My intention had been to be at the café at seven to start the soup, but in truth I had a long span of time until the café opened at nine. I showered and spent extra time combing out my hair and parting it in the center just right. I found a clean kapp and was thankful it didn’t require pressing. But my navy-blue dress needed ironing, even if a cotton and polyester blend fabric. No time to worry about a few wrinkles that would surely come out as the morning progressed. I pinned on my black apron. In my haste, I pricked a finger. I chalked up my clumsiness to fatigue and a jittery case of the nerves. Yes, I was anxious. My hands shook, and my thoughts raced.
Outside, tree branches, twigs, and leaves lay strewn about as if they’d been swept in by a tide. Planted pots were tipped over, their flowers littering the ground. One of the chairs on the house’s back porch lay on its side.
Minnie was nowhere to be seen. I assumed Beatrice had let her into the house. One of the huge Labrador retrievers galumphed toward me as I made my way to the café. I assured myself I had nothing to be afraid of and kept going, not allowing myself to succumb to my fears. After last night, I should be able to stand up to anything. But deep inside I was still nervous as I scurried to my new job. I’d heard dogs could smell fear. I must reek of it.
I brought out my keys, but the café’s front door was unlocked. Glancing through the glass wall, I saw light in the kitchen. Someone had beat me here. Or maybe Stephen had unlocked the door as a favor.
As I stepped inside, my nostrils caught the hint of split pea soup and a trace of smoked ham. I hurried to the kitchen and saw Beatrice’s rounded back as she stirred the metal vat I’d set out the day before to soak the peas.
She adjusted the heat, reducing it, and placed a lid atop the vat. She wore a white chef’s apron cinched around her ample waist, a patterned blouse—green with small yellow flowers—and again a calf-length black skirt. Both the blouse and skirt were nice enough to wear to an Englisch church service.
“What are you doing here?” My words charged out with an acerbic flair that was unwarranted. I’d wanted to prepare the soup. “Why are you cooking?”
She peered over her plump shoulder. “Stephen told me I should come in and help when needed. And, apparently, I am needed today.”
I looked up at the wall clock and saw it was seven thirty. “We don’t open until nine.”
“Never too early to start soup.” Beatrice pivoted toward me. “I couldn’t fall back to sleep once I’d awakened. Not in the big house all alone without the Yoders.”
I stepped around her and peered into the vat. Diced carrots, onions, and potatoes floated on the surface. “You put in carrots and potatoes?”
“Yes, I always do. Carrots sweeten the soup, and potatoes thicken it. Plus, I added a few herbs and that nice smoked ham bone.”
“Which herbs?”
“It’s my mama’s secret recipe, so I mustn’t divulge the exact ingredients.”
“But this café is open to the public. Someone could have a food allergy.” I doubted my declaration, but she owed me an explanation. Not only that, but she hadn’t cleaned up her mess. The knife and cutting board needed a thorough washing, and carrot tops and other debris needed to be tossed into the garbage. She must have noticed my looking over the disarray because she said, “I didn’t know where to put the carrot and potato peelings. I assume they’re saved for a pig farmer or put into compost.”
She was probably right, but I didn’t have the answers. So much to learn. “I’ll ask Stephen.”
“He may not come into the café all morning. Such a mess outside. He and his men will be busy readying the nursery for business. Plus, there’s still no electricity in the retail shop. Looks like receipts will have to be written out the old-fashioned way.” One corner of her mouth lifted. “The alte ways are often the best, as the Amish say.”
The fact she spoke a bit of Pennsylvania Dutch irked me for no good reason. “I’m glad for the generator, or the refrigerator would have shut off.” I heard its steady pumping.
“Yes, the food would go bad in no time.”
I was tempted to take a taste of the soup, but no steam rose from its surface. It hadn’t heated thoroughly, nor were the vegetables cooked. Not a fair assessment.
She sprinkled salt into the soup. “Don’t worry, Eva. It’ll be the best pea soup you ever ate.” She gave me a quirky wink that seemed out of character.
“I look forward to sampling it.” I figured I could learn a lot from her and scolded myself to remain humble. I’d been taught to respect my elders. But I wasn’t used to being talked down to as if I were a child. I guessed some of her better-than-thou attitude came from knowing about my former relationship with Jake. As his mother’s neighbor and friend, she had no doubt been privy to his antics. Plus a few tall tales.
She cleared her voice. “Well? Will I receive no show of gratitude?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Thank you very much.” I tried to compose an expression of appreciation on my face with a smile.
“Those other two young girls can tidy this area. I’ve seen them standing around with nothing to do. Idle hands are the devil’s plaything.” She lowered the flame on the stove top again. “Don’t let this soup burn. Nothing is worse than burned pea soup.” She glanced at me. “What soup are you making tomorrow?”
“I’d planned on vegetable barley, but I don’t know yet.”
“You’d better make sure you have all the ingredients. Did you order barley? Food doesn’t magically
