The Matchmaker by Sarah Price Page B

her hand on his arm. “We insist, don’t we, Daed ?”
    “It’s not that white bread, is it?” Henry called over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Paul. “Wheat bread, that’s the only kind to have. Read it in a book about avoiding that cancer. Wheat works wonders. Any other is not healthy for the body. Wheat, I tell you.”
    With a quick lift of her eyes, Emma hurried past the men and into the kitchen. “ Ja , Daed , it’s wheat bread. I’d think no more of baking you white bread than I’d consider baking you a cake!”
    Henry caught his breath and shook his head. “Cake! Why, that’s just as bad as the white bread. All that sugar is bad for the body.” He turned to Paul. “We need to eat healthier, honor God’s temple in our bodies, and not poison it with sugar and processed food. Those Englische folk . . . why, just look at how they poison themselves and all the diseases they get as a result! You must tell your daed to preach about the benefits of wholesome food and whole-wheat bread made with flaxseed oil, as well! And when Irene visits next week, we must caution her to limit the sweets she gives to her kinner !”
    Glancing over her shoulder, Emma noticed that Paul nodded his head in response to her father’s ranting. She barely suppressed a smile and went about the task of wrapping the freshly made loaf of whole wheat bread in plastic for Paul’s journey home. She took longer than usual, working slowly so that Hannah had no choice but to engage inconversation with Paul. He was quick to admire the progress of their quilting.
    “I can’t believe how much you have accomplished so far!” he exclaimed, a genuine look of admiration on his face. “I do believe you will be ready for binding the edges within the next week!”
    Hannah looked over at Emma, not certain how to respond.
    “Oh, the binding!” Emma returned to the room and handed Paul the wrapped loaf of bread. “We must send that out to be done. I must confess that binding is not one of my strengths.”
    At this comment, Paul shook his head. “I find that hard to believe, Emma. You make so many beautiful quilts. Binding should come quite naturally to someone with your talents!”
    His compliment did not go unnoticed and she was quick to deflect it. “ Nee , it is one of my weaknesses, indeed. I usually send my quilts to the Hostetler sisters in Bird-in-Hand. They truly do the most beautiful work when it comes to binding the edges.”
    “The Hostetler sisters?” He looked first at Emma then at Hannah. “They are well known for their work, I admit. I imagine they would do great justice to this quilt. I would be honored to take the quilt to them when the time comes for it to be bound.” He returned his gaze to Emma. “Consider it my contribution to your generous donation.”
    “That is more generous than necessary, Paul.”
    “I insist!” He looked back at Hannah, a smile on his lips. “Don’t you agree, Hannah? I should be allowed to contribute?”
    And so it was settled that Paul would come back the next weekend to collect the quilt and take it to Bird-in-Hand. Emma watched the exchange between Hannah and Paul with great delight, approving of her friend’s graciousacceptance and Paul’s gentle fending off of her compliments. A new suitor would certainly help ease Hannah’s potential second thoughts at having rejected Ralph’s proposal, she thought.

Chapter Four
    I T WAS S ATURDAY afternoon at the Weaver house. The windows were open and a light breeze stirred the air just enough to keep it comfortable inside, despite the unusually warm September weather. Outside the birds swarmed the bird feeder that hung from the black shepherd’s hook among the front bushes. The noise of their chatter floated into the room, a welcome song of mirth and happiness that kept Emma company. Occasionally a car drove by the house, its engine disturbing the peacefulness of the surroundings. Otherwise it was a lazy, relaxing day, just