It’s an even day, so that means bratwurst. Even though Mom and Oma know that Opa isn’t eating as much, they still make sure to pack full meals. That means Werner gets lots of food when we swap lunches.

“When Lucky was the cook, did he want to run the restaurant?” I ask Opa as I set the brat bag down. I’m not sure what I want to do when I grow up. Be a writer, maybe? “Was that his dream?”

“Sometimes people don’t know their dreams until they’re in it. Other times, their dreams escape them because they’re too busy being busy. But for Lucky, fate, food, and good fortune presented themselves.” Opa pauses to sniff the air, then continues, “Still, it was hard for Lucky. There were death threats, robberies, immigration officials, picky eaters—but you don’t want to hear about all that, do you?”

“Opa, you know I do!” I hold up the bag from Werner’s. “A story for brats and sauerkraut,” I offer.