ONCE ALEX HAD A GRASP of our vision, it was time to leave for dinner at Otto and Ursula’s. Kat gave us each a quick hug, which made Alex’s cheeks blaze again. He told her that he would have some preliminary designs for her to look at by the end of the weekend. I was sure that our project was going to take top priority, given the fact that he kept glancing at Kat and then looking at his feet as we walked out together.
My only concern (aside from not wanting his heart to get broken) was that his crush might interfere with studying for midterms.
“Remember, this a side project,” I cautioned as we got into the car. “I know that you still have to study for midterms.”
“It’s fine, Mom. I have one more test tomorrow and then a three-day weekend. Since I don’t have a midterm Monday, I’m off. I can sketch out some ideas this weekend and then make any changes on Monday. It will be fun.”
“I’m glad you’re willing to be part of it.” I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I changed the subject. “Dad and I had lunch today.”
Alex tried to sound nonchalant, but I could hear a tightness in his response. “Oh yeah. About what?”
“Lots of stuff. Like Der Keller. I think Uncle Hans is ready to hire the first person who walks through the doors. He’s been there a lot.”
“Yeah, every time I’ve been there, he’s been working.”
“Right. Our goal is to hire a general manager to take the pressure off of him and Dad.” I navigated out of the village and onto the highway. Otto and Ursula lived on the opposite side of town. “We also talked about Dad finding a new place, and we’re in complete agreement that we want to keep things as normal for you as possible. Our plan, assuming you’re okay with it, is to keep the schedule the same. You’ll be with me on school nights and stay with Dad every other weekend and whenever else you want. Maybe nights like Sunday, when you don’t have school the next day? That way you won’t have to worry about having school things at two places.”
“That’s cool.” Alex stared out the window. I knew that he was holding something back.
“Unless you would rather stay at Dad’s more. We can do alternating days, if that feels better.”
“Mom, it’s cool.”
Alex had shut down. I wasn’t going to get more out of him by forcing the issue. At some point I would have to push him out of his comfort zone, but that wasn’t tonight.
We arrived at Otto and Ursula’s, and to my delight, Hans’s beat-up pickup truck was parked in the driveway. The Krauses’ three-story Victorian sat on two acres with a woodshop and views of the rugged Enchantments. The alpine lake wilderness area known as the Enchantments boasted some of the most spectacular views and hiking in the region. When Alex was young, Mac used to strap him to a baby backpack and we would venture for miles through glacial lakes, past tundra meadows where mountain goats would gather to munch on the wild grasses. The grueling hike could be treacherous, with steep crevasses and slippery, craggy terrain. Mac would always ignore my warnings to watch his footing as he scrambled up the side of a cliff in order to get a better view of a frigid lake.
“You didn’t say that Uncle Hans was coming,” Alex said, practically jumping out of the car.
“I didn’t know he was.”
“Is Dad coming too?” Alex already had one foot out of the door.
“Oma didn’t say,” I lied.
Otto came out onto the wraparound front porch to greet us. A hummingbird buzzed by my ear en route to refuel at one of the many glass feeders hanging from the porch.
“Sloan, Alex, come in,” Otto said, rubbing his arms. He wore a white wool sweater that I guessed had been hand knitted by Ursula. “Ze air, it is cold tonight, ja?”
“My math teacher told us it might snow, Opa,” Alex said, greeting Otto with a hug.
Alex towered over his grandfather. I loved watching the two of them together. Otto, like Hans, had always had an affinity for woodworking. He had created a woodshop in the backyard where he, Hans, and Alex had spent countless hours whittling toy trains and building hand-carved furniture. It hadn’t come as much of a surprise that Hans decided to make a career out of his childhood hobby. I think that Otto and Ursula had been disappointed at first that Hans didn’t follow in their footsteps and opt to manage Der Keller, but at the same time, they were supportive of whatever led their boys to happiness. Hans was obviously happiest when he was coated in sawdust and running a fragrant sheet of cedar through his saw.
“Can I take Alex for a moment, Sloan?” Otto asked, inviting us inside. “Hans has something to show him, ja?”
Hans appeared in the doorway. He waved to me and then nodded and winked at Alex.
“Of course. He’s all yours.” I greeted Hans with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll go see if Ursula needs help.”
The three of them hurried off to the workshop. I wondered what Hans wanted to show Alex.
“Ursula, are you in the kitchen?” I called.
“Ja. Come in, come in.”
The vintage kitchen paid homage to the Krauses’ roots with a blue-and-white-tile backsplash, butcher-block countertops, and a hanging pot rack above the island with dangling copper pots and pans. A collection of German china was displayed above the sink. Ursula stood at the stove, a traditional alpine-style apron with creamy white lace tied around her waist. Her cane was propped against the cupboards.
“Shouldn’t you be using that?” I asked.
“Ja, but it is too hard when I am making ze dinner. I will use it when I am walking, I promise.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Isn’t the idea to use it all the time so your hip can heal?”
Ursula swatted the air. “No. It is fine, Sloan. I will take it easy. You can set ze table, okay?”
I gave her a stare that I usually reserved for Alex. “I’ll gladly set the table, but I’m keeping an eye on you, young lady. If you overdo it, I’m going to force you to sit.”
She laughed. “You are as bad as my doctor.”
I knew Ursula’s kitchen as well as my own. I removed a stack of white china plates with a blue filigree design that had originally belonged to her grandmother and placed them on the large oval dining table.
“Dinner smells amazing. Is that your famous sauerbraten stew I smell?”
“Ja.”
Ursula’s stew was perfect fall comfort food, simmered for hours with pork, cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots, celery, spices, and her magic secret ingredient—crushed gingersnap cookies.
“Did you peek in at ze cake?” Ursula pointed to the fridge, where photos of Alex in his soccer uniform and all of us at a variety of family picnics and holidays covered every square inch of the double doors.
“No, don’t tempt me. I might skip dinner and dive right into the cake.”
“Take a look and see what you zink.” Ursula rolled up the sleeves of her red sweater.
I opened the fridge. The bee sting cake sat on a porcelain cake plate. Ursula had cut the golden, doughy cake into two layers that were sandwiched together with luscious pastry cream. The top of the cake had been baked with the buttery almonds, toasted with honey. They had crystallized into a crunchy crust.
“It looks better than I remember it.”
Ursula smiled. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and removed her apron. I almost jumped to her rescue when she reached for her cane and nearly missed. Fortunately, she caught herself on the counter.
“It is okay. I’m fine. Come sit.” She motioned to the table.
I pulled out a chair for her.
“Will you get some of ze beer? I have bottles chilling in ze fridge. We can share one while we wait for ze men to return from ze workshop.”
“What would you like?” I returned to the fridge. It was difficult to resist the cake. Would anyone notice if I took a swipe of the oozing pastry cream?
“You choose. You are ze guest.”
“That’s so much pressure,” I teased. Then I removed a bottle of Der Keller’s signature German pale ale. It was brewed with imported hops from the village where Otto and Ursula had first met. The beer poured the color of a copper penny.
I gave a glass to Ursula and sat next to her.
“Good choice.” She raised her glass to mine. “Prost.”
“Prost.”
The beer had a bready aroma and a hint of grapefruit. The first sip brought out the flavor of caramelized toast and candied lemon.
“It is good, ja?” Ursula sipped her beer.
“One of the best.” Since we were alone, I wanted to ask her about my parents, but before I could think of a way to start the conversation, she asked about how the wallpaper project was progressing.
“Would you like to borrow ze steamer?” she asked.
“We would love to. I told Garrett about it, and he’s ecstatic about trying anything that doesn’t involve sloppy glue remover and scraping.”
She smiled. “Ja, you will still have to scrape, but it will be easier, I zink.”
“Thanks again for letting us borrow it.”
“It is nothing. Do you want me to show it to you?” She started to get up.
“No. Sit, relax. It can wait until after dinner. You should just enjoy your beer.”
“Sloan, you know ziz is never a problem for me.” Smile lines creased her face. Her thick white hair made her look almost angelic.
We laughed for a minute. I shifted in my chair. “Ursula, I’ve been wanting to ask you something, but haven’t been able to figure out a way to start, so I guess I’m just going to come out and ask.”
“Ja, anything for you, Sloan.” She placed her hand over mine. Her fingers were warm to the touch. “Is it about Mac?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Mac and I are doing the best we can. I would never put you in the middle of it. Mac is your son.”
She held my gaze with her commanding eyes. “And you are my daughter.”
I fought back tears. “Actually, that’s what I want to ask you about.”
She removed her hand from mine. “Ja?”
“It’s about my parents.”
A strange look flashed across her face. Was I imagining things? Or did Ursula know something that she wasn’t telling me?
“What about zem?” She clasped her hands around her pint glass. When she raised it to her lips, I noticed that it trembled ever so slightly.
It was the same reaction that I had witnessed when she had seen the photo of the woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to me. I had created a gallery wall at Nitro with old photos from Garrett’s aunt’s collection. On opening night, Ursula had stared at the photo in disbelief. Anytime I asked her about it, she denied that she’d had a strange response. Strangely, she had cautioned me not to go searching for answers about my parents. I hadn’t told her about my meeting with Sally. I had needed some time to figure out what our next move was going to be.
“I met with my social worker a few weeks ago.”
Ursula’s face went ashen. “Ja?”
“Yes, Sally. She came to Nitro to share my old case file with me.”
I waited. Ursula took a large gulp of her beer.
“Sally, as I’m sure I’ve told you dozens of times, saved my life. If it hadn’t been for her, who knows where I would have ended up.”
“Sloan, do not say ziz. You have always been strong.” Ursula patted my wrist.
“Maybe, but Sally was my constant, my one steady point person in a tumultuous sea of changing families. I’m sad that she and I lost contact after I moved here, but we picked right back up where we left as if no time had passed.”
“Ja, I can see ziz.” She tried to steady her hands by firming her grip on the pint glass. “What does ziz have to do with me?”
“Sally is helping me look for my parents.” I didn’t share any details about the missing therapy notes and Sally’s suspicion that someone higher up in the organization had ensured that I would never find my parents. Nor did I mention Sally’s concern that hunting down my history could be dangerous.
Ursula took another long drink from her beer. She traced the rim of the glass with a shaky finger. “And you want to try to do ziz, Sloan? What if finding your parents leads to unhappiness? I do not want for you to be unhappy. You have a vonderful family with us, ja? Why do you need to do ziz?”
“I know. I can’t thank you enough for opening your arms to me and making me part of this family, but I have to do this. I have to know what happened. In part because of what’s happened between me and Mac. As hard as it’s been, the past few months have shed so much light on my choices. I don’t want to repeat the past, and in order not to do that, I have to understand my past.”
A sad smile spread across her face. “Ja. I understand.”
“Ursula.” I reached for her arm. “Is there something that you know? That you’re not telling me?”
She set down her beer. I watched as her breath quickened and she blinked rapidly. A tear slid down her cheek. “Ja, Sloan. Ja.”
My stomach flopped. Maybe I shouldn’t have pressed her. What if whatever she was about to tell me would change our relationship forever?