After she’d checked on Dat—who was still sleeping peacefully—she stoked the fire. Then she opened her Advent window from the day before and popped the candy in her mouth. If it were up to her, the chocolate would be her breakfast, but hopefully Dat would feel like eating. She read the reference for the verse. Psalm 5:11. She looked it up in her Bible. But let all those that put their trust in thee rejoice: let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them: let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee.
Rejoice. Shout for joy. Love thy name. It had been a long time since she’d felt any of those things. With Dat’s health scare, she was both rejoicing for his life—and fearful of the future. She said a short prayer, asking for God’s healing for Dat.
She waited to start breakfast until Dat finally woke just before ten. He’d never slept that late. Dat didn’t have much of an appetite either, and he only picked at his dippy eggs. After breakfast, he settled down in his chair. Noelle spent most of the rest of the day experimenting with making mini items. More whoopie pies—mint chocolate chip, peanut butter, marshmallow, and raspberry. Creamsticks. Half-moon pies—cherry, apple, and blackberry. And chocolate. Englischers seemed to like chocolate, more than Noelle had realized.
In the early afternoon, LuAnne stopped by with a chicken and broccoli casserole.
She called out a hello to Dat and then followed Noelle into the kitchen. “Moriah came over this morning and said you took Dawdi to the hospital last night.”
Noelle nodded. “He’s doing better. I need to make an appointment with a cardiologist though.”
As LuAnne put the casserole on the counter, she asked, “Ooh, what all are you baking?”
Noelle explained that she was making smaller items to sell at the Christmas Market. She grabbed a plate and filled it with some mini whoopie pies, creamsticks, and moon pies. She wrapped a towel over the top and handed it to LuAnne.
“Denki. Paul will be thrilled. The kids too.” She grinned. “And I already am.” Then her expression grew more serious. “It’s a great idea,” she said. “I think they’ll sell really well.”
Noelle brushed her hands on her apron. “I hope so.”
About an hour after LuAnne left, Salome stopped by. She hovered over Dat for a couple of minutes and was soon satisfied that he was doing better. She joined Noelle in the kitchen.
“LuAnne said you’re making new products.”
Noelle pointed to a box of peanut butter–filled whoopie pies. “Jah. Aren’t they cute?”
Salome rolled her eyes.
“I sold these on Friday—twelve boxes were gone by noon. They were a big hit.”
Salome put her hands into the pockets of her coat, which she hadn’t bothered to take off. She must not be planning to stay long. “Sales have been down.”
Noelle’s face warmed. “I think I can get them back up by selling the new items.”
Salome shook her head. “We’ve had a plan—Mamm’s plan—and it’s worked for years. Maybe it’s your selling that has sales down, not the products.”
Noelle was sure her face was bright red by now. She turned away from her sister and pulled another sheet of mini whoopie pie cookies from the oven.
“They look like those little French things,” Salome said. “Macarons.” She imitated a French accent. Noelle had no idea what she was talking about.
“Stick with what we do best,” Salome insisted.
“Do you plan to go to the market next week?”
Salome shook her head. “My chiropractor told me to take another week off.”
“What about Moriah?”
“She . . .” Salome wrinkled her nose. “Has plans.”
“Someone needs to stay with Dat, then, while I’m at the market,” Noelle said.
“Really?” Salome turned toward him.
“He’s at risk for falling,” Noelle explained. “He didn’t eat or drink enough yesterday, and the ER doc told him to see a cardiologist.”
“That sounds kind of serious.” Salome raised her eyebrows. “Maybe he can go over to LuAnne and Paul’s while you’re at the market. That would be good for Dat—and the kids too.”
Noelle pursed her lips to keep herself from saying anything, but she thought a full day over at LuAnne’s would wear him out. “Or maybe you, Ted, and Moriah could take turns with Dat here.”
Salome sighed. “I’ll let you know.”
Noelle heated the casserole for supper. As she pulled it out of the oven, a knock fell on the door, meaning it wasn’t Salome or Moriah. They’d both walk right in.
She opened it to see Holly’s smiling face, holding up a wad of money and an empty crate. “I sold all of your pies.”
Noelle ushered her into the house. “Denki.”
“And for fifteen dollars apiece.”
Noelle took the money. “Wow.” Holly was a good salesperson, just like Salome.
Holly held up a paper bag. “I also brought you something else. Smaller boxes for your mini whoopie pies. I figure you can sell a half dozen for ten dollars.”
Noelle didn’t think so, but she was interested in the boxes. She took the bag and pulled a box out. It was a fourth the size of the pie boxes.
“Is that your friend?” Dat called out.
“Jah, Dat. It’s Holly.”
“Invite her to eat with us.”
Noelle glanced at Holly. “Would you?”
“Carlos is out in the truck.”
Dat was standing now. “Ask him too.”
Holly gave Noelle a questioning look.
“Jah, we’d really like that,” Noelle said. “We have plenty.”
Both Carlos and Holly yawned several times during supper, and Noelle thought again of them going to the hospital the night before and then working a full day at the market. After they ate the casserole, homemade bread, green beans, and applesauce, Noelle served blackberry half-moon pies.
Holly raved over hers. “You’re selling these too. Right?”
Noelle shrugged. She hadn’t necessarily planned to sell all of the mini items. She wasn’t sure at all if she could stand up to Salome and branch out in a new direction. It wasn’t as if she would be selling at the market for long.
