set on wanting to make some money of your own, I thought you might like to take some flowers from the garden or maybe a few of these houseplants to sell,” she said, motioning to the violets.
“Sell off Grandma’s plants?” Rebekah’s eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. “No, Mom, I could never do that. It wouldn’t be right. No, not right at all.”
“Why not?”
“Because the African violets were so special to her.” Rebekah’s smile never quite reached her eyes. “They help keep her memory alive, too.”
“Grandma’s memory will always be alive in our hearts,” Sarah said. “We have many other things to remind us of her besides the plants, and I don’t think Grandma would mind if you sold a few violets so you could have some money of your own.”
“I do want to start making money, but selling off Grandma’s plants? Sorry, but I just couldn’t do that and feel good about it.”
“Why not take cut flowers from the garden then? I’m sure those would sell, too.”
“That would be all right, I suppose.” Rebekah stared out the window with a wistful expression. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and smiled. “I know! I could take some starts from Grandma’s plants. All I need to do is put them in some pots full of good soil, and they’ll soon become new plants of their own. It might even be good for the bigger plants to be thinned a bit. At least that’s what Grandma used to say whenever I asked her why she was pinching some of the leaves off the violets and repotting them in smaller pots.”
“I think that’s a fine idea. If you want, I’ll help you get the cuttings done today.”
“Danki for offering, but if I’m to make the money from the plants, then I want to do all the work myself.” She blinked a couple of times. “Besides, this is something I can do without any help at all.”
“Okay.” Sarah clasped Rebekah’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She turned to leave, but before she got to the door, Rebekah called out to her.
“Mom, there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that, Rebekah?”
“I think I’m ready to start writing some things in my
Budget
column again.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Maybe you can write up something about our trip to the farmers’ market.”
“Jah, maybe so.”
“All right then. Tomorrow you can share our sales table at the market, and we’ll see how everything goes.” Sarah went out the door, feeling a little more hopeful about Rebekah. She knew full well how important it was for her daughter to feel independent, and she would do nothing to stand in the way of Rebekah doing something on her own.
CHAPTER 5
The farmers’ market seemed unusually busy, and the proof was in the parking lot, nearly full of cars. “It must be all the summer tourists,” Dad said to Mom as they began unloading their things from the back of Vera Miller’s van.
She smiled. “Jah, business should be good today.”
Rebekah sat in her wheelchair beside the van, holding a box of African violet cuttings in her lap. “I hope so,” she put in. “All the pruning and potting I did yesterday had better pay off.”
Nadine, who stood behind Rebekah, leaned over her shoulder. “Want me to push you inside the building?”
Rebekah nodded. She hated to ask for assistance, but if she let go of the box in order to manipulate her wheelchair, she would probably end up losing the whole thing.
A few minutes later, they headed for the market building, each carrying a box of their own.
Once Rebekah’s father and brother got tables set up, they started making sales. Mom had some vine-ripened, juicy red tomatoes and baskets of plump, sweet raspberries from her garden; Dad had brought some of his delicious, quick-to-make root beer; Simon sold cartons of bulky brown eggs; Nadine had several batches of chocolate cupcakes and ginger cookies for sale; and Rebekah had her freshly cut flowers and starts from several of Grandma’s plants.
By noon, nearly all of
“Sell off Grandma’s plants?” Rebekah’s eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. “No, Mom, I could never do that. It wouldn’t be right. No, not right at all.”
“Why not?”
“Because the African violets were so special to her.” Rebekah’s smile never quite reached her eyes. “They help keep her memory alive, too.”
“Grandma’s memory will always be alive in our hearts,” Sarah said. “We have many other things to remind us of her besides the plants, and I don’t think Grandma would mind if you sold a few violets so you could have some money of your own.”
“I do want to start making money, but selling off Grandma’s plants? Sorry, but I just couldn’t do that and feel good about it.”
“Why not take cut flowers from the garden then? I’m sure those would sell, too.”
“That would be all right, I suppose.” Rebekah stared out the window with a wistful expression. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and smiled. “I know! I could take some starts from Grandma’s plants. All I need to do is put them in some pots full of good soil, and they’ll soon become new plants of their own. It might even be good for the bigger plants to be thinned a bit. At least that’s what Grandma used to say whenever I asked her why she was pinching some of the leaves off the violets and repotting them in smaller pots.”
“I think that’s a fine idea. If you want, I’ll help you get the cuttings done today.”
“Danki for offering, but if I’m to make the money from the plants, then I want to do all the work myself.” She blinked a couple of times. “Besides, this is something I can do without any help at all.”
“Okay.” Sarah clasped Rebekah’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She turned to leave, but before she got to the door, Rebekah called out to her.
“Mom, there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that, Rebekah?”
“I think I’m ready to start writing some things in my
Budget
column again.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Maybe you can write up something about our trip to the farmers’ market.”
“Jah, maybe so.”
“All right then. Tomorrow you can share our sales table at the market, and we’ll see how everything goes.” Sarah went out the door, feeling a little more hopeful about Rebekah. She knew full well how important it was for her daughter to feel independent, and she would do nothing to stand in the way of Rebekah doing something on her own.
CHAPTER 5
The farmers’ market seemed unusually busy, and the proof was in the parking lot, nearly full of cars. “It must be all the summer tourists,” Dad said to Mom as they began unloading their things from the back of Vera Miller’s van.
She smiled. “Jah, business should be good today.”
Rebekah sat in her wheelchair beside the van, holding a box of African violet cuttings in her lap. “I hope so,” she put in. “All the pruning and potting I did yesterday had better pay off.”
Nadine, who stood behind Rebekah, leaned over her shoulder. “Want me to push you inside the building?”
Rebekah nodded. She hated to ask for assistance, but if she let go of the box in order to manipulate her wheelchair, she would probably end up losing the whole thing.
A few minutes later, they headed for the market building, each carrying a box of their own.
Once Rebekah’s father and brother got tables set up, they started making sales. Mom had some vine-ripened, juicy red tomatoes and baskets of plump, sweet raspberries from her garden; Dad had brought some of his delicious, quick-to-make root beer; Simon sold cartons of bulky brown eggs; Nadine had several batches of chocolate cupcakes and ginger cookies for sale; and Rebekah had her freshly cut flowers and starts from several of Grandma’s plants.
By noon, nearly all of
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