Billionaires Runaway Bride

Ten minutes later, I pulled up to Miller's Authentic Amish Furniture factory feeling more annoyed than when I'd left the breakfast table. Mrs. Yoder had gotten under my skin. She'd tried to be helpful, but her interference in my business had done nothing but irritate me.

The front parking spaces were still empty so I eased the Mustang into the one closest to the door and sat surveying the building. It covered the equivalent of two city blocks and resembled an enormous, gray barn with a wide, sloping roof and a bay on the far end that could open wide enough to accommodate an eighteen-wheeler.

On the opposite end, I could see the show room through the floor to ceiling plate glass windows and movement inside. I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and headed inside.

"Are you here to pick up an order?" the man behind the front desk asked as he looked up from something positioned just below the chest-high counter. He had a solemn, clean-shaven face and bushy eyebrows that he raised questioningly as he waited for my response.

"No, I'm here to see Mr. Miller," I said as I scanned the counter looking for any indication of the man's first name. "The owner?"

"Ah, I see," the man nodded. "Did you have an appointment with him this morning?"

"No, I heard he operates on a first come first serve basis, so I took my chances," I said smiling nervously as I tried to create a commonality between the man and I. "My father operates the same way, so I thought I'd try my luck with Mr. Miller."

"I see," he nodded without smiling back. "I'll go back and check his office to see if he's in yet."

"You don't know if he's come through the front door?" I asked looking back at the empty parking lot.

"We park our buggies out back," the man said as he stood up to his full height and dwarfed me in the process. "I'll be right back, Mr..."

"Wallace," I said quickly reaching for my business card, but the man turned and walked away before I could add, “I'm Adam Wallace."

When it became obvious that the man wasn't quickly coming back, I walked around the showroom and read the descriptions of the various types of furniture. There were rough-hewn pieces that looked like they belonged in log cabins in the wilderness mixed in with items that were so smoothly finished that it was nearly impossible to tell how all the pieces had been connected. At the bottom of each card attached to the furniture was the phrase, "Ask about our custom made pieces," and it made me wonder who the hell would come all the way to Corner Grove and order custom-made Amish furniture.

"Mr. Wallace?" the young man said as he returned from the back of the store. "Mr. Miller will meet with you in the conference room now."

"Oh, so he's in, is he?" I said wondering what had taken them so long to discuss.

"Yes, he's been in since before sunup," the man replied as he led me to the conference room. "He was working in the shop."

"I see," I nodded as he gestured to the open door. I walked in and found myself standing in front of a large, oak table surrounded by twelve, sturdy chairs. The room was made up of white walls, but resembled more of a farmhouse kitchen than a corporate conference room. There was a scuffed chalkboard hanging on the far wall that looked like it had been recently cleaned. Underneath it was a long oak sideboard in the same style as the table that held a pitcher of water and some simple drinking glasses. I wasn't sure if I should take a seat or remain standing, so I stood waiting for Miller to make his entrance thinking about how different this room was from the one in my father's office.

My father had all the latest technology installed so that his minions could present their ideas in Technicolor on large video screens using laser pointers and tablets. Everything in his world was shiny and new, and when it no longer suited his purposes, he promptly disposed of it. Bishop Miller's conference room gave

me hope that my message might have a chance.

"Mr. Wallace, you wished to see me?" Bishop Miller said as he walked toward me with his hand outstretched. I took it and shook firmly as I nodded. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his traditional, Amish beard reached the middle of his chest. He wore the somber, black pants, white shirt, and suspenders that I'd seen the men around Corner Grove wearing, but he had removed the wide-brimmed, black hat and the dark jacket that I'd already grown accustomed to seeing. He motioned to a chair, "Please have a seat."

I pulled out a heavy oak chair and sat down as the Bishop slowly walked around the table, never once taking his eyes off me. There was something unnerving about his silence, but I shook it off and prepared myself to pitch the proposal.

"Mr. Wallace, what is it that you want?" Bishop Miller asked once he'd sat down across the table from me.

"I want to give you a chance to invest in a dynamic new technology that will offer you freedom from the generators and wood-burning energy that you've been accustomed to," I began.

"No Mr. Wallace," he interrupted. "Don't try to sell me anything. Just tell me why you came to Corner Grove and what you want from our community."

"I don't understand," I said as I looked down at the turbine specs in front of me and then back up at Miller.

"I don't have a lot of time, nor do I care to pick through the carefully constructed sales pitch you're about to give me," he said as he held my gaze. His bushy eyebrows twitched slightly as he stopped speaking and stared at me. "Tell me what you can do for me and why I should entertain the idea of doing whatever it is you want me to do."

"Look, I know that you don't hook up to the electrical supply because you don't want to be part of the system or dependent on the English," I said, hoping that what I was about to do would be what he wanted. "At Agape Resources, we've got a wind turbine that will ensure that you don't have to be on the grid. It's cost efficient and will supply enough power to your community to keep you independently operating all year round."

"I see," he said. I waited for him to follow up with more questions, and when none came, I continued speaking.

"We can set up the turbines in the fields where you grow crops," I said leaning forward on my elbows as I spoke. "Each set of turbines will generate enough energy to run the ten households closest to them, and it is possible that we could install enough turbines to run the entire city of Corner Grove—businesses included."

"I see," the Bishop replied, but said nothing more.

"The initial cost is steep, but this would be offset by the savings you will reap on the elimination of the need to buy gasoline for generators and wood for furnaces,” I said as I tried to gauge Miller's response. So far, he'd given me nothing to work with. "Turbines can also help pump water and operate machinery that grinds grain, so for your farm endeavors, this would be extremely useful."