, when I'm proven right, you're just going to have to take it all back down.”

“Proven right?” I demanded. “Are you kidding me?”

Sitting forward again, he slid open the desk drawer, rifled through its contents, and pulled out a business card that he handed over. “Like I said, talk to the lawyer. I hope he can straighten out this ownership issue nice and quick.”

“There
is
no ownership issue!” I shouted in a voice that reverberated around the trailer's metal walls. At my side,
Daed
let out a soft grunt, which was his way of telling me to calm down. I took a deep breath and blew it out. “
We're
the owners,” I continued at a lower volume. “It says so on our deed. Wherever this map of yours came from, it's obviously old and out of date.”

“Sorry,” he said, taking the page back from me and setting it on the desk, “but this map came from the city clerk's office within the last year or two. It was acquired when Starbrite was scouting properties for a hotel.”

“Starbrite?” I asked, the name sounding vaguely familiar.

“The resort's management group, Starbrite International. Anyway, the people there liked this spot but wanted a little more acreage, so they looked
into purchasing the various neighboring properties—including yours, I imagine. Though obviously you declined to sell.”

BOOK: The Amish Clockmaker
11.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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