Free The Christmas Cradle by Charlotte Hubbard Page B

kitchen—”
    â€œAnd even if Lena and Josiah were married, it wouldn’t be proper for her to be out amongst the customers in her condition,” Miriam added.
    Naomi leaned out to assess the breakfast buffet, where Bishop Tom and retired preacher Gabe Glick were loading their plates. “I’d better refill the creamed chicken pan and have Lena make more waffles. Our new breakfast dish is a big hit.”
    When the timer dinged, Miriam opened the oven door. Her loaves of chocolate apple bread had risen into nut-crusted humps, and their cinnamon-cocoa fragrance would make the whole café smell luscious. Customers snapped up the goodies in the bakery case a lot faster when the aromas of her breads greeted them at the door.
    â€œMiriam, let me help you!” Savilla insisted as she grabbed some pot holders. “My word, how do you carry six loaves of hot bread at one time?”
    Miriam shrugged as the young woman grasped the rack’s other side. “I’ve baked my bread in big batches ever since we opened the Sweet Seasons,” she explained. “Makes more sense to have the pans in one rack than to handle pan after pan after pan. Denki for helpin’.”
    After she and Savilla had removed the six-loaf rack of apricot banana bread from the oven, Savilla inhaled deeply. “These smell terrific,” she murmured. “And Bishop Tom wants me to pass along his compliments on the chicken and waffles, too. He’s on his second plateful.”
    Miriam laughed, watching Lena remove steaming waffles from the two irons. “It’s the butter and milk from his cows, along with the chickens and eggs from our deacon, Reuben Riehl, that makes everything we serve extra-special gut . Send my compliments right back to the bishop, will ya?”
    Savilla’s laughter rang in the kitchen. “The city English we serve at our barbecues love knowing their food is locally grown. Never mind that we Amish have been growing what we eat for centuries.”
    â€œHere’s creamed chicken for the buffet table,” Naomi said from the stove.
    â€œI’m making these waffles as fast as I can,” Lena added as she closed the lids on her waffle irons. “Those guys are putting away a lot of food this morning.”
    â€œAnd they’re not gonna starve any time soon, so don’t get in a dither about bein’ a little behind,” Miriam said as Savilla carried the creamed chicken to the steam table.
    Lena focused on the waffle irons’ red monitor lights. Hannah began filling individual teapots with hot water to serve the residents of a nearby senior center, who’d come for their weekly breakfast outing. Miriam mixed powdered sugar, almond flavoring, and milk in a large glass measuring cup to drizzle over the fruit breads, pleased that her kitchen was running so smoothly. As she loosened the loaves from their pans, however, both Lena and Hannah cried out.
    â€œ Ach , I didn’t mean to bump—”
    â€œWatch out for this boiling—”
    â€œ Oh —oohh!”
    Lena’s waffles and Hannah’s hot water flew all over the center of the kitchen as the girls grabbed each other. Stainless-steel pots clattered to the floor and rolled around.
    â€œEverybody all right?” Miriam asked as she fetched the mop.
    â€œWe’re fine, but we’ve made a big mess!” Hannah exclaimed.
    â€œAnd now I’ve ruined the waffles, and it’ll be a long time before—before—” Lena burst into tears and turned away, her shoulders shuddering.
    Stepping carefully, Miriam mopped the puddles while Naomi scooped up the soggy waffles with a dustpan. Savilla hurried back into the kitchen and relieved Miriam of her mop.
    â€œBless her heart, Lena’s always been one to cry when something goes wrong,” she murmured.
    â€œI’ve noticed that, jah .” Miriam crossed the damp floor to where Hannah was trying her best to