Free Winter of Wishes by Charlotte Hubbard Page B

build—”
    “And if it’s bein’ financed by Derek Shotwell’s bank,” Aaron joined in with a shake
     of his head. “I was glad Micah was there with us when Hiram came along to quiz us,
     on account of how I didn’t know much about those particulars.”
    “Nor did we think—even though Hiram’s the bishop—he had any call to be keepin’ account
     of your new house,” Seth added.
    “Now why am I not surprised?” Ben murmured as he looked around the crowd of men who
     were setting up tables. “When was this goin’ on? Just lately?”
    “ Jah , he was there yesterday morning. After we left the café.”
    “ Denki for lettin’ me know. Something tells me he might’ve been chattin’ up my brothers,
     as well, if he was over at the house.” Ben spotted Luke and Ira near the kitchen door,
     where Annie Mae Knepp and Millie Glick stood ready with plates and silverware. Now there was fuel for Bishop Knepp’s fire, as Luke had been spending plenty of his evenings
     with the bishop’s eldest daughter.
    Ben made his way toward them, considering how to speak to his brothers without involving
     the girls. He reminded himself that as their bishop, Hiram had the authority to warn
     them about becoming too worldly or so heavily indebted they couldn’t keep up with
     their bills. But this latest visit to his future home—talking with the carpenters
     rather than with him—raised a red flag.
    “Say, fellas,” he said as he clapped his brothers on the shoulders, “I’m wonderin’
     if I can pull ya away from these perty girls to help me for a few.”
    Ira looked ready to smart off, but Luke smiled gallantly at Annie Mae and then followed
     Ben through the kitchen to Miriam’s front porch. “What’s goin’ on, Bennie?” he asked
     as they stepped outside into the brisk wind. “Have Aunt Jerusalem and Aunt Nazareth
     been waggin’ your tail—waggin’ their tongues—about my keepin’ company with Annie Mae?”
    Ben gestured toward some boxes of food to be carried into the kitchen, pies and salads
     that wouldn’t fit in Miriam’s fridge but had stayed plenty cold enough out here on
     this late November day. “ Should they be tellin’ me things?” he countered playfully. “Like, about how Hiram thinks
     you’re leadin’ his daughter astray, keepin’ her from bein’ baptized into the church?”
    “Oh, that subject’s come up, for sure and for certain!” Ira replied with a laugh.
     “And Hiram was bendin’ our ears about that—amongst other things—the other day when
     we were settlin’ into our rooms above the mill.”
    Again, Ben noted that the bishop had made his visit while he wasn’t there. “Funny
     you should say so,” he remarked in a lowered voice. “He didn’t by chance ask ya how
     much the mill was costin’? Or tell ya he thought the Brenneman boys made the place
     fancier than it needed to be?”
    Luke’s and Ira’s exchanged glance told Ben these subjects had indeed been discussed.
    “Truth be told, Hiram did seem to be snoopin’,” Luke said. “Didn’t want to bother
     ya with this, knowin’ how he’s been keepin’ such close tabs on you and Miriam.”
    Ben smiled to himself. Luke was adept at selling prospective farmers and storekeepers
     on the idea of raising specialty grains and carrying the milled flours in their stores:
     his head for business had earned him enough money to fund the Mill at Willow Ridge
     without needing a loan—no small accomplishment for a man who’d recently turned thirty.
     “So ya handled the bishop’s questions all right? Didn’t get riled up about him nosin’
     into your business?”
    Luke shrugged. “First time we met Hiram, his feathers were ruffled about us buildin’
     the mill on Miriam’s land, maybe cheatin’ her out of property that had been her husband’s,”
     he recalled. “So from the get-go, I figured him for a fella who’d make it his business
     to watch my business.”
    Ben nodded. “Which, most