to do ticking itself off in her mind.
After a tasty lunch of cheese, pickles, peanut butter spread in a thick layer on Evie’s homemade bread, jam, and two kinds of pie, everyone trickled outside to enjoy the warm sunshine and visit for a while before the ride home.
Pris’s buddy bunch had already congregated in a circle at the far end of the garden, exchanging news and taking sidelong glances at the sixteen- and seventeen-year-old boys hanging out by the barn door.
Rosanne Kanagy, her sidekick, as a girl’s best friend was known in their district, bumped shoulders with her as Pris merged seamlessly into the group and the girl on the other side made room for her. “I haven’t seen you in days. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. But until Dat sees that I’ve learned my lesson after that field caught on fire, I may as well be working two jobs.”
“You didn’t start that fire—you put it out. But we’ve plowed that ground before. Any news from Joe?”
“He writes every week. They’ve just been on a trail ride with some Japanese businessmen, and Joe says it went well.”
Rosanne looked as if she couldn’t believe it. “What are Japanese businessmen doing at a dude ranch riding horses?”
Priscilla shrugged. “Joe says it was a team-building exercise. I don’t even know what that means, or why they needed to come all the way from Japan to do it, but the end result was that he and Simon both got a hundred-dollar tip.”
By now everyone was listening, and Pris pushed her glasses up her nose self-consciously.
“Do you like being a Maud at the Rose Arbor?” one of the other girls asked. “I’ve never been in there—I’ve heard it’s nice.”
“It is nice,” Pris said, glad to share something she enjoyed. “Each bedroom is named after a different kind of rose, and Henry Byler made mugs for Ginny Hochstetler, with the roses painted on the side.”
“I hear he’s sweet on her,” Rosanne said. “Isn’t she Mennonite?”
“Her husband was. Very liberal—they’re divorced. I don’t know what church she goes to now.”
Rosanne nodded. “I saw them driving together in the car, her and Henry. She was laughing.”
“She laughs a lot,” Pris told them with a smile. “Ginny can see the funny side of just about anything. Even the Parkers. They’re staying there right now. She made eggs on stuffed French toast and the husband asked her to do his eggs over. They weren’t cooked right.”
“How can you cook an egg wrong?” someone wanted to know. “You put it in the pan, cook it until it’s not runny, and eat it.”
“He wanted his just so, runny but not transparent, and finally he went into the kitchen with her and did it himself,” Priscilla said. “I was in there folding napkins and couldn’t believe anyone would be so ungrateful for the meal served to him that he would criticize it. But she just laughed and said she’d learned something.”
“He’d be making his own breakfast every day if it was me,” Rosanne said. “But I guess for two hundred dollars a night, he can afford to pay for two breakfasts.”
“I can see why his kids are the way they are,” Priscilla confided, and the little circle leaned in to listen. “The older boy flirts all the time and follows me around while I make the beds. He’s supposed to be on vacation, but he has nothing to do so he’s bored silly. I finally asked him if he’d like to help and he went away, only to follow me down to the creek and try to walk with me.”
“Is he good-looking?” the girl on her left said with a laugh.
“He’s so exhausting I’ve stopped paying attention to his looks,” Priscilla said with some asperity. “Lucky thing Henry Byler was there and distracted him long enough for me to get up to the field and home. I don’t want him knowing where I live or he’ll be whining at the door like a lost puppy.”
“Cheer up—it’s not forever,” Rosanne said. “They have to go back to wherever they’re from
After a tasty lunch of cheese, pickles, peanut butter spread in a thick layer on Evie’s homemade bread, jam, and two kinds of pie, everyone trickled outside to enjoy the warm sunshine and visit for a while before the ride home.
Pris’s buddy bunch had already congregated in a circle at the far end of the garden, exchanging news and taking sidelong glances at the sixteen- and seventeen-year-old boys hanging out by the barn door.
Rosanne Kanagy, her sidekick, as a girl’s best friend was known in their district, bumped shoulders with her as Pris merged seamlessly into the group and the girl on the other side made room for her. “I haven’t seen you in days. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. But until Dat sees that I’ve learned my lesson after that field caught on fire, I may as well be working two jobs.”
“You didn’t start that fire—you put it out. But we’ve plowed that ground before. Any news from Joe?”
“He writes every week. They’ve just been on a trail ride with some Japanese businessmen, and Joe says it went well.”
Rosanne looked as if she couldn’t believe it. “What are Japanese businessmen doing at a dude ranch riding horses?”
Priscilla shrugged. “Joe says it was a team-building exercise. I don’t even know what that means, or why they needed to come all the way from Japan to do it, but the end result was that he and Simon both got a hundred-dollar tip.”
By now everyone was listening, and Pris pushed her glasses up her nose self-consciously.
“Do you like being a Maud at the Rose Arbor?” one of the other girls asked. “I’ve never been in there—I’ve heard it’s nice.”
“It is nice,” Pris said, glad to share something she enjoyed. “Each bedroom is named after a different kind of rose, and Henry Byler made mugs for Ginny Hochstetler, with the roses painted on the side.”
“I hear he’s sweet on her,” Rosanne said. “Isn’t she Mennonite?”
“Her husband was. Very liberal—they’re divorced. I don’t know what church she goes to now.”
Rosanne nodded. “I saw them driving together in the car, her and Henry. She was laughing.”
“She laughs a lot,” Pris told them with a smile. “Ginny can see the funny side of just about anything. Even the Parkers. They’re staying there right now. She made eggs on stuffed French toast and the husband asked her to do his eggs over. They weren’t cooked right.”
“How can you cook an egg wrong?” someone wanted to know. “You put it in the pan, cook it until it’s not runny, and eat it.”
“He wanted his just so, runny but not transparent, and finally he went into the kitchen with her and did it himself,” Priscilla said. “I was in there folding napkins and couldn’t believe anyone would be so ungrateful for the meal served to him that he would criticize it. But she just laughed and said she’d learned something.”
“He’d be making his own breakfast every day if it was me,” Rosanne said. “But I guess for two hundred dollars a night, he can afford to pay for two breakfasts.”
“I can see why his kids are the way they are,” Priscilla confided, and the little circle leaned in to listen. “The older boy flirts all the time and follows me around while I make the beds. He’s supposed to be on vacation, but he has nothing to do so he’s bored silly. I finally asked him if he’d like to help and he went away, only to follow me down to the creek and try to walk with me.”
“Is he good-looking?” the girl on her left said with a laugh.
“He’s so exhausting I’ve stopped paying attention to his looks,” Priscilla said with some asperity. “Lucky thing Henry Byler was there and distracted him long enough for me to get up to the field and home. I don’t want him knowing where I live or he’ll be whining at the door like a lost puppy.”
“Cheer up—it’s not forever,” Rosanne said. “They have to go back to wherever they’re from
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