As they talked about his plans in Sugar Valley, it became obvious that Obie wasn’t going to inquire about Susie’s own plans, or Del Petersheim. It seemed a little strange, since before now, they had always been comfortable talking about the different people each of them had gone out with from time to time. But she kept mum on that and let Obie row the boat.

If the auburn-haired woman had been Amish or Mennonite, Britta might not have given her a second look. But the woman at Saturday market was quite obviously an Englischer and even gave Britta a sweet smile as she caught her eye.

Britta hoped Susie and Mamma, there with her at their usual market stand, hadn’t noticed. It was all Britta could do to stay put there and merely observe the woman.

What if she’s my birth mother, just a few yards away? she thought, her breath coming in little spurts. What would she think if I went over to her and asked some questions?

“Britta,” Susie said, “can you get several more packages of goat cheese from the cooler?”

Jolted out of her thoughts, Britta nodded and leaned down beneath the table to get what Susie needed. More than likely, she was completely wrong about the woman. Does my first mother ever think of me? Britta wondered. Does she ever want to find me and know me now that I’m almost a teenager? What if she is actually fancy?

When Britta rose and gave Susie the goat cheese, Britta could see the woman walking with two young boys, one with hair a similar color to Britta’s own. Oh, she felt frozen in place, yet she wanted with all of her heart to scurry after her and talk to her.

If I could just hear her voice, she thought, maybe I’d know.

Britta smiled at the next customer, who had a question about the ingredients for the peanut butter spread. All the same, she caught herself glancing repeatedly toward the woman and boys until they were out of sight.

Obie had been gone to Sugar Valley for a little more than a week when Susie hurried out to the road to retrieve the mail. Susie sorted through the letters and saw two addressed to her. “For goodness’ sake,” she said, surprised at how happy she was to see Obie’s handwriting. And a letter from Del, too, of all things.

She scurried up the driveway and took her mother’s mail into the kitchen, where Mamma was measuring flour to make dumplings. Then Susie walked back to the shop, presently empty of customers. In the stillness of the cozy spot, she opened Del’s envelope and discovered a note asking her out for supper this Saturday. I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Susie, he’d written.