“Who’s that?” asked Deedee, nodding to Jane at the register.
“Jane. Her mother, Elsie, owns the place. Sharp as a whistle. Seventy-nine years old and still working every day.”
Deedee widened her eyes and shook her head. “Lord, that’s impressive.”
They took a seat and set paper-wrapped packages of deli-sliced turkey and Swiss on the table.
“When I’m seventy-nine,” said Deedee, “I want to sleep till noon and eat nothing but Krispy Kreme doughnuts in my silk pajamas. I won’t give a fig about my figure or fashion. I’ll be that crazy old lady and love every minute.”
Reba laughed. Despite everything, she adored her sister. She kept things in perspective.
“Every loaf is baked fresh in the mornings,” said Reba. “They have really good pastries, too. We should ask Jane for a dessert recommendation.”
“She looks busy.”
“It’ll slow down.” Reba checked her wristwatch. “This is the lunch crowd.”
“You must come a lot.”
Reba shrugged. “A couple times a week. Jane and Elsie—they’ve become my minifamily.”
“Really?” Deedee raised an eyebrow high. “You’ve never mentioned them, but with the infrequency of your calls and e-mails, I’m not surprised. I know you’re a big girl, but Momma worries.”
“I’ve been super busy. Work, work, work.” Reba waved a hand. “Besides, how much trouble can I get into—I hang out in a German bakery with women two and three times my age. Come on, Deedee!” She laughed too loud.
Deedee gave an unconvinced grin, then turned to the bread bins. “Do they make pumpernickel? I haven’t had good pumpernickel in years. The store-bought kind tastes like cardboard.”
Reba breathed deep. Relief.
They decided on a small loaf of pumpernickel but waited for the line to diminish before stepping up to order.
“Hey you, lady!” said Jane. “Sorry, I haven’t had a minute. Is this Miss Deedee?”
Deedee smiled and extended her hand. “Sure is.”
Jane shook it enthusiastically. “Glad to meet you. Reba’s been talking about your visit for a couple weeks now. I like to see what kind of people my friends come from. Says a lot.” She gestured to the back kitchen. “But I don’t know what my people say about me!” She laughed and her Santa pom-pom bounced up and down. “So what can I get you?”
“We brought meat and cheese to make sandwiches. Thought maybe we could put them on pumpernickel.”
Jane turned to the bread bin and pulled a fat, sable loaf from the shelf. “Always a good choice. Mom made this today. Let me run back and slice it up pretty.”
She left the front. “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” came on.
“Hey, it’s your favorite,” said Deedee. She elbowed Reba and hummed. “… say are you married, hmm-hmm, no man …”
It was Reba’s favorite, but in that moment, it only made her cringe and wonder if Adams family ESP was at work.
Jane returned with the sliced bread. “So you’re from Virginia too, right?”
“Sure am. Just about everybody in our family’s been there forever. Reba’s one of the few to pack up and leave the state.” Deedee tilted her cheek to Reba. “We miss her.”
“I can imagine.” Jane handed Reba the loaf. “Mom left her people in Germany. My oma and opa passed away when I was in diapers, but I think I still got some cousins over there. I understand why Mom moved to the States, but sometimes I wish I’d had a chance to know my kin. I’m sure they missed her.”
“Cry me a lake,” said Elsie from the kitchen door. She clapped her hands together and sent up a flour cloud.
“River, Mom,” corrected Jane.
Elsie paid no mind. “Do not be telling sentimentals about my life. We have enough of those on that foolish Lifetime Channel. You watch this? Nothing but crying and dying and pregnant fifteen-year-old girls.” She huffed and threw up a hand. “And they call that entertainment these days!”
Deedee cleared her throat to quell a giggle.
“In my time, we had Bogart and Hayworth and movies that meant something more than a snotty handkerchief. You must be Reba’s sister, Deedee.”
“You must be Reba’s friend, Elsie,” said Deedee.
“Old friend.” Elsie gestured to the loaf in Reba’s hand. “This is my papa’s recipe. He made it often during the wars. Rye was easier to come by than white flour. You know what pumpernickel means in English?”
“Mom—” Jane started.
“The devil’s fart,” said Elsie.
Deedee laughed, a kind of rolling giggle that grew thicker as it went. Reba felt her own laughter awakened by it.
Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry—the things that come out of her mouth.”
“Do not apologize for me,” said Elsie. “I doubt any family of Reba’s would be so easily offended.”
“Not at all!” Deedee assured. “I understand why Reba likes spending time with you.”
“Correct. It has nothing to do with my baking. She comes for my vulgar company.” Elsie winked at Reba.
“That’s exactly it. You’ve got me figured out,” said Reba. She motioned to the waiting table. “Have you ladies had lunch yet? We brought extra.”
“Thanks, but I grabbed something earlier,” explained Jane. The next customer stepped up. “What can I help you to?”
Elsie came between Deedee and Reba, taking each by the crook of the arm. “There are twenty minutes before my brötchen is done. What kind of cheese you have?”
“Swiss,” replied Deedee.
“Ack, ja!” said Elsie. “I have good Swiss friends. Very gut.”
The trio took a seat and made sandwiches. Reba laid open the bread slices while Deedee doled out the turkey and Elsie the cheese.
“Oops,” said Deedee looking down at the three piles. “No cheese for Reba.” She reached to take the slice away, but Elsie stopped her.
“Nonsense! The girl has finally come to her senses. Besides, you’ve got to have cheese with pumpernickel. It sweetens the bitter bite.”
Deedee cocked her head.
Reba gave staccato nods and flipped the tops on. “Sandwiches are ready!” She passed them out.
“She’s—how you say—a dairy dee-va these days.” Elsie took her sandwich and squished it hard so the meat and cheese held together.
Deedee crossed her arms. “Really?”
“I’m starving!” Reba shoved the sandwich into her mouth.
Elsie nodded. “Powerful stuff—dairy. They say it changes the hormones. I saw on a health science television show.” She took a bite and continued talking. “A medical study found that women with the premenstrual syndrome had less emotional outbursts, depression, mood swings, and general bad temperament after eating more dairy. The doctors. They have documented.” She gulped. “And I believe in science. Reba is a case in point. She began eating dairy and her head cleared so she could finally make a decision about that fiancé.”
Reba closed her eyes tight.
“Um Gottes willen! It was about time.” Elsie crunched her pumpernickel.
“I don’t believe I had to hear about my baby sister’s engagement from a seventy-nine-year-old German lady I met less than ten minutes before! Unbelievable!” Deedee paced Reba’s kitchen.
Reba sat at the table, watching the moon outside climb steadily over the mountain ridge and wishing she were up there with it.
“That’s the guy, isn’t it?” Deedee pointed to the kitchen drawer. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s your fiancé?”
“Ex,” clarified Reba.
“Whatever. You agreed to marry someone and you didn’t bother telling your family—telling me!” She slapped her chest dramatically. “Your sister!”