A Gift of Grace by Amy Clipston Page A

front so you can see your desk.” Daniel placed his hand on her back, steering her through the shop. “It gets busy, but you can handle it.”
    They maneuvered through the shop to the front of the store, which consisted of large glass windows and samples of furniture. She ran her finger over a mirrored double dresser, silently marveling at the intricate detailed pattern in the wood.
    “This is gorgeous,” she whispered. “My dad would’ve loved this.”
    “Your dat was a carpenter?” he asked.
    She nodded. “Not by trade, but he loved woodworking. He made my sister and me some really nice shelves for our rooms. He also made my mom a beautiful hope chest when they were first married. We saved them in your shed. When I have a house of my own someday, I’ll use them in my room.”
    Daniel rubbed his beard as his expression softened. “I’m sure you must think of your parents often.”
    “All the time.” Clearing her throat in order to suppress the swelling lump, she turned toward the front counter. A small desk covered in books and stacks of paper was located directly behind it. An old style push-button phone sat on the desk with a long, coiled cord. She guessed the long cord served to allow her to lean on the counter if a customer came in while she was on the phone. “I guess this is my station?”
    “ Ya , that’s right.” He patted the counter. “You’ll sit here and answer the phone, take orders, file invoices, balance the ledger, and keep the books.”
    Jessica shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I worked in my dad’s office over the summer and school vacations.”
    “Oh, that’s gut . You’ve had some experience with administrative work.” Daniel nodded toward the chair, gesturing for her to sit.
    He then explained the job to her, pointing out the phone, ledgers, order forms, and receipt books. Jessica knew she was capable of the job, since she’d served as administrative assistant to her father over school breaks, and she enjoyed the work. Dad had also let her dabble in the accounting, so she should be comfortable taking care of the ledger for the furniture store.
    Her thoughts moved to her friends back home in Virginia. Jessica pushed those thoughts away and fingered her phone stuck in her jean pocket. She wondered why her best friend, Morgan, or her boyfriend, Brian, hadn’t called to check on her. She’d given them Trisha’s cellular phone number before she left for Lancaster County. Now that Jessica had a phone, her friends could call her any time. She assumed they would’ve gotten her number from Trisha. However, they hadn’t called once. She wondered if they missed her.
    “Does this job sound gut to you?” he asked, yanking her from her thoughts.
    “Yeah,” Jessica said. “I can handle it.”
    “ Gut .” He nodded. “We open in thirty minutes. I’m going to check in the back, and you call me if you need anything.”
    “I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” Jessica opened the ledger and thumbed through it. The accounting system was basic and easy to understand. Grabbing a calculator, she ran through the last receipts, making sure they reconciled.
    “Another Englisher,” a voice behind her said. “I’m still out-numbered but at least I’m not alone anymore.”
    Glancing over her shoulder, Jessica spotted a young man clad in a gray T-shirt, jeans, and work boots. His dark brown hair was cut short, accentuating his bright, Caribbean blue eyes.
    “Jake Miller.” He extended his hand.
    She stared into his eyes and swallowed a gasp. She shook his warm hand, and her cheeks heated while her mind drew a blank. What was her name?
    “You must be Jessica Bedford,” Jake said.
    “Right!” she said, a little too loudly. What a dunce. How could she forget her own name?
    Glancing down, Jessica spotted her hand still clasping his. She yanked her hand back, and her cheeks felt like they were going to spontaneously combust.
    “So, you’re from Virginia?” Jake leaned on the