The Baker's Daughter (26 page)

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!”

Reba picked at the dark rind beneath her thumbnail—pumpernickel.

Deedee inhaled. “Are you pregnant?”

Reba snapped her head up. “God no. Deedee, this isn't
Jerry Springer.
”

“Well, I'm trying to rationalize why you'd do a thing like this.” She put
a hand on each temple, pushing the pressure points and pulling her eyes into slits.

“I knew you wouldn't understand,” grumbled Reba. “That's why I don't tell you things.”

Deedee took a seat beside her, leaning her cheek onto her fist. “What is there to understand? All you have to say is that you fell in love and I'll get it. But you haven't said a word!” She looked hopefully at Reba. “Do you love this guy?”

Reba cupped her hands over her nose. They smelled like Swiss cheese. She didn't know how to answer. It was complicated. She loved Riki, but maybe not enough. It was like cheesecake. She thought she loved it, but maybe that was only because she'd sworn it off. Now that she could have it openly, shouldn't she want to taste all she'd been missing: cheddar rolls and créme-filled pastries, hamburgers and beef satay, buttermilk pancakes with corn beef hash, and whipped cream on everything? The world was at her palate. So how could she go back to nibbling old cheesecake, even if she craved it, even if it was her favorite thing in the world? And how could she make Deedee understand?

She moved her fingers to cover her face and whispered through tented palms, “He's cheesecake.”

“Huh—what? Cheesecake?” Deedee huffed. “And that's another thing. I thought you didn't eat that stuff. You made me adopt a cow, for God's sake!”

Reba groaned. She couldn't take it all at once. She buried her head in folded arms like she used to do during first-grade rest time.

“Talk to me, Reba.” Deedee put a familiar hand on her back.

It was quiet inside the shelter of Reba's arms. Her steady breathing, the only sound. “I eat dairy now.” She had to start somewhere.

“All right. Momma will be happy. It broke her heart that you wouldn't eat her cheese fritters. You know she's got a handful of recipes she considers prize-worthy, and all of them include cream, cheese, or a hunk of beef.” Deedee's voice softened. “So how did you meet Riki?”

Reba raised her chin to her forearm. “I did a story on immigration in the borderland. I interviewed him at the station where he works. He was so different from the guys back home. He wore cowboy boots and a Stetson and not because it was in the latest J. Crew catalogue. There was real mud and horseshit on them.”

Deedee laughed and so did Reba.

“And he treated me like I was … 
refined
coming from the East Coast
and having traveled places. He couldn't believe we could drive two hours and be at the water whenever we wanted. He was fascinated by my photos of Sandbridge Beach, and hardly anybody's impressed by the geriatric prominence of Sandbridge! But he's been here all his life. Landlocked in the desert. He's never seen the ocean. Can you imagine?”

Deedee shook her head.

“And most of all, he seemed to love me so much. I've never been loved like that. So hard, you know?”

“I don't. I won't even go into how many nightmare men I've dated. In case you didn't know, there are a lot of screwballs out there looking for a pretty face and a frolic.” Deedee seemed to sigh out all the angry air. “To tell the truth, I'm jealous.”

Reba sat up. “Don't be jealous! It's downright terrifying.”

“Too bad. I'm already green-eyed. I saw the photo. The guy's hot.” Deedee smirked. “So I can't wrap my brain around why you didn't mention he asked to marry you. Were you embarrassed?”

“No, not embarrassed.” Reba stared hard at the full moon now high above the craggy mountaintop. “Unsure. I didn't want to tell anyone until I felt it back. Felt that kind of
big
love.”

Reba pulled the necklace from its hiding place under her shirt and dangled the ring.

“It's beautiful,” said Deedee.

“I never wore it.”

“Why the hell not? If I had a diamond like that, I'd bling-bling it around town.”

“It never felt right,” explained Reba.

Deedee nodded. “Is that why you called it off?”

“I guess. We never technically called it off. We had a fight and he moved out. I haven't heard from him in over a month.” Something in her throat caught. Her eyes stung.

“That makes it easier, right?” said Deedee.

Reba turned away to hide the welling tears. She couldn't stop them.

“Ever try calling him?”

Reba shrugged. How many times had she dialed all but the last digit? She prayed he'd call her, but he didn't so she didn't, and the days turned into silent weeks. She missed him, much more than she'd ever anticipated.

Deedee took Reba's hand and traced the bones fanning from her wrist to her fingertips. “You remember what Momma used to tell us when we
were little. If you truly love somebody, you follow them to the ends of the earth; you give up everything you have, even your life—now that doesn't mean you slit your wrists for some jack-about-town just because he makes your heart flutter.” She paused.

Reba knew they were both thinking the same thing: that was exactly what their momma had done. Not in the literal sense, of course, but their entire lives, they'd watched her bleed herself, die a little each day, to keep up the family reputation on the outside and the pretense of normalcy within. Momma tried to hide the unsavory truths from everybody, even herself, but
they
knew. They always knew.

“What I mean is, when it comes to the person you marry, you've got to know what you're getting into.”

Here it was: that old splinter come to the surface. Reba was tired of its sting. She wanted it out, for better or worse.