An Unexpected Amish Proposal

Book 1: Surprised by Love

by Rachel J. Good

Genres: Religious & Inspirational

Synopsis

Sometimes love is found in the most unexpected places—as three blessed men will discover in Rachel J. Good's heartwarming Amish romance series, set in a bustling Pennsylvania community . . .
 
When an organic farm causes rents to skyrocket at the Valley Green Farmer's Market, Fern Blauch's family baked goods stand is driven to the edge of eviction. . . . Until a mysterious temporary reprieve. Fern is confused when she discovers the benefactor is barbecued chicken stand owner—and her longtime crush—Gideon Hartzler. She's grateful, but pridefully tells him she intends to pay him back. If only she can find a new place to sell her wares . . .
 
To stay competitive, and help as many others as he can, Gideon expands his stand to provide full meals—including dessert. That's where Fern comes in. As the two work long hours, side-by-side, business booms—and so does their attraction. Still, the demands of caring for aging parents and struggling relatives cause them to hide any feelings beyond friendship. But as new challenges emerge and Gideon and Fern turn more deeply to their faith, and to each other, will love find a place at their table?
 

Release date: March 30, 2021

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 312

Sample

Fern Blauch hummed as she arranged cinnamon rolls in her glass case at the Valley Green Farmer’s Market. She’d baked extra today because they always sold so fast. Most Saturdays, she sold out within an hour or two.

The warm, yeasty smell of sticky buns perfumed the air as she filled the next shelf. With their syrupy coating dotted with nuts, they were her second-best seller. She arranged bear claws and pastries beside them. As she opened a container of cupcakes, Russell Evans, the new owner of the market, strode toward her.

“Here,” he said gruffly, holding out a paper. “The new rental agreement for your stand.”

Fern missed Russell’s father, who’d retired two months ago. He’d been jolly and kind, unlike Russell, who was a hard-edged businessman.

She took the paper he held out. Before she had time to glance at it, he scuttled off toward the next stand. No hellos, goodbyes, or pleasantries. His dad always took time to chat with everyone.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to read the rent increase for next year. Several stand owners who’d gotten their agreements on Tuesday had grumbled. She and the others in this front row hadn’t seen theirs yet.

Fern ran her finger down the first paragraphs to—She sucked in a breath. Impossible. She must have read it wrong. But, no, the figure in bold print indicated her rent had tripled.

No way could she afford this. Her parents counted on her money for household bills. She’d have none left.

Russell power walked past her stand. Was he fleeing from the three stand owners with their arms out and shock on their faces?

“Could I talk to you a minute?” Fern called. “I think there’s a mistake.”

“No mistake,” he snapped, his voice harsh. “If you don’t pay it, you’re out at the end of this month.”

Shell-shocked, Fern stood there, the paper extended, as he passed. He couldn’t be serious.

An Amish man in his early eighties shuffled over to her. “Did you get one of these?” His hand shaking, Mose Miller held up a paper like Fern’s. He looked about to faint.

“Come sit down.” She offered him the high wooden stool behind her counter.

“I can’t believe it. I’ve been selling here for more than fifty years.” Mose’s head shook back and forth. “I understand yearly rent increases, but this?” The paper rattled in his hands. “Three times my stand rent? It’s like he wants to put us out of business.”

“He does,” a man’s voice said behind Fern. “I overheard him discussing terms with that new organic distributor. Ripley’s or Ridley’s or something. You know, that huge bright blue monstrosity that stands out like a sore thumb on the hill.”

Nick Green, the Englisch candy store owner, pointed toward his left. Although no windows allowed a view of the fields on that side of the building, they all nodded. Quite a few people had protested the prefab turquoise metal warehouse plunked down amidst acres of cornfields and white wooden farmhouses.

“I’m not about to give up my stand.” Nick clenched his fists. “My grandmother started this business here in this very spot when the market opened in 1929. I have great-great-grandchildren of her first customers coming here for candy.”

“I don’t make enough to pay this.” Mose tottered back toward his stand, looking ill.

Fern didn’t want to see Mose, who used to take her hand and treat her to ice-cream cones on hot summer days when she was a little girl, lose his business. He needed his income to buy medication for his wife. “It’s not fair,” she burst out.

“You’re darn right about that. If I had the money, I’d sue. I do plan to give him a piece of my mind.” Nick had a hot temper, and his loud tone and clenched fists didn’t bode well for Russell Evans.

Several other people filtered over. A few waved letters in their hands. As the number of letter holders grew to five, Nick’s glower increased.

The florist in the next aisle shook her head. “Our rent went up, but not by that much.”

Soon, Fern found herself in the midst of an irate crowd as other stand holders objected to their friends’ exorbitant rents.

“I’m not going to let him get away with this.” Nick shook his agreement in Fern’s face.

“What’s going on?” A tall blond Amish man laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Is everything all right here?”

Gideon Hartzler’s deep, smooth voice had a calming effect on everyone. He placed his body between Nick and Fern as if suspecting Nick’s anger was directed toward her.

At his protectiveness, Fern’s heart fluttered. She’d always admired him from afar, but he never seemed to notice her.

For all the attention he paid her when she bought barbecued chicken for lunch, she could have been a piece of furniture or an extension of his counter. His impersonal Next always sent her pulse into overdrive, but he never even glanced in her direction as he asked, The usual? Then he took her money, gave her the correct change, and handed her two chicken legs with fries. At least he always remembered her order.

But right now, he appeared worried about her.

“I-I’m all right,” she assured him. He couldn’t know the shakiness of her words came from being near him, not from being upset. Well, she was upset, but not with Nick.

Gideon glared at Nick.

Nick held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t bother her. That did.” He pointed to the paper in Fern’s trembling hands.

Fern prayed Gideon would mistake her nervousness around him for distress over the letter.

When he turned his gaze in her direction, Fern’s knees went weak. If she didn’t sit down, she might . . .

“May I?” he asked, holding out a hand for her letter.

She extended the paper, careful not to brush the strong fingers that closed over it.

As Gideon read down the page, his jaw clenched. “This can’t be right. They’re charging you almost twice what I pay? For this?” He swept his hand in the direction of her small L-shaped glass case, which bordered a support pole on one side and stood about five feet from the front wall of the building.

She nodded. “But maybe your rent will be going up too.”

“Not this much. I got my new rates yesterday. The increase was steep, but not like yours. It’s almost like—”

“Like they’re trying to evict us,” Nick Green supplied. “Here’s mine.”

“And mine.” The Englisch woman who sold dried herbs at the end of their row held out hers.

“They tripled the rents for this whole row.” Fern glanced up at Gideon and then wished she hadn’t.

Gideon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He’d made the mistake of looking at Fern. So small, so delicate, so in need of protection. No way would he let himself go down that path. He had enough people to protect already.

But he couldn’t allow this injustice. He had to do something. Not only for Fern, but for all the vendors.

“They’re trying to get rid of us.”

At Nick’s accusation, Gideon’s eyes flew open. “But why?”

As Nick explained about the new organic farm, Gideon’s heart sank. That slick outfit would probably pay these rates and more so they could have the whole front wall by the entrance. But what about these sellers? The ones who’d been here for ages?

Two stands away, Mose sat on his rickety folding chair, his head in his hands.

“Mose got one too?” he asked.

“Jah.” Fern’s soft, sympathetic tone made him even more eager to help.

Gideon had come to work with his father from the time he was little. Mose had often treated him to his favorite candy at Nick’s stand. Back then, Nick’s mother had run the business, and Gideon had shared candy and played with Fern when she was five and he was six. Hard to believe that nineteen years had passed.

He and Fern had enjoyed each other’s company until he became a teenager. Then they’d both become shy and awkward with each other. Later, Gideon avoided Fern altogether after his brother—

Pushing away the painful memories, Gideon focused on the situation in front of him. He had an idea of one way to help, at least temporarily, but Nick shouldered his way past.

“I’m going up there to confront him.” Nick stormed toward the central staircase. “He won’t get away with this.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Fern said softly.

“I agree.” Once again, Gideon looked in her direction and wished he hadn’t. He longed to reach out and smooth the worried frown from her brow.

He jerked his gaze away to stare after Nick, but all he wanted to do was comfort Fern.

What’s the matter with you? No matter how appealing, Fern was off-limits. And so was any other woman.

“I’d better get back to work,” Gideon forced himself to say. He rushed back to his stand, but he couldn’t keep his mind off the problem. As much as he hoped Nick would solve the situation, Gideon suspected Nick’s hot temper might only worsen it.

A short while later, shouting filtered down from the floor above. A door slammed, and Nick stomped down the steps and past Gideon’s barbecued chicken stand.

Gideon didn’t have to ask how the meeting went. Nick’s strident tones carried through the market.

“He’s impossible!” Nick shouted. “Wouldn’t budge an inch. I told him I planned to sue, and he grinned. He knows I can’t afford it.”

A soft voice, probably Fern’s, said something soothing. Gideon was too far away to make out the words, but Nick quieted.

Gideon couldn’t let Russell put everyone out of business. But he had no idea how to convince the market owner to put people’s lives before higher profits.

All day long, between customers, Fern scribbled figures in the back of the small notebook where she recorded each day’s inventory at opening and closing, along with her total sales. She flipped through the pages.

Her daed did the accounting and paid the taxes, so Fern had never worried about the stand making a large profit. She turned the money over to him, and he gave her whatever she needed to buy baking supplies. They never discussed her earnings, but the money she made covered most of the household bills, especially now that Mamm’s hands were too arthritic to sew quilts and Daed’s stroke had confined him to a walker. They couldn’t count on her brother, Aaron, for help until he returned from his mission trip assisting with the flood cleanup. He’d gone for the usual two weeks but had extended his stay. He insisted his conscience wouldn’t let him leave when so much work still needed to be done.

Fern did some quick calculations. Even if she doubled or tripled her sales of baked goods, they’d end up paying more in stand rent each month than she was making.

Someone tapped at the counter, and she jumped up. Her book tumbled to the floor. “Sorry.” She pushed the problem from her mind and waited on the line of customers.

She stayed busy, leaving her little time to worry. But it also meant no daydreaming about Gideon, which was probably for the best.

After speaking to Russell, Nick had clomped over, complaining loudly. She’d managed to calm him temporarily by nodding in the direction of her wide-eyed customers. She promised to talk to him after closing, but at the end of the day, he draped sheets over his candy, raced out the door, and peeled out of the parking lot in his pickup truck.

Her heart heavy, Fern called goodbye to Mose as he limped toward the door. He hadn’t even packed up the leftover vegetables on his table. They’d probably go bad before the market reopened on Tuesday.

“Mose, I’m taking my leftover baked goods to the food kitchen. Would it be all right if I take your vegetables?”

He turned and waved toward his produce. “Take whatever you want.” Then, shoulders slumped, he headed out the door.

In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen Mose so discouraged. He’d always been upbeat and cheerful, no matter what circumstances he’d endured. Even now, with his wife’s treatments, he praised God for each day they had together.

Lord, please show me a way to help Mose.

If she weren’t about to lose her own stand, she’d ask Daed if they could help Mose. But most likely, she wouldn’t have a stand at the end of this month either.

Tomorrow was Sunday, but first thing Monday morning, she’d look into other markets to see if any had openings. Maybe she could find places for all of them.

She’d hate to leave Valley Green Farmer’s Market, because she grew up here and it was close to home. Mamm would be devastated. Her mother had worked at the market stand with her own mamm. So many memories.

After Fern packed up her leftovers and cleaned the glass food cases at the end of the day, she couldn’t help replaying Gideon’s protecting her when he thought Nick was upsetting her. Her pulse still jumped at the thought that he’d cared enough to check.

The only problem was that he had no interest in her. Besides, she had enough other concerns right now. She needed to put Gideon out of her mind. But her heart refused to cooperate.

At dinner that night, Fern fidgeted in her chair as she waited for her parents to finish eating. She’d only taken a small amount and picked at her food, but she didn’t want to spoil their meals. She’d let them enjoy their food before she dropped her bombshell.

Mamm glanced at Fern’s plate and then inspected her face. “Are you sick, dochder?”

“Neh, I had some bad news today. I’ll tell you after you’ve eaten.”

Now Daed stared at her too. “Bad enough that you can’t eat?”

Fern dipped her fork into her mashed potatoes and lifted them to her lips. The thought of swallowing them almost gagged her.

“If the news is that awful, maybe you should tell us now,” Daed said.

Forcing the bite into her mouth gave her a few seconds before answering. How could she tell them she’d be out of work in two weeks? Even worse, they wouldn’t be able to send money to her brother.

Mamm set her silverware on her plate. “Your daed’s right. Sharing burdens helps lighten them.”

Often that proved true, but this news would increase everyone’s pain.

“Fern?” Daed’s tone demanded a response.

She choked down the gluey mass of potatoes. “Russell Evans stopped by the stands to give us our new contracts.” Swallowing hard, she forced herself to continue. “He increased the rent . . .”

“We’ve been expecting that.”

Jah, they had. “But we didn’t expect the rent to triple.”

Mamm gasped.

“Triple?” Daed shook his head as if he’d misheard. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She’d been handing over the rent checks every quarter.

Daed winced. “Let me see the paperwork as soon as we finish supper.”

They ate in silence, and both of her parents seemed to have lost their appetites too, but they all cleaned their plates anyway. After Fern whisked the dishes off the table, she went to get the rental agreement.

Daed read through the contract. Then he slid off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Finally, he spoke. “It’s not the end of the world. God has a reason for this.”

Although her heart agreed, Fern’s mind whirled. What were they going to do?

Mamm left the dishes soaking and sank into the chair beside Daed. “What about Aaron?”

Daed met her eyes, and they shared a long, sorrow-filled look. “Unless we can get another stand set up elsewhere in the next two weeks, we may have to stop sending money to him and the mission. I pray that won’t be necessary.”

“We can go without things here to be sure he doesn’t go hungry.”

Of course. They all made do so they could send extra money to Aaron. He’d been in South Carolina since the flood, working on the mission project Fern had asked to join. Instead, her parents had decided it would make more sense for her to keep working at the market to make money. They sent her younger, rebellious brother, Aaron, in her place. As Daed pointed out, Aaron could handle the construction work that Fern couldn’t.

She’d offered to go as a cook—they always needed cooks to feed the workers. But her parents depended on her income. She managed to hide her disappointment better than Aaron, who made no secret of his reluctance. None of them could believe his recent transformation. After he’d completed his two-week stint, he’d decided to stay and keep working.

Mamm had beamed as she read Aaron’s letter announcing the news. “God has worked a miracle in our sohn’s life. Instead of getting into trouble, he wants to dedicate his life to helping others.”

They all marveled at the change in Aaron and prayed for him daily. When his living expenses increased, Fern baked longer hours to make more money. They also cut corners at home so they could send Aaron extra money for building supplies to help the Mennonite mission with the cleanup and rebuilding.

Fern tried not to begrudge her brother the money and the chance to participate in the mission work she’d longed to do, but some days—like today—it proved hard. She’d be stuck in the market stand for the rest of her life. Unless she married.

Where had that thought come from? No doubt being around Gideon today had sparked that wayward idea. She shook it off. No time to think about hopeless causes—like mission trips and Gideon’s love.

Right now, she needed to concentrate on figuring out how to make money to support her family.

On Monday morning, Daed took out the accounting ledgers and scribbled figures on scrap paper while Fern cleaned the kitchen after breakfast. Mamm helped when she could, but Fern could see her mother was in pain.

Guiding Mamm to the table, Fern said, “Sit down, and I’ll finish.”

She’d put away the last dish when Daed tapped his pen on some numbers, circled one final figure, and sighed.

“Even if you double what you’re making, dochder, we can’t pay the higher rent and send enough money to Aaron. I’ll talk to Russell to see if he’ll lower the cost.”

“Nick tried, but Russell wouldn’t budge.”

“He raised Nick’s rent this much?”

“Jah, and Mose’s too.”

Daed’s eyebrow rose. “What’s Russell trying to do? Get rid of everyone in the market?”

“Not everyone. Gideon’s rent went up, but not by that much.” Her face heated. Why had she mentioned his name? She was grateful Daed remained absorbed in staring at the numbers.

“So only certain stands are getting the triple rent?”

“Just the five stands closest to the front door. Nick says that new organic farm wants that whole space.”

“I see.” Daed stroked his beard. “Then there’s little sense in trying to get Russell to change his mind.”

Tears welled in Mamm’s eyes. “We’ll have to look for other markets.”

Daed patted her hand. “I’ll check with Russell first. You and your mamm started that stand, and Mose and Nick have been there even longer. That should count for something.”

Fern doubted anyone could talk Russell out of the rent increase, but Daed should at least try. He wouldn’t be as abrasive as Nick. Perhaps Russell would listen.

Maybe.

All weekend long, Gideon couldn’t get Fern—and the other stand owners, of course—off his mind. Although he had to admit, no matter how much he tried to think of other things, the image of Fern’s worried face crowded out all other thoughts. He had to help her.

He came up with an idea that might work, if he could get Russell to agree. Gideon waited impatiently for a chance to discuss his offer with Russell. He prayed the two-day break had given Russell time to calm down after his encounter with Nick.

Early Tuesday morning, Gideon mounted the stairs to Russell’s office. He hoped to find the market owner at his desk. After a quick look around to be sure the small upstairs craft shops were still closed, Gideon headed down the hall.

He passed an older Amish man dragging his left leg along as he leaned on a walker. As eager as Gideon was to talk to Russell, he wanted to be sure the man got down the stairs safely. From the expression on his face, the man had received bad news.

“Is everything all right?” Gideon asked.

The man shook his head. “Neh, but God has His reasons.”

“Jah, he does.” Gideon said a quick prayer that God would help this man. Right now, Gideon had to help the man as well.

From the set of the older man’s jaw, he wouldn’t accept an offer of assistance down the stairs. Before the man reached the steps, Gideon hurried past him and started down the stairs slowly. If the man tripped or fell, Gideon’s body would block him from tumbling the rest of the way. He tried to match his speed to that of the man behind him.

When they reached the first floor, the man gave Gideon a questioning look. He needed an excuse for coming down here.

“I forgot something in my buggy,” Gideon told him. He’d get the pad and pen he’d left on the seat. He might need them when he talked to Russell.

The man nodded, but his eyes said he didn’t quite believe Gideon’s reason.

Gideon slowed his gait to match the man’s. “Do you have space here?” Gideon asked. He hadn’t seen the man before, but he could be the owner of one of the newer shops upstairs.

“Neh, not anymore.”

Gideon wanted to ask about the man’s former business, but the sadness in the older man’s eyes stopped any questions. Instead, Gideon walked silently beside the man and moved ahead to open the heavy wooden market door.

He kept an eye on the man as he headed to his buggy. Gideon wanted to rush over and give the man a boost when he struggled to get in, but the man’s proud demeanor warned he wouldn’t accept any help.

Once the man made it safely inside and his buggy started off, Gideon grabbed his pad and pen. He raced into the market and took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t have much time to corner Russell before the other sellers arrived. He hurried down the hall and through Russell’s open office door.

His feet propped up on the antique wooden desk, Russell leaned back in his cushy chair, chatting on the phone. “Yep, should be able to let you move in the first of next month.”

Spying Gideon in the doorway, he frowned. “Listen, I’ll have to call you back. Something I need to deal with here.” He hung up. “I don’t appreciate being interrupted before we open.”

“I’m sorry, but this is important.”

“If you’re here to protest your rent increase, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve heard enough griping today. I’d hate to lose you, but—”

Of course he would. Gideon’s stand was the second largest in the market, and with his planned expansion, he’d be almost as large as Miller’s Meats. Although if the organic stand took up the whole front section of the market, they’d be much bigger than Gideon’s and Miller’s put together.

That’s what he’d come here to talk about. The organic business. “I’m concerned about the stand owners who got the triple rent increases.”

Russell sneered. “What’s it to you? I didn’t raise your rent that high, but I could.”

Gideon ignored Russell’s threatening tone. “All five of those stands have been part of this market for years.” He wanted to point out that Nick’s family had been one of the original stand owners, but no sense in annoying Russell by reminding him of that earlier confrontation.

“Yeah, they’ve been around forever. Time for a change. You’re modernizing your business. So should I.”

“But customers count on those stands.”

“They’ll get over it. Plus, those old people shuffling in here with their sniveling grandchildren to buy one cupcake or a little bag of candy for old times’ sake aren’t the customers I want to attract.”

Gideon pressed his lips together to keep from defending those old-timers. He always loved it when elderly customers remembered him toddling after his father or grandfather. And he especially enjoyed meeting their grandchildren, or even great-grandchildren. But Gideon didn’t want to rub Russell the wrong way before making his proposal.

Russell lowered his feet and leaned over the desk, his eyes intense. “You’re an example of the kind of forward-thinking stand owners I want. Organic chicken. People love it. Now we’ll have Ridley’s organic meats and specialty produce. That’s what brings in the upscale customers.” He rubbed his hands together.

“Your father kept a mix of both kinds of customers, and he seemed to do well.”

With a wave of his hand, Russell dismissed Gideon’s reminder. “Pops was too sentimental. You can’t do business like that nowadays. Not if you want to get ahead.”

Russell’s attitude made Gideon sad. He saw nothing wrong with being sentimental or appreciating families, especially ones who’d made your business grow. But the conversation had gotten off track, and he needed to make his own point.

Taking a deep breath, he offered, “I’ll give you half of the rent increase you’re charging all the stands along the front wall and pay for their next quarter up front if you don’t increase their rent for the next three months.”

“Absolutely not.”

Gideon refused to accept that flat-out rejection. “If you let me pay that reduced rate, I’ll start my expansion next month at the cost we agreed on. If not, I’ll look into moving my business elsewhere.”

Russell’s lips moved, as if silently calculating what he’d gain or lose. After a few moments, his eyes flickered. Crimson suffused his face. “This is blackmail.”

Perhaps from his point of view it was, but Gideon had intended it to be a deal Russell couldn’t refuse. And he hoped an immediate payment might sweeten the arrangement.

Russell’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I won’t settle for less than three-fourths of the rent.”

Gideon did some swift mental figuring. He’d really hoped to get his brother’s debt cleared up. The exorbitant interest rate was killing him. If he accepted Russell’s terms, it meant only paying the minimum payment on the loan. He’d also have to put several of his expansion plans on hold until he paid off what Thomas had owed.

“All right,” he said finally.

“On second thought, let’s make it one month instead of a quarter.”

“Neh, it needs to be a quarter.” Gideon hoped the organic farm would look elsewhere instead of waiting that long. He couldn’t keep paying the rent after that, but Russell might be amenable to negotiating the stand rents . . .