Keys of Heaven by Adina Senft Read Free Book Online

last of her supper with a piece of Corinne’s homemade bread, the conversation had moved on to the likelihood of a thunderstorm and some rain to give the knee-high corn a boost.
    When Sarah glanced at her mother-in-law to see if she wanted to begin clearing, there was a look on Corinne’s face that she had never seen before. She was gazing at Silas Lapp as though that new idea had occurred to her in the last minute or so.
    Sarah did not want to know anything about it.
    She stood and began to clear the dishes herself.

Chapter 5
    I n its niche next to the barn door, the telephone rang. Not for the first time, Henry was glad he spent most of his day in the barn, where he wouldn’t miss the calls that came more often now. Eventually he’d get around to letting the phone company know he wanted a jack in the house, but until then, it was working out not too badly, having the only phone on the place this close to where he worked.
    “Henry, this is Dave Petersen at D.W. Frith. Is now a good time for a conversation?”
    He wiped the grit off one hand on his jeans and switched the phone to the other ear. Petersen was the vice president of procurement, which sounded like too grand a title for a guy who spent his days scouting for things that people might like to buy. It must be important if he was calling at the tail end of the week instead of getting on the train to commute back to his home in Connecticut.
    “Hi, Dave. Sure. I was just putting some green ware out to dry. That makes six batter bowls so far, out of the twenty-five you ordered for the initial launch.”
    “Glad to hear it. Say, I just got out of a meeting and the marketing guys had some questions.”
    Platters and batter bowls were pretty straightforward in Henry’s mind, but considering what they’d offered him for this commission, whatever the East Coast luxury housewares chain wanted, he’d provide. He made himself comfortable, leaning on the barn door. “Go ahead.”
    “Well, it’s this whole Amish thing. The catalog girl figures she can get you a two-page spread in the fall book that goes to a million DM subscribers, and that automatically means a slide on the home page of our site.”
    “That’s great news.” More than he’d ever expected, in fact. “What’s DM?” Definitely money?
    “Direct mail. Glad to hear you’re pleased. They just need a short paragraph about you—not a bio exactly, but more like a two-liner on who you are. So I was working on it and thought I’d run it by you.”
    “Better you than me. Marketing gives me hives. Shoot.”
    “How’s this: ‘Amish potter Henry Byler creates his pieces in the barn that his ancestors built a hundred years ago, finding his inspiration in the flowers and fields his family has cultivated for generations.’ Huh? Sound good?”
    Henry hesitated. “It sounds like marketing copy, all right. I like the flowers and fields part.” For some reason, that reminded him of Sarah Yoder.
    “Great! That was easy. So we’ll run with it.”
    How to put this in a way that a guy from New York City could understand? For once, Henry was glad to have had the experience with the reviewers in Denver, which had taught him all too well the power of the written word.
    “Are you going for accuracy or for atmosphere?” he asked, hoping Petersen wasn’t about to hang up.
    “Both,” Dave said promptly. “Did I get something wrong? Is it the farm? You told me when I was there that it had been in the family since the turn of the last century.”
    “Well, it has—the extended family. My own family is out in Ohio.”
    “Oh, well, family’s family. That all?”
    “No. About the Amish part, Dave…”
    “What about it? It’s an Amish farm, right? You grew up Amish?”
    “Well, yes, but—”
    “Then we’re good to go.”
    “But I’m not Amish now. You can’t say ‘Amish potter Henry Byler’ when I’m not. Not since I was nineteen.”
    A heavy sigh came down the line. “You’re splitting hairs