The Baker's Daughter

Chapter Forty-six

56 LUDWIGSTRASSE

GARMISCH, GERMANY

OCTOBER 5, 1967

Dear Tante Elsie,

Thank you again for the McCall’s dress pattern and the Beatles album you sent. We got a new radio station here. It is called the British Broadcasting Corporation. Have you heard of it in America? It plays all the good music, even Jim Morrison. And today, Tony Blackburn (the announcer on Radio 1) was talking about everything that’s going on over there with you. Is it true that American mobs are protesting in the streets? It is hard to imagine, but Oma says it’s the way of war. She worries about you. I explained to her that Vietnam is where the fighting is and that is far away from Texas. Still, she tells me to write you to keep baby Jane and Onkel Albert close by and the doors locked tight.

She would write you as well, but she’s already gone to bed. For the past couple months she’s been sleeping much more than is customary. She didn’t want me to mention it to you before—claiming it was allergies from the change of season and drinking her teas for this or that—but it’s well into fall now and she’s more tired than ever. She fights me about visiting the doctor. I tell her they have pills for almost everything these days, but she refuses. Maybe you could talk to her. Ask Onkel Albert what he thinks.

Other than that, we are well here. Opa is good. Still insisting on making the first batch of brötchen himself even though we’ve hired two trained bakers and one chocolatier. Hugo is the best of the three and the most recently employed. He apprenticed with a pastry chef in the Bishopric of Liège, Belgium, and has added waffles to our menu. I’ve gained five pounds since his arrival and loved every bite of it! In a perfect world, I’d enclose one of Hugo’s waffles with this letter. I’m positive you would love them as much as the rest of us. Business has increased almost 20 percent, and Opa couldn’t dote on the man any more. He loves him like the son he never had.

A gelato shop opened next door—the American tourists and military are crazy for the stuff. So Hugo and Opa are discussing plans to sell waffle cones to the gelateria. Business is booming, and we’re all glad for that.

I asked Opa last night if we turn a good profit by the end of the year, if I might go to university in the spring. I believe I would like to study history or literature. I’m not sure which. In either case, I’ve put it off too long already. In my dreams, I’d come to the United States. There are so many wonderful schools there, but I couldn’t leave Oma and Opa. I’ll probably apply to LMU Munich. Opa said that was a good plan. So now I just need to get in. Pray for me. I want this more than just about anything.

I must go now. I have to sweep the kitchen before bed. It’s not so bad now that I can listen to the radio while I do it!

My love to you, Jane, and Onkel Albert,

Lillian

P.S. I nearly forgot! Julius has finally wed! He sent us word last month. Her name is Klara and she is from Lübeck. Her father is a banker, and so they have moved to Hamburg for Julius to manage the Hamburg Bank. We didn’t get any more detail than that. You know Julius.

56 LUDWIGSTRASSE

GARMISCH, GERMANY

OCTOBER 19, 1967

Dear Tante Elsie,

So much has happened in such a short time, I don’t where to begin. Opa refuses to let me send a telegram or call long distance, so I am mailing this and pray you receive it as fast as humanly possible. We have just returned from the hospital. Oma took a turn for the worse. For three days, she lay in bed without a crumb to eat or sip of tea. I was so frightened that I called the emergency Krankentransporte.

They say it is cancer. Oh, Tante Elsie, if only I had done something months ago! If we had caught it sooner perhaps-.-.-. but now, it is too late. They sent her home, and Opa and I are at her bedside every hour.

I am inconsolable and would never ask this unless it was as dire as it is. Please, come home. The doctor says she could be with us for weeks or a handful of days. Opa refuses to accept the gravity of her prognosis. I don’t think he can imagine his life without her—or will let himself. It will break his heart and mine. I can’t endure this alone. Come back to us.

Faithfully,

Lillian