After a long day thinning out the growing apples, Bass proved himself to be an eager helper and a mostly quiet companion. They worked until their shoulders ached, pausing long enough to drink water and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the shade of the truck. Ready for dinner and a shower, they walked into the kitchen, where Isaac and Einars already sat at the long table, laughing with Mrs. Dibble. Einars held his normal spot at the head with Isaac to his right and Mrs. Dibble to his left. Her straight gray hair was twisted at the back of her head with a large clip, but a few strands fell onto her face, making her appear girlish as she tapped Einars’s hand at something he’d said. She wore comfortable khaki Capri pants and a simple blue button-down shirt that brought out the silver in her hair. Sanna almost turned back around, but it was too late.
“Sanna, dear. Come here. Your father was just telling me all about the day he fell.”
Mrs. Dibble pulled out the chair next to her and patted it; her rosy cheeks and welcoming smile already had Sanna self-conscious about what they’d been discussing. She could imagine the details her dad was sharing, and none of them had to do with the fall, but everything to do with the story she had told him about Thad’s ill-fated proposal. Isaac waved Bass to his side and spoke softly to him, then pointed to the loft.
Immediately the large, airy room seemed full of more people and more noise. Bass looked to the loft and giggled. When a red ball bounced in front of Sanna, she followed its path to the source—two more boys around the same size as Bass leaned over the railing with arms outstretched, waiting for the ball’s return. They looked vaguely familiar, and she remembered Mrs. Dibble had grandsons. Children were multiplying, and none of the other adults in the house seemed concerned about flying balls and possible broken objects.
“I need to shower.” She held up her hands as evidence.
As she walked behind the counter, keeping her distance, Isaac’s eyes followed her and Mrs. Dibble’s followed his. Great. More fuel for the gossip train.
“Then you can join us when you’re done. Dinner will be finished by then. And I brought cherry strudel for dessert. I made it this morning from the first fresh cherries.”
Sanna may avoid Mrs. Dibble at every possible turn, but her cooking was legendary, the antithesis to Thad’s mother’s pan of indigestion. She wouldn’t say no to that strudel, even if the price was a little gossip.
The echoing noise of the boys on the stairs reminded her of her own childhood, before they’d closed off the bedroom wing and before the Donor left. Sanna only had a few memories of her, fuzzy with time. The Donor wasn’t from Door County, but a small town in northern Wisconsin. She was always happiest when they took trips to Green Bay, or all the way to Milwaukee for a special Christmas shopping trip at the big malls. Sanna remembered being overwhelmed by the traffic and people, but the Donor loved the bustle.
They would put the Christmas tree in the corner, near the staircase. Her dad would climb the steps and lean over the railing to put the star at the top, and the floor would be covered with presents. She and Anders would spend the day playing with the toys while the grown-ups talked and something delicious baked in the kitchen. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect place and now it was so close she could reach out and touch it, and she hated it and yearned for it at the same time.
With the promise of such a tasty dinner, she set her memories and solitude aside after her shower and slipped into a simple blue maxi dress, though it barely covered her calves. She wrapped herself in a light sweater and emerged from the steamy room, hair still damp, but the smell of garlic and tomato sauce made up for the chaos.
Anders now sat at the other end of the great table surrounded by papers, his forehead lined with deep creases, oblivious to the noise. Being a parent must have taught him to tune out the clamor that had somehow gotten louder during her shower.
“Sanna, you look refreshed. You can help me finish dinner,” Mrs. Dibble said.
Mrs. Dibble may have looked tiny in their kitchen designed for Sanna’s tall family, yet she had no problem telling Sanna exactly what to do.
“We need eight forks, plates, and glasses. Get them out and the boys can set the table.” She raised her voice to be heard above the racket. “Boys, in the kitchen now.” Like a herd of elephants, they trampled down the stairs and stood at the end of the counter like soldiers reporting for duty. “Set the table. You boys can sit in the middle while the adults are at the end closest to Mr. Lund.” She turned back to Sanna. “Can you dress the salad? And I’ll get the lasagna and bread out.”
Sanna listened, because what else could she do when faced with such confident commands? In minutes, they were all gathered around the table—even Anders had joined. He took the seat next to Mrs. Dibble, leaving Sanna the seat next to Isaac as the boys took their plates at the middle of the table to snort and make fart jokes. Sanna girded herself for the interrogation about to commence, but it was softened by the feast on the table. Einars always made simple and filling meals for the two of them. They were fine, but they weren’t this. This was a celebration. The lasagna filled a huge roasting pan, covered in thick browned cheese that was crispy in the corners.
“Get me a corner piece, and I’ll owe you one,” Sanna whispered to Isaac, who sat closer to the pan.
“I’ll hold you to that.” He scooped the darkest corner onto her plate with a wink that caused Sanna’s heart to skip. She wished she could come up with a pithy response, but instead she turned her attention to the food, unable to find her words.
The garlic bread was made from a local bakery’s signature item, the giant Corsica loaf. It was slathered in sesame seeds and baked in olive oil so the bottom was crispy yet dripping. Mrs. Dibble had carved huge slices, coated each with garlic butter, then warmed it until the butter soaked in. The salad rounded it out, something light to balance all the heavy food so you could keep nibbling on lettuce to stretch the time at the table.