Susie reached for her water glass and took a drink. “I’ve always thought Jerome was a real nice fella. I’m very happy for Marnie.”

Britta agreed. “And to think, they’ve been nearly best friends right from the start.”

“They should be well matched as husband and wife, then,” Susie replied, recalling a time when she might have had such a close relationship with Obie.

Five days before Christmas, Susie and Britta baked a variety of cookies for Aendi Lettie’s upcoming annual cookie exchange. This being Friday, the shop was closed for business, so it was the ideal morning to make lots of goodies.

“It smells wunnerbaar,” Britta said, sniffing the air. “Like when Mamma was here.”

“Say, once we’re finished,” Susie said, “let’s go down and sort through the boxes in the basement.”

Britta agreed. “I wish Mamma could tell us what to do with certain things. There’s so much stuff.”

“Well, don’t worry—I’ve been makin’ a list to send her.”

“That’ll help.” Britta kept spooning up cookie dough for the peanut blossoms.

“Have ya decided when you’ll write to Kathleen?”

“Oh, I’ve already made a pretty Christmas card and mailed it. She should have it soon.”

“So soon!” Susie said, surprised and disappointed.

While dozens of cookies cooled on wax paper, Susie and Britta headed to the basement. Susie wanted to get a head start on organizing the things they wouldn’t have room for at Aendi Emmalyn’s. Even though Allen had said he would not contact their aunt to finalize arrangements till after the new year, Susie still thought it was important to dispose of things and decide what to give away, with Mamma’s permission.

Presently, Britta was rummaging through a large box, and when Susie glanced over at her, Britta was pulling out Dat’s old black work boots. “Why’d Mamma keep these?”

“Those . . . no idea. I thought she’d given them to Allen.” Susie remembered how tall and handsome their father had looked in them and how careful he had always been not to track in mud when he entered the outer room. She’d slipped her own small feet in those boots when she was little, and the memory was still keen in her mind.

Now Britta was pulling out a child-sized yellow safety vest. “Lookee here,” she said, holding up the vest. “I used to wear one like this sometimes after dark when I was little.”

Susie gulped but tried to hide her emotions. “That was Eli’s vest,” she admitted. “Mamma was a stickler ’bout us wearin’ reflective vests when we walked back and forth to Aendi Emmalyn’s at dusk.”

Britta examined it. “Where’s yours?”

“After I grew out of it, Mamma gave it to Polly for her future children.”

“But she kept this one.” Britta looked at Susie. “I wonder why.”