A Promise for Miriam (40 page)

“Are you aware that we do not allow photography of our people?”

“Oh my heavens.” Now Drake stared at the ceiling as if he might find help from that direction. “Of course we will seek a release, and if necessary provide compensation—”

“Exodus twenty, verse four.” Samuel spoke for the first time, his voice echoing through the room with authority. “
You shall not make for yourself an image
—”

“What is he saying?” Drake turned to one of his employees. “Why is he speaking to me that way? Does he need a bottle of water? Is that why his voice is gravelly? Find out what he’s saying to me. He sounds like one of those televangelists. You know I can’t abide being preached at.”

Samuel wasn’t deterred by anything Drake said. In his short time in Wisconsin, Gabe had learned Samuel wasn’t one to stop in the midst of quoting the Bible. “…
or on the earth beneath or in the waters below
.”

“President Goodland, I would think you could conduct your village business in a more seemly matter.” Drake walked back to his table and began collecting his things.

“Does this mean you’ve finished with your presentation?” she asked.

“I’m finished here.”

His three merry men fell in line behind him as he turned toward the outside door.

“I don’t need your approval to purchase a building,” he reminded her.

“You do need our approval for building permits.”

Drake stopped and turned on her, reminding Gabe of a spring storm reversing course. “I would not suggest that you stand in my way—you and your small-minded group of people. I have lawyers who could bankrupt this village with legal filings, and in the meantime I will still build my abbey. I will build it—” he glared at Gabe and then took in Samuel, who now looked as if he had bowed his head in prayer. “I will build it, and I’ll call it
whatever
I please.”

Stepping closer to Mrs. Goodland, he lowered his voice enough to sound menacing but not enough to conceal his words. “Maybe you didn’t have your people google me quite enough. For all I know, you don’t even have people to do your meeting prep work for you.”

The thought seemed to disturb him, but he pushed on. “Whatever the reason, it’s apparent you don’t know whom you’re talking to. I didn’t have to stop by this little hovel of a town. You’re barely on the Wisconsin map, but you will be after I’m done with you, and one day you’ll thank me.”

He pressed his tie down again, and Gabe saw his diamond ring sparkle in what was left of the afternoon sun. “I’ll be back. I want the papers to have a picture of me on the steps of the despicable little hotel as it is now—all crumbly and rat infested. Then they will see what a difference I can make in three months when the shops are ready to open. Watch for the press announcement as soon as the papers are signed and the money transferred—within the week. I suggest your little Amish group forget about any idea of trying to stop me.”

The door rattled as his group exited the room.

For a moment there was silence, and then everyone began talking at once.

Mrs. Goodland was surrounded by her board, who were throwing around words such as “revenue,” “litigation,” and “property rights.” Gabe had no idea what it all meant, and he didn’t really care.

He pushed his folder away and stood up from the table. They hadn’t accomplished much, but at least he’d be able to pick Grace up from Abigail’s earlier than he’d planned.

Miriam put her hand on his arm. “We’re not leaving yet, are we?”

“
Ya
. It looks like the meeting is over.”

Her lovely face was all scrunched up in her worried look. Funny how he’d come to recognize that. He’d learned a whole lot about her in the near three months he’d known her. Some days he feared the next thing he’d be learning was that she was moving, marrying Aden, and starting a family in the other district. Well, wasn’t that what he’d told her to consider? Didn’t he want what was best for her? Was that best?

He pushed the questions away.

“But, Gabe. We need to come up with a way to stop them.”

“It was foolish even to come here.” Samuel placed his hat on his head firmly. “Didn’t I tell you that from the beginning? But I was elected to join you, so I did. Now that you see it was a futile thing to do, we can go back to our people where we belong.”

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Eli muttered. “It’s as bad as we feared, and he shouldn’t have photographed our children. That was wrong.”

Miriam moved behind him and stared down at the pictures, photos of her students. “What can we do about this? As he said to Mrs. Goodland, he’ll take them to court, and we’re not going to fight this in the
Englisch
legal system.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.” They all turned as the reporter walked up and joined their group. “Maybe there’s another way you can bring Drake around to your point of view.”

When they all simply stared at her, she held out her hand and introduced herself again. “Rae Caperton,
Lacrosse Tribune
.”

Gabe had seen the paper once or twice but never read it. Like most Amish, he read only the
Budget
.

Glancing at their little group, Gabe understood their suspicion of the newspaperwoman and her intentions. No doubt she was a nice enough lady—but she was
Englisch
, and she worked for the press. Both were things that as a group they preferred to avoid. “I’m not sure what you had in mind, Miss Caperton, but I doubt it’s something we’d entertain. As a rule, Amish folk—”

“Avoid intervening in
Englisch
affairs. Yes, I know, which is why I was surprised to see you here.”

Samuel jingled the change in his pocket. “If you understand it was a stretch for us to be here, then you probably also know we don’t often speak to news reporters.”

“I understand that, Mr. Gingerich, and I think I even appreciate why. It’s not often that the Amish community is represented fairly in the media.”

Gabe knew when someone was pulling on his suspenders, but Rae Caperton appeared genuine and concerned. He could see from the way Miriam stepped forward that she was interested in hearing the woman out, but he was surprised when Eli spoke up.

“If you have a solution to this chicken fight, I’d be willing to listen, but perhaps this isn’t the best place.” Eli glanced pointedly over toward Mrs. Goodland and her trustees, which was when the shouting started.

Chapter 49

M
iriam wanted to wade into the middle of the argument, pull the offending parties apart, and send them to the chalkboard to write sentences correcting their behavior.

She didn’t, but the urge was strong.

“In case you haven’t noticed, the village’s monetary chest isn’t overflowing.” The treasurer was a short, round man with longish hair who pounded the table as he spoke. “We need his money, and we need his jobs.”

“We still haven’t collected on the back taxes the previous owner of the hotel owes,” the assessor admitted. Tall and wiry, he worried his glasses as he spoke. “My sources say we’ll receive all of that and more with this new development project. It’s not a deal we can turn our backs on, Janice. Not if we want our jobs next year. I have children in college still. Do you think that tuition will pay itself?”

Mrs. Goodland hadn’t exactly lost her composure, but her face was flushed. “You’re not offering any solutions, Jim. I know we need the taxes paid.”

“And the jobs. We need those jobs here. Folks need work—”

“I have it,” she barked. “I’ve studied the unemployment figures same as you. There is no need to remind me about them. I’m not senile.”

“Don’t jump down my throat.” The tax assessor slumped into his chair. “Amish Abbey could be the biggest thing Cashton has seen in decades. And Carter’s right about the village treasury. It’s not overflowing by any means.”

“We manage to balance our budget,” Mrs. Goodland said.

Carter cleared his throat and nodded toward their audience.

“Perhaps we should be going,” Miriam murmured as Mrs. Goodland stood up and made her way toward them.

“I’m sorry that didn’t go well. I had no idea Drake had such a temper. I’d read he was flamboyant and I knew he was rich, but I never thought he’d go off like that—” Her hands came out in front of her, waving away the situation. Miriam almost had pity on her, but not quite. She was the one person who had the ability to make this situation go away.

“You’re going to allow him to build this place?” Samuel asked.

“I’m not sure we can stop him. We could slow him down perhaps, but legally I don’t know that he’s breaking any laws. He has a right to do what he will with the land he buys, once he buys it.” She glanced back at her treasurer, assessor, and the clerk—Miriam had forgotten her name.

Elia, that was it. She was a young Hispanic woman, with beautiful dark hair pulled back by a hair clip. She was currently stacking all the papers together and straightening the room.

“So you won’t do anything to stop him?” Gabe asked.

Mrs. Goodland pinched the bridge of her nose. “I sympathize with your position, Gabe. I do, but I’m not sure I
should
try to stop him.”

“And can he move as quickly as he said? He’ll begin by next week?”

“I suspect he was ready to close on the deal before he even came here. He probably never meant to negotiate with us at all. This was merely a public relations stunt only marginally important to him.”

“Did you look at the rest of this brochure?” Eli asked. “Amish Afghans—the Amish don’t make afghans, Mrs. Goodland. Phase two is worse. He’s putting in an Amish Astronomy. What do you suppose that will be? And Amish Aerials? What’s an aerial?”

She held up her hand to stop him, but Eli was on a roll. “Amish Alley is going to include a bar.”

“As long as he meets the ordinance requirements, alcohol sales are permissible.”

“It’s not the alcohol sale we object to,” Miriam explained. “It’s our name paired beside it. Imagine how you would feel if—”

“I don’t need to imagine. I told you. I understand—”

“Do you?” Gabe asked. “Take this one, for example. Amish Angels. I expect Mr. Drake will make little dolls with Plain clothes, wings, and beautiful ceramic faces, never stopping to learn that we don’t put faces on Amish dolls. It goes back to the Scripture Samuel quoted earlier.”

Samuel perked up, suddenly interested in the conversation again. “Exodus twenty, verse four.
You shall not make for yourself an image—”

“I remember, Mr. Gingerich. My father once made me memorize that very verse. I know it well, but I can’t impose the Bible on a business deal.”

“And possibly worst of all,” Gabe continued, “is this one—Amish Arcades. How did you describe this one, Samuel?”

“Games. Video games that children play. Surely you’ve seen them when you’ve been in town. They kill things.”

“Kill things,” Eli echoed.

“No. Not really. It’s only pretend, on a screen.” Mrs. Goodland’s voice had lost all conviction.

“Do you see? This shouldn’t be done with our name attached. There has to be a way to convince him that it’s wrong.” Gabe glanced at Rae Caperton, but the newswoman shook her head slightly, as if to say “Not here.”

“I’ll think on it,” Mrs. Goodland said. “I don’t want to raise any false hopes, though. While I don’t like his plans the way they stand, he doesn’t seem to be a man who changes his mind often. I wish I could be more helpful.”

She turned and walked back toward her group, and Miriam understood that they had been dismissed.

“I have an idea,” Rae said. She glanced back over at the board. “Let’s go across the street. The cafe’s still open, and they have pretty good coffee.”

Miriam figured they didn’t have anything to lose. Gabe shrugged.

Eli said, “Sure. They have gut pie too.”

Samuel blustered. “We have wasted enough time today. I suppose I’ll be heading home.”

“We need you on this, Samuel. We’re a group—the four of us.” Miriam reached forward and placed her hand on his arm. “We were all elected to represent the district. If we go back now, we go back with nothing.”

“Which is what I told you would happen before we came.”

“If we listen to Miss Caperton, there’s at least a chance she will have an idea,” Gabe reasoned. “What will it cost but another twenty minutes?”

Samuel shrugged, nodded, and followed them out of the building, but Miriam heard him mutter, “
Kaffi
ain’t free in that café, you know.”

A few minutes later they were sitting around a table at the café across the street. Miriam had been there maybe a dozen times, but she could tell it was Gabe’s first visit. He took in the checkered tablecloths, red country curtains, and grandmotherly waitresses—and then he glanced across at her and smiled. Her heart nearly tripped a beat.

He was amused with the decor, not with her.

Possibly. Or was he?

She still had not figured out Gabe Miller. From the night he’d had dinner at the schoolhouse, the night he’d leaned forward, took her hand, and told her he planned to marry again, she’d allowed herself to hope. She’d even gone to Aden’s community and spent the weekend there with her dad. She’d gone to see their lifestyle firsthand so she could tell Gabe that she’d considered it.