Falling to Pieces by Vannetta Chapman Read Free Book Online Page A

hear about eBay?”
    Deborah smiled, standing taller. “We are not ignorant of English things, merely because we choose a different way.”
    “But you don’t have electricity; isn’t that correct?”
    “Ya,
but our teenagers go through a time of
rumspringa
—a period where they’re allowed to sample English ways.”
    “And they have computers?”
    Deborah shrugged. “What they have changes with the times. I don’t know exactly what things they sample now. It’s been a few years since my
rumspringa.
I can remember one of the boys from our church kept an old motorcycle in the back of the shop where he worked.” She looked at Callie and smiled mischievously. “Several of us would sneak out at night and ride all over the county.”
    Callie didn’t even try to stop the smile that spread across her face, in part because she was thinking of her own teenage years. “I had no idea.”
    “Most people don’t. It’s not a problem in our community. All is done before we join the church—a time to, how do you say it, try our wings.”
    “And now teens have laptops?” Callie reached down to pat Max as he stood, shook himself, and trotted toward the front window.
    “Possibly. I heard my nieces talking about this eBay. Apparently someone had a way to participate in the auction.”
    “Could have been a laptop computer or even a cell phone with internet capabilities, like a BlackBerry.”
    “How can one get on the internet with berries?”
    “I’ll explain it later. Tell me what you know about eBay.”
    Deborah shrugged. “However they did it, these teens were able to purchase some items—one bought a new horse, and another bought some farming tools. I’ve even heard of a young man in the next district buying a racing buggy on auction. Could that be possible?”
    “Oh, I’m sure it’s possible. I’ve seen almost everything offered on eBay. But why would you want your quilts auctioned that way? It’s summertime. From what you’ve told me about market days, and the amount of shoppers on the streets, it seems Shipshewana has plenty of tourists and buyers.”
    Max whined softly as Deborah’s children came into view. No longer linking arms, this time they were walking in a straight line, each focused on the candy they were eating. Martha stopped them outside the window. She and Mary set the twins down on the bench, then wiped their hands and faces with a handkerchief. Both boys squirmed as if they were being tortured, but they didn’t move from the bench. Callie watched the scene play out and wondered what a childhood here would be like then she turned back to Deborah.
    “You have good kids.”
    “Danki,”
Deborah said softly.
    Something passed between the two then, something Callie wasn’t sure she was ready to share yet, something she might have once called friendship.
    “Do you worry about them walking in the crowds?”
    “No. They didn’t go far, and the other shop owners will watch out for them.”
    Callie nodded and smiled as Jacob tugged on his cap.
    “Why the wool caps in the summertime?”
    “It’s what their
dat
wore, and their
grossdaddi.
It’s our way.”
    Callie thought of all that must include, then glanced down at the quilts.
    “It’s true we have a good amount of tourists during the summer, especially on market days, but more look than buy. Daisy had the quilts up for three weeks and no one had bought any.”
    “That’s not a lot of time.”
    “Yet many people came and went.”
    Callie ran her hand over the medallion quilt again. “Are any quilts sold at the auction house here in town, the one you spoke of?”
    “Ya,
and we could sell ours there.”
    Callie waited.
    “We need to make more money than that. Ours need to stand out, need to be different. You have a good eye, and you were correct when you said—how did you say it? That you noticed expert craftsmanship. Melinda, Esther, and I were always considered the best quilters in our age group. We have sold the occasional quilt