Later that afternoon, I watched Chicago's skyline disappear in my rearview mirror as I headed down to Corner Grove. The drive down provided an interesting contrast in landscapes as the city quickly gave way to miles of lush, green farmland stretching out in front of me. I noticed the air becoming cooler the farther south I drove. Halfway to my destination, I rolled down my windows and breathed deeply, filling my lungs with clean, fresh air.
I thought about what Bugsy had said, and grudgingly admitted to myself that he might have had a point. I didn't have a good track record with women, and there had been a long line of women I'd thought I could love, but the reality was that I had never trusted any of them.
I sighed as I ran a hand through my hair and stepped harder on the gas pedal, and quickly drove the thoughts from my brain. Now was not the time to be doing self-analysis about my romantic failings; I had a job to do. I chuckled as I thought about the fact that I was headed into a community largely made up of Amish people. Women were not going to be a problem there.
I arrived in town just as the light was fading. I flipped on my lights as I drove through the small town to get familiar with its layout. Corner Grove was one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it towns where the stores and restaurants were centralized in a few blocks along Main Street. I quickly found the place I would be staying at the end of the strip.
"Oh, hell no," I muttered as I double-checked the address on the paperwork Bugsy had given me with the address on the front door.
I sat outside the large, white house with the meticulous garden in front and a sign hanging from the front porch that read, "Yoder's Lodgings. Doing the Lord's work since 1987." Bugsy had conveniently picked the most traditionally Amish bed and breakfast in town. I cursed him under my breath as I looked up and down along the street to see if there was a Best Western or a Holiday Inn somewhere around. When I realized that I was out of luck, I climbed the stairs and went to check in.
The desk clerk looked up from her knitting, pulled a pair of half glasses off the bridge of her nose, and let them hang around her neck on a black lanyard as she smiled warmly at me.
"Welcome! Welcome! Are you looking for lodgings?" she cheerfully inquired as she stood up and walked around the desk. She was a plump woman in a purple dress, wearing a starched white cap pulled tightly over her white hair. "If so, we've got a room for you!"
"Yes, I do need a room," I nodded. "For a couple of days."
"We can most certainly do that! I'm Mrs. Elsa Yoder," she said in a cheerful voice that put the emphasis on the Mrs. and had the hint of an accent I couldn't quite place, but knew was related to German or Dutch. "Welcome to Corner Grove."
"Hello, Mrs. Yoder," I said holding out my hand, which she ignored. "I'm Adam Wallace."
"Did you have a long drive, dear?" she asked as she looked around for my suitcase. "You don't seem to have any things, do you?"
"No, not long. It was a short drive from Chicago. My bags are out in the car," I said waving toward the street. "I'll go out and get them."
"If you like, I'll have my son, Gabe, go bring them in for you," she said with a wide smile as she gestured to me. I shook my head to discourage her from calling Gabe to get my bags, so she shrugged as she continued, "Come and let me get you registered, and then show you around our establishment, Mr. Wallace."
I filled out the paperwork, showed my identifi
cation, and then paid for two nights before following Mrs. Yoder into the sitting room where she informed me that tea would be served at eleven in the morning and four in the afternoon, if I was so inclined. She moved on to the dining room where she said that breakfast and dinner would be served each day.
"Breakfast is at seven sharp and supper at six," she said cheerfully tapping the large oak table. "We're very prompt, Mr. Wallace. And if you want to eat, you'd be wise to follow suit!"
I nodded as she moved out of the dining room and began to climb up the wide staircase that led the second floor. I marveled at the polished wood stairs and gleaming banister. Someone had taken a great deal of care of the interior of this house, and it showed.
On the wall to my left hung an assortment of large quilts with designs that looked plain, but were probably much more complex than my untrained eye could discern. Mrs. Yoder gave a brief history of each one as she quickly climbed the stairs and as we reached the top step, she turned and said, "Have you ever slept beneath a homemade quilt, Mr. Wallace?"
"I can't say that I have, ma'am," I said shaking my head.
"Well, tonight we'll change that," she said nodding her head as she walked down the long hallway and stopped in front of a door at the end. She pushed the door open and walked into a room that looked like it had been pulled from another era.
The walls were painted mint green and the wood floors were a dark brown. There was a double bed, a nightstand, and a dresser all made of the same, dark wood on the floor. It felt like I was in a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I looked around for the closet, but the room didn't seem to have one.
"We hang our clothes on pegs," Mrs. Yoder said obviously having heard this question before. She pointed to a spot in the corner where there were two sets of pegboards hung high enough that even the longest clothing wouldn't touch the floor. I nodded as she continued, "The bathroom is the second door on the right. You'd normally share it with the other guests, but we're not expecting anyone else until next week so you'll have it all to yourself!"
"Great," I said, scanning the room for electrical outlets.
"If you need to plug in your electronics," she said cheerfully. "You can bring them down to the front desk and use the power strip there. The house is wired, but we didn't put in outlets in the individual rooms because it didn't seem necessary at the time. I guess we were wrong!"
I was silently cursing Bugsy as I realized that no electrical outlets meant there probably wasn't a Wi-Fi connection in the house either, but before I could ask, Mrs. Yoder spoke up.
"We do have Wi-Fi, though!" she chirped. "The password is AbidebyGodswill.”
"Good to know," I said flashing her a faint smile to show my appreciation. "It seems I missed supper tonight? Is there somewhere around here I can get something to eat?"
"Oh, of course, Mr. Wallace!" she said excitedly. "Lottie's Diner is just a block down the street and she serves breakfast, lunch and dinner. But she closes down at seven to get home and do her chores."
"So I'm out of luck tonight?" I asked feeling annoyed by the small town approach to business. In Chicago, if I wanted a sandwich or an omelet or a five-course meal, I could get it whenever I wanted. In fact, I could pull up an app that would let me order from just about any restaurant in the city and have my meal delivered within thirty minutes. I doubted there was a company down here that could do that.