MAC SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY. “SLOAN, YOU are the most maddening woman I’ve ever known.”
“I can live with that.” I set my beer on the table. “Should we talk about Alex?”
“What about Alex?” He leaned against the hop fence.
“Mac, don’t do this. Let’s try and talk like adults.”
“Do what?’ He yanked a wilted hop from the vine and crushed it in his hand.
“I know you already talked to Alex about moving in with you.”
His fist squeezed the hop tighter. “I don’t know what you mean.”
This was not going to be easy. I had hoped that Mac would be mature for once, but I should have known it would go like this. “Alex told me that you asked him to go look at a couple of places.”
“So?”
“So, what are you planning?”
“I’m planning to get out of that stupid hotel room. Do you know what it’s like being cooped up in a hell hole for weeks on end?”
His spacious hotel suite was hardly a “hell hole.”
“April is going to show me a condo that overlooks the Wenatchee River near Blackbird Island and a penthouse apartment in a new development over by the high school. I asked Alex to come to help me decide and so that he can pick out his room.”
“That’s it right there.” I stopped him. “His room. We haven’t even begun to discuss arrangements for where he’s going to live once the divorce is final, and you’re already dragging him into this.”
“Why do you always think the worst of me, Sloan?” Mac sounded genuinely injured. “You’re jumping to conclusions without even giving me a chance to explain.”
I was quiet.
“I’m not going to fight you for custody, Sloan. Alex loves you more than anything in this world. I assumed that he would live with you but come stay with me a night or two a week and every other weekend, like we’ve been doing since you kicked me out.”
Technically he had left by choice when I asked him to, but I didn’t bring that up.
“I want him to come with me, so he can feel like he’s a part of the decision. I know it’s going to suck for him to go back and forth between our places. I think it already does for him. He asked me the other day about whether he could have a couple of drawers in the dresser, so he could leave some stuff at the hotel. I know that I screwed up with you and with Alex, and I’m just trying to do the best I can to make it up to him.”
Mac kicked a leaf on the rustic tiled patio floor. “Sloan, give me a little more credit, okay?”
“Okay.” I felt bad. Mac and I had struggled for years, but he was a good dad. I couldn’t take that away from him. He had been involved and active in Alex’s life since the day he was born. It wasn’t just for show. Mac and Alex were exceptionally close. They used to spend hours building elaborate LEGO cities on the living room floor, camping out in the backyard, and going for long weekend rafting trips on the Wenatchee River. Mac was a hands-on dad. He adored Alex as much as I did. Alex had been our one point of connection as things became cool between us over the last few years.
“Sloan, you can’t really think I’m going to try and pull Alex into a battle with us, can you?”
“No. I guess not. I hadn’t expected Alex to say anything about you moving into a permanent place. It took me by surprise.”
“Temporary.”
“What?”
“I never said the place I’m getting is going to be permanent. I’ve talked to my folks, and I know it might take you some time to really forgive me, but I’m not giving up on us.”
“Mac, you should.” I took another sip of beer. Nearby I saw one of the lifts raise a worker fifty feet in the air so that he could reach the top of the tree. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions and thinking the worst, but I don’t want to give you false hope. I’m proceeding with the divorce.”
He tossed the crushed hop on the ground. “That’s fine, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t keep trying to win you back.”
There was no point in responding. We were destined to continue to circle in a never-ending loop. I was glad that he was moving on—at least to the point of finding an apartment—and I was relieved to hear that he wasn’t intending to go to war over custody of Alex. That was enough for the moment.
“Hey, is your mom around?” I asked.
He nodded across the street. “She was over in the bottling plant earlier. Why?”
“I have a wallpaper question for her.”
“I’m sure she’d love to see you, if she’s still around.” Mac paused. He looked like he was going to say more, but he shook his head and stood up. “Come on, I’ll walk over with you.” He extended his hand to help me off the bench.
I took it. It was hard to remember that there had once been a time when his touch had sent shivers up my spine. Now it felt like holding the hand of an old friend. As soon as I was on my feet, I dropped his hand.
Der Keller’s brewing operation was the biggest industry in the village. We exited the patio and crossed Front Street to the bottling plant, where dozens of workers bottled, packaged, and shipped Der Keller’s award-winning German beers. Otto stood near the conveyor belt. He wore a pair of safety goggles over his reading glasses and peered at a sheet of labels.
“Ah, Mac and Sloan! I didn’t see you come in,” he said when he noticed us. He handed Mac the sheet of labels and kissed my cheek. “Look at ziz. It does not seem centered, does it?”
Mac studied the labels briefly. Then he held the sheet up to the light and tilted it about twenty degrees. “No, these are totally off.”
“Ja. Ziz is what I tink.” Otto scratched his head. “I do not know how dis happened. We have been using the same printer for years.” He motioned to a crew member to shut off the system. Once the conveyor belt had stopped, he picked up a bottle and showed it to us. The crooked label was immediately evident.
“We’re going to have to sell these at a discounted rate in dock sales,” Mac said to his father. “Good thing you caught it now.”
“Ja. We will have to see how many bottles are in ziz batch.”
Dock sales were a way for larger breweries like Der Keller to offload extra products or flops, like a beer with a wonky label. Twice a week, Der Keller opened its loading dock to the public where they could purchase cases of beer at a discounted rate.
“Did you need something, Sloan?” Otto asked, after explaining to the waiting staff that they would need to check every bottle that had gone down the line in the past hour.
“Is Ursula here?” I asked.
Otto took off his safety glasses. “Ja, she is maybe in with delivery?”
“I’ll check.” I left him and Mac trying to figure out if any of the mislabeled bottles could be salvaged and went to see if Ursula was in the back. In addition to bottling, Der Keller had a fleet of delivery vans that distributed their beer throughout the Pacific Northwest. I found her double checking the drivers’ delivery schedules. Ursula walked with the support of a cane due to her recent surgery, but aside from that, there was nothing slight or meek about her stature. She commanded a serene, yet forceful presence.
“Sloan!” Her face lit up when she saw me. She shuffled toward me.
“Ursula, how are you?” I greeted her with a long hug.
“I am vonderful. Ziz cane, it is making me angry, but otherwise I am good. How are you, my dear?”
“Good.” It was a half-truth. “I was hoping that you might be able to give me some suggestions on taking down wallpaper.”
Ursula made a gagging face. “Oh, ziz is the vorst project. Do you remember when we took down the old wallpaper here?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you use some kind of a steam machine?”
“Ja. It was no fun, but ze steamer, it was better.”
“Where did you get one?”
“I still have it. It is in ze closet at home. Would you like to borrow it?”
“You still have it? Yes, I’d love to borrow it.”
“I hope zat it still works. It has been many, many years of sitting in ze closet, but you are velcome to use it.”
“That would be great. I can swing by after work and pick it up, if that’s okay.”
“Ja. Sure. I made ze bee sting cake last night. You and Alex should come to dinner. We can catch up and zen I will give you ze steamer.”
I hesitated. As much as I wanted to have dinner with Otto and Ursula, it felt weird to invade their family time, especially given the awkward state of things between me and Mac.
“Sloan, you come. It will be just us and you and Alex, ja?” Ursula must have sensed my resistance.
“If you’re sure?”
“Ja, I am sure. We would love to see you, and I made your favorite cake. Do you remember ze first time you tasted it?”
I thought back to the memory of Ursula’s delicious cake. She called it a bee sting cake for me, but the traditional German name was a Bienenstich. A yeast cake, almost like a sweet bread with pastry cream and almonds toasted in honey, butter, and heavy cream. Ursula had made the cake on one of my first family dinners. I’m not much of a fan of sugary cakes, but the Bienenstich was beautifully balanced, and Ursula’s homemade pastry cream was a thing of legend. I had eaten two generous slices and would have gone back for thirds if I hadn’t been worried that my stomach might revolt.
Ursula remembered that I enjoyed the cake and had made it for my birthday every year since.
“Yes, it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. You made one last night? It’s not even my birthday.”
“Ja. I know, but I had a feeling zat maybe you might be coming to dinner.” Ursula gave me a knowing grin. “Come by anytime. I will cook some stew.”
My mouth watered at the thought of an Ursula meal. I knew that Alex wouldn’t turn down his grandmother’s cooking either. We agreed upon a time. Before I left Der Keller, I shot Alex a text, asking him to come by Nitro after practice and informing him of our dinner plans.
I should have felt relieved as I returned to Nitro, but instead I felt nostalgic. Otto and Ursula had done everything they possibly could to make me feel like I was still a member of the Krause family, and yet I knew in my heart that as soon as the divorce was final, I was technically on my own again.