The Wedding Caper by Janice Thompson

tucked it into her blouse. She followed us
all the way out to our car, looking up at the skies before we parted ways.
“Spritzing should begin any time now.”
    Spritzing?
    “Best to
take your umbrellas,” she admonished.
    Ah.
    I had to
poke Sheila in the ribs with my elbow to keep her from laughing aloud. We had
too much to do to stand around gabbing about colloquialisms, cute as they might
be. There were small towns to visit, shops to be explored, and more delicious
foods to be eaten.
    As we
attempted to climb into the car, Mrs. L. went on to sing the praises of several
of her favorite stores and restaurants—all within driving distance. “See
as many as you can,” she encouraged.
    We nodded
our thanks and headed out on our way, at once grateful for a bit of silence. I
half-expected Sheila to comment on the infamous Mrs. L., but she seemed to be
lost in her thoughts this morning.
    We drove
along the winding country roads, pausing at every little town and store that drew
our attention, some recommended by Mrs. L., others incidental. Within an hour
or so of beginning our shopping, quilt envy had taken root in both of us. I
wanted every single one. Above all, their detailed beauty amazed me.
    Who in
the world has the time to sit and sew like that? I could hardly sit still at
the computer long enough to edit a client’s manuscript. How did women sit for
hours on end, visiting with one another, hand -stitching
one row upon another?
    I snuck a
glance at my best friend, her eyes glazed over in pure joy. Truly, she looked
as though she’d died and gone to heaven. Perhaps, if we truly had the time to
spend with one another, if we lived simpler, quieter lives, we would sit in
silence and work on craft projects.
    At this
point, Sheila erupted in a warbling rendition of “Do a Deer,” punctuating the
“Sew, a needle pulling thread” part.
    Hmm. Then
again . . .
    We
shifted our attentions to the Amish furniture, taking note of everything from
sturdy quilt racks to handcrafted hickory rockers to bent oak dining tables. I
couldn’t imagine owning such lovely things, though my heart connected with the
beauty of it all.
    While I
couldn’t justify the expense of a larger purchase, I did manage to find several
other Amish delights to tickle my fancy. I bought a variety of things: several
hand-dipped beeswax candles for Brandi and Scott’s wedding ceremony, a lovely
hand-painted box to give to Nadine as a gift, and the prettiest pewter plate
I’d ever seen. The latter I expected to keep for myself.
    Sheila couldn’t
seem to get enough of the pottery, hooked rugs, and hand-made dolls. She
purchased so many items I finally had to put a moratorium on the shopping. All
along the way, she kept me entertained with funny stories and witty sayings, as
always.
    At some point
in our journey, I stumbled across an outdated flier on the back wall of one of
the shops, advertising the now-past All Things Dutch
conference. Ah. That’s what Mrs. L. was talking about. My mind reeled as
another memory set in. Janetta Mullins. That’s the
conference she catered. No wonder it sounded so familiar.
    My
thoughts ran away with me until Sheila brought me back to reality—her
version of it, anyway.
    “Where
can a girl get some food ‘round these here parts?”
    I
chuckled and shifted our thoughts at once to food. We chose a nearby Amish-run
restaurant. Once settled, we enjoyed the most lavish buffet I’d ever had the
privilege of lingering over. Some of the foods were familiar, like the beef and
noodle Amish stew. Others I’d never heard of. Scrapple and sauerkraut surprise
custard pie, for example. And Amish ham salad, also made with sauerkraut.
    Interesting.
Sheila, ever the adventurer, tried a small helping of everything. Yep, everything. I erred on the more cautious side.
Ironically, most everything I sampled proved to be quite tasty.
    After
lunch, we drove the back roads for a while, drinking in the beauty of the place
and admiring some of