An Amish Christmas Bakery by Amy Clipston

Author:Amy Clipston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2019-08-12T00:00:00+00:00

Peter Kaufmann slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, the weight of it slamming into his back. He’d brought his own tools and belt even though he knew Atlee would have everything they needed to build the addition. There was just something about the feel of his own tools in his hands. He always did a better job when he used them.

He was surprised when Atlee offered him the work, but his timing couldn’t have been better. Peter had just finished a construction job in Fredericktown, no one in the area was hiring for other jobs until after Christmas, and he’d been growing a little concerned about being out of work that long.

He didn’t even know Atlee very well. He’d been a kid when his wife died, and the man had kept himself at arm’s length from the rest of the community for years as he grieved. When Atlee left Fredericktown to marry someone from Birch Creek, Peter was glad for him—and now he almost envied him too. The thought of leaving sometimes appealed to Peter, ever since . . .

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about her.

Atlee had arranged for a taxi to take Peter from the bus station to the Shetler home, and he made small talk with the driver during the short ride. As the car pulled into a driveway that led to a small white house, Peter spied the bakery next door. He paid the driver, hoisted his duffel bag on his shoulder again, and walked to the front door.

He knocked and waited for an answer. No one came. He knocked again, and when he still didn’t get an answer, he decided to go to the bakery. Maybe Atlee was there.

A bell rang as he opened the front door. The bakery was filled with simple decorations—baked goods decorated with colored ribbons, a large pine bow hanging over the top ledge of the window, a few rustic ornaments placed on the display tables and case. He breathed in a delicious mix of cinnamon, chocolate, and peppermint. His stomach rumbled. It was nearly four thirty, and he’d skipped lunch.

An older woman stood behind the long glass counter with a pile of receipts, a pencil, and a small notebook in front of her. “Hello. May I help you?”

“I’m looking for Atlee and Carolyn Shetler.”

“I’m Carolyn.”

“Hi. I’m Peter Kaufmann.”

“Ah, Peter.” The woman smiled and held out her hand. “Atlee’s working with Solomon Troyer this afternoon. He should be finishing up anytime now, so it won’t be long before he’s home. It was a last-minute job or else he’d be here. It’s already been a busy Christmas season for everyone in Birch Creek. I’m so glad you’re able to help us.”

He glanced again around the large room. It was a typical bakery, similar to one near Fredericktown he’d been to a couple of times. But it was quiet, and he didn’t see any customers. From the taxi, he’d noticed the community itself was quiet, without a lot of tourists common in the larger districts.

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