Without a Brew

by Ellie Alexander

  My relief was short-lived. The first person I bumped into in the village when I went into work after lunch was April Ablin. She wore what I could only describe as a German princess costume meant for a three-year-old. The dress was crafted of silver and periwinkle blue tulle with hundreds of shimmering sequins. Her matching tights and white fur-lined snow boots had also been bedazzled. A fake white rabbit’s fur shawl hung around her shoulders. The only thing she was missing was a wand.

  “Guten Tag, Sloan.” April waved from the gazebo where she was instructing a crew how to best position new IceFest banners with her face plastered all over them. “You’ve heard the news, haven’t you?”

  “About IceFest?”

  She fumed. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous, Sloan. About the arrest. The killer was apprehended last night, and it was quite the scene. A huge chase through Blackbird Island. They thought they might have to evacuate the village.”

  Classic April.

  “Oh, really?” I played along with her charade. “Sorry I missed it.”

  “You won’t believe who the killer is.” She proceeded to tell me what I already knew, along with an assortment of half-truths and wild lies.

  “I’m so glad that Leavenworth is safe again,” I said when she finished her exaggerated version of last night’s events.

  “That’s all you have to say?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Anyway, did you get a call from the home inspector yet?”

  Ah. That was probably the number I didn’t recognize earlier. “I haven’t checked my voicemail.”

  “Well, please get on that. You want to close this deal, don’t you?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Sloan, why do you have to be so difficult sometimes? Check your voicemail and call the inspector so we can get in there and see if anything is falling apart.”

  “Oh no, do you think the house is falling apart?” It wasn’t very nice of me, but I couldn’t resist messing with her.

  “No, no, the cottage is in fantastic shape, don’t start having second thoughts.” She fumbled through another few sentences before I stopped her.

  “I’ve got to get to work, I’ll call the inspector later.”

  “I’m holding you to that, Sloan!” She fluffed her dress. “By the way, speaking of IceFest, this is what I mean by der-bling. You and Garrett really need to up your game when it comes to costuming. Our guests expect to be dazzled when they arrive in the village, and you need to look the part.”

  “I’ll get right on that, April. Don’t worry.” I smirked as I crossed Front Street. Preparations for IceFest were in full swing. I waved to familiar faces and headed to Nitro. The tasting room was buzzing with activity. Kat stood behind the bar.

  “Hey, what’s with the rush?” I asked, gingerly removing my injured arm from my coat sleeve.

  She pointed to Brad, who was sitting with three men in suits. “The press was here earlier. Now he’s meeting with a team of lawyers who came in from Seattle to start working on Ali’s defense.”

  “Is he still staying here?”

  Kat shook her head. “No, he said he’ll be leaving in an hour or two. He’s going to Wenatchee to be closer to Ali.”

  I helped Kat with orders. The rest of the crowd consisted of locals who had stopped by for the gossip. Brad came up to the bar to close out his tab.

  “Hi, how are you doing?” I asked.

  “Not great.” He glanced at the team of lawyers. “I’ve hired the best defense team in the state, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “That’s probably all you can do. Ali’s lucky to have you.”

  He looked as if he had aged a decade overnight. “I’m sticking by her side. I won’t let her go through this alone. Some of it is my fault.”

  “It’s good to hear that you’re going to be there for her, but you can’t take responsibility for her actions.”

  He scribbled his signature on the receipt I had printed for him. “I know. It’s just terrible. I can’t believe I’m the one who reconnected her with Lily. If I hadn’t done that, she wouldn’t be in jail right now.”

  “You don’t know that. She has obviously held on to a lot of grief, sadness, and anger. My bet is that she would have tracked her down eventually.”

  “Maybe.” He folded the receipt and stuck it in his wallet. “Thanks for your help. I heard what she did to you last night. There’s no reason for you to be kind to me. It means a lot.”

  “I’m sorry that it went down like this.” My hand instinctively went to my shoulder.

  “Me too.”

  He left. I wondered what would happen to their relationship. It was valiant of Brad to stick by Ali, but if she ended up in prison for life, that could change.

  Garrett and I spent the afternoon working on our new beer, which was a relief because I had summoned the courage and called Ursula. I was due to meet them at Der Keller for dinner. I wasn’t sure if I could have contained my nervous anticipation if it weren’t for losing myself in the brewing process. The citrusy scent of our Northwest-style hops and steeping grains made Lily’s death less glaring. I concentrated my energy on new thoughts and what lay ahead. The Bavarian IceFest would bring happy crowds to the village, we had our spring line of beers to focus on, and I was about to move into a charming cottage that I could make completely my own. Things were changing. The thought of redefining my life was daunting, but as I snuck a sideways glance at Garrett, who was trying to see through steamy brewing goggles, I knew that there was one major difference in my life—I wasn’t alone.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

  WHEN I HAD CALLED URSULA about getting together, I had gone back and forth about meeting somewhere private versus public. Ultimately I landed on Der Keller because it was midweek and the restaurant shouldn’t be crowded and because if the conversation didn’t go well, I could easily bolt.

  I said my good-byes to Garrett and Kat, zipped up my hooded parka, and left Nitro. My heart thudded in my chest as I made the short walk toward Der Keller. Thankfully Hans, Mac, and Alex were having a guys’ night out at the Festhalle, where there was a Warren Miller film playing. Different versions of what I intended to say rang through my head as I turned onto Front Street. Der Keller sat at the far end of the block directly across from the Festhalle. I could see the twinkling balls of string lights dangling from Der Keller’s wood-beamed rafters in the distance.

  You can do this, Sloan.

  I gave myself a pep talk and squared my shoulders.

  Once inside the brewery, I was greeted by more tiny white twinkling lights, German flags and banners, and the delicious scent of simmering goulash.

  “Hey, Sloan. You here to meet the Krauses? They have a table in the back.” One of the bartenders pointed me in the direction of a cozy collection of tables behind the bar.

  I spotted Otto and Ursula at a booth. My stomach flopped, and my heart beat even faster as I approached their table.

  “Sloan, we are so happy you called. Sit. Sit.” Ursula pressed her hands together as she spoke. She wore one of her signature hand-knitted shawls.

  I slid into the booth.

  Otto nodded at the stein of beer waiting for me. “Dis is our newest batch. It is a new recipe. A dark IPA. Not our usual German-style. Mac, he has been convincing us zat we need to break free from only ze German beers. You must try, ja.”

  The ale was opaque black. I held my glass to the light, barely able to see through it. Then I took a sniff.

  Otto grinned in approval. “Zat is our girl.”

  I breathed in through my nose. Despite its dark color, the beer had a light and bright scent, with notes of resin, chocolate, and berries. I took a sip. It had a nice balance of fruitiness mingled with a touch of spice, and a hoppy finish.

  “This is nice,” I said, taking another taste.

  “Ja. I zink it is very nice for ze winter.” Otto held his stein of the dark IPA up in a toast.

  I couldn’t even fake a smile. “I think you both kno
w why we’re here.” I set my glass on the table. “I don’t want to prolong this, and I can’t pretend that everything’s okay right now.”

  “We understand.” Ursula placed a hand on Otto’s leg. “We are happy zat you are willing to sit with us. We will tell you whatever you want to know.”

  A waiter started to approach our table. Ursula looked to me. “Should we wait to order?”

  “No. Now is fine.” The fewer interruptions, the better, as far as I was concerned.

  Otto and Ursula ordered schnitzel and potato soup. I opted for the goulash. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, I leaned closer.

  “Before we even get into what you may know about my mom, I need to tell you that I know. I know about your past. I know about your real names.”

  Ursula let out a small gasp.

  Otto put his arm around her.

  I wished I had brought the files that Sally had given me, because for a moment, I didn’t think they were going to respond.

  Ursula dabbed her eyes with a napkin. Otto stared at his beer.

  We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity.

  Finally, Otto broke the awkwardness. “Ja, it is true. We had hoped zat we had left zat all behind us when we came here, but we knew at sometime ze truth it would come out. Ze truth, it has a way of following you and finding you.”

  So it was true? My stomach dropped.

  “Have you told ze boys?” Ursula said through tears. “I do not know how zey will handle ze news. It will be terrible for zem.”

  “It’s terrible for all of us. I don’t understand. Why? Why would you lie? And why Leavenworth?”

  “It seemed like ze best place for us,” Otto offered. He kept his arm firmly secured around Ursula. “At ze time, it was new and fresh and very far away from our homeland. It was perfect because we knew no one. No one would find us here, and it had so many good feelings of our village back in Germany. It is not ze same as living in Germany, but it was close and familiar, and we zink zat would be easier for raising ze boys. We could give zem a taste of Germany if we could not live zere and live near our family anymore. It was a big sacrifice to come here, but we made it work, and we found friends and created our own family.”

  I had no idea how to respond. The way he was talking made it sound like they were the victims. “A new life?” I couldn’t stop the disgust in my tone. “Think of all of the people who don’t have an opportunity to flee their past and start over. You completely erased your past. You lied to your children. You moved here under false identities. I don’t understand, and I don’t have any sympathy for you.”

  Ursula sobbed louder. Luckily, the section of the restaurant we were seated in was otherwise empty.

  “It was horrible, Sloan. I know you have not known your family, which is a tragedy, but it was also a tragedy to be forced to leave ze country you have loved. Forced out for no reason. Do you zink zat we have enjoyed living a lie? No. Of course we have not. It has been in my head every day since Mac was born. What would he do when he finds out. I had hoped zat would not happen until after we were gone, or if we were very lucky, maybe never.”

  I took a long, slow sip of the black IPA in an attempt to steady my feelings before speaking. This wasn’t how I had imagined the conversation would go. “It’s going to be worse than just Mac and Hans learning that you’ve been living a lie. The entire community is going to find out. You could be going to jail.”

  The color drained from both of their faces.

  “What are you saying?” Otto looked confused.

  “You’ve been running from the law for what—forty-five years? The crimes that you’re involved with are catching up to you. The FBI is involved now, and you want my sympathy? I’m sorry. I can’t. I feel like I don’t even know you.” My cheeks warmed, and my neck flushed with heat as I spoke.

  “Crimes? What is she talking about?” Ursula turned to Otto.

  “We have not been involved in any crimes,” Otto said to me. His eyes were bright with surprise. “What is zis crime you are talking about?”

  Before I could answer, our food arrived. I pushed my bowl of goulash to the side. The hearty scent of beef, paprika, red wine, and vegetables usually made me polish off an entire serving and consider seconds. But tonight I had no appetite.

  Neither Otto nor Ursula touched their dinners either. They gazed at me with wrinkled brows. “Sloan, maybe we are talking of different zings. We are not criminals.”

  “I saw the files. I saw your real names. You’ve admitted that you fled Germany and created new personas here. What do you want me to say?”

  “What files?”

  “The files that the FBI have on you. I should have brought them with me. They’re at home. You are both labeled as being dangerous and having deep connections to Nazi leaders, including Otto’s uncle.”

  They recoiled in unison. It was as if they were deflecting my punch.

  “No, no. Zis is a mistake. You do not understand. We are not Nazis. My uncle, he was no Nazi. He had ze unfortunate luck of sharing ze same name as one of ze men from ze regime, but zat is it.”

  “But you just said you fled Germany.”

  “Ja. Ja,” Ursula chimed in. “Because it was too hard to zink about raising children in ze shadow of ze war. Otto was worried about his name because so many war crimes had been committed. After occupation, many war criminals, zey would steal names like Otto’s family to escape conviction. Times, zey were very dark. Deutschland had external peace but internal strife with ze Red Army, kidnappings, terror attacks. Zis was ze height of ze Cold War when we left.”

  I wanted to believe them. Their story lined up with my gut feeling about the Otto and Ursula who had adopted me as their own daughter and invited me into their family many years ago. “Then why change your names and remove any trace of your past when you came here?”

  Otto answered. “It was a different time. Germany was trying to rebuild after ze war, but our country did not have good relations with ze rest of ze world. It is understandable, ja. During ze war, many, many families like ours did not support ze efforts and worked to help harbor and protect our Jewish friends and neighbors. When we decided we wanted to try for children, we knew we needed a fresh start. We didn’t want anything to be attached to zem and us zat could be bad or associated with ze war. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea, but by ze time we would want to tell Hans and Mac, it is too late. We have been living as ze Krauses for their entire lives. Why would we ruin zat for zem? Why would we make zem question us?”

  Ursula stirred her soup. She lifted her spoon as if to take a bite, and then returned it to the bowl. “Sloan, we should have told you. We should have told Mac and Hans. I can only tell you how very sorry I am, and I promise zat we made a choice to create new lives out of love. Zat is all.” Tears flooded her light eyes.

  I reached my hand across the table to console her.

  “You believe us, ja?” Otto asked.

  I inhaled deeply. “Yes, I think I do. I want to. I love you both. You’ve been the only family I’ve ever known, but I still have so many questions, and I don’t understand how this connects to you not telling me about Marianne.”

  Otto removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handed it to Ursula. She dried her eyes. Then she bent down to pick up her purse. “I have something to show you.” She took out a folded sheet of paper and placed a trembling hand over the top. “It is true zat I have kept ziz from you, but as you will see from ze note, she asked me to do zis.”

  She slid the paper to me.

  I opened it to discover lovely cursive handwriting on the page.

  Otto and Ursula,

  You showed me kindness many years ago, and I’d like to ask a favor. Sloan is dear to my heart, and while she might not know it, she is in danger. There’s not much more I can say, other than I ask you to keep watch over her. She’s safe with you. Please never share this with her, it’s better and safer if she doesn’t know. If you should ever need to get in touch with me, y
ou can send a message to the PO box below.

  Kind regards,

  Marianne

  A PO box in Spokane was listed at the bottom of the note.

  “What is this?” I asked, clutching the letter.

  Ursula shrugged. “We do not know. It was waiting for us under the front door the night you and Mac were married.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  Otto shook his head. “No. Zis is the only zing we have ever received in all of ze years we have known you.”

  “Did you ever try to contact her?” The room started to spin. Wavy lines blurred my vision.

  “No. We never had a need. Like she said, you were safe here. We do not know why she came to us with zis, but she must have been keeping watch over you to know that you were here and that you were marrying our son.”

  Why the secrecy? I asked myself. My mother (if Marianne was my birth mother) had been here in Leavenworth on my wedding night? Why wouldn’t she have come to the wedding? And what possible danger could I have been in? It didn’t make sense.

  Ursula nudged Otto. “She does not look so good. Sloan, you are very pale.”

  “I’m okay.” We all knew that wasn’t true.

  “Do you want to eat?” Otto suggested, pointing to my bowl. “Ze goulash, it is good for ze soul.”

  “I need to go.” I folded Marianne’s note in half and stood. The floor felt like it might fall out beneath me.

  Ursula gave me a pleading look. “I am so sorry, my dear Sloan.”

  “I know.” I leaned down and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “Thank you for this.” I held the letter tighter, not that there was any likelihood that she would try to rip it from my hands, but the letter was the first tangible piece of proof I had that someone outside my small world here in Leavenworth knew me. “I need to be alone for a while.”