Too Dead To Dance (3 page)

I laughed along with her.
Hermann’s population is under 12,000, not what most people would
consider a city of any kind.

While we chatted, Natalie
bounced up to my booth. I stood behind my table, now only half
filled with Primo Gusto Coffee Roasters bags lined up like dominos.
Turning toward her, trying to look business-like, I hoped she
hadn’t heard me complaining about her.

“Jennifer! What are you
doing here? Is business so bad you have to hawk your coffee at a
craft fair?”

I looked at her, so
perfectly groomed with every hair in place. She was wearing cool
green Capri pants and a white top with an appliquéd sailboat on it.
Natalie looked as if she’d just finished posing for a Macy’s
ad.

Unlike me, she had no
coffee stains on her blouse nor did she appear rumpled in the heat.
How do people like her stay so fresh and crisp? For cripes sake,
she was wearing pumps at a fairgrounds! Who does that? I looked
down at my soiled sneakers and recognized another reason I couldn’t
stand her.

“Actually, Natalie,” I
replied through clenched teeth, “It’s a great way for me to expand
my customer base. This Columbian coffee is dark and strong. I call
it ‘Dunkle Starke.’ Would you like a cup?”

“I suppose. Did you hear
about Sister Bernadine?”

“Sister Bernadine? Did
something happen to her? Is she okay?”

“Oh, she’s fine, just
running off her big mouth again.” Natalie said. “She got into a
loud fight with one of the musicians in the Windig Sangers Band and
the guy called her the ‘B’ word. Then she said even though he’d
always been a less than honest person, she’d continue to pray for
him. He got really mad, shook his fist at her, and told her he
didn’t need her prayers and if she didn’t keep her nose out of his
business, she’d be sorry. It’s a terrible thing to say to a nun,
don’t you think?”

I gazed at her and shook my
head. She sure could say a lot without taking a breath.

“How do you like this
coffee?” I asked, trying to change the subject. I knew the nun’s
temper and I didn’t want to hear anymore. “It’s a favorite of the
people here at the festival. I just roasted the beans last
night.”

Natalie took a sip from the
paper cup. “This is actually good, Jennifer. I had no idea you knew
what you were doing. Although it’s way too hot for coffee today.”
She ran her index finger across one of the coffee bags, and looked
at her fingertip. Guess she thought my coffee was dusty. “I’ll take
a pound of this.”

While I put her purchase in
a bag and wrote up the receipt, Natalie kept on yakking.

“I think you should talk to
Sister Bernadine. That man looked downright mean. She never did
know when to keep her nose out of other people’s business. Did you
hear about Mrs. Reinhart, the high school counselor? Her daughter,
Nancy is pregnant. I can’t imagine how embarrassing that must be
for her. So, is your divorce final yet?”

“Not yet. I’d rather not
talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, I
understand. Are you still staying at Megan’s? I know she’s your
best friend but I can’t imagine living with her. She’s such a smart
aleck, it would drive me nuts.”

“No, I’ve moved into a
townhouse across the street from her.”

“Oh, how nice. I heard that
Edwin is seeing a younger woman. Marty something or another. Do you
know her?”

“You know, Natalie, I’m
kind of busy, can we talk about this another time?”

Natalie looked around to
see if there were people behind her waiting. There wasn’t another
customer in sight. Pursing her lips she said, “That’s fine,
Jennifer. I suppose it’s hard to talk about it. I have to be going
anyway. See ya.”

She grabbed her coffee,
stuck it in a canvas tote with a slogan stating, “Everyone Loves a
German Girl” over a black, red and yellow heart and swept through
the double doorway. I turned toward Trudy, sitting in her bobbin
lace booth, shrugged my shoulders and handed her a cup of
coffee.

She took a tentative sip.
“My, this is sure good coffee. I’m Trudy Neumann. I couldn’t help
overhearing your friend. My husband, Ray, is the leader of the band
she was talking about. She didn’t mention the person the nun had
the argument with, did she?”

I thought for a moment,
introduced myself and then said, “I’m sure Natalie didn’t know or
she’d have made sure to mention it. I’m still amazed she liked my
coffee. She’s told our friends I have a strange little hobby. If
she only knew how much income this ‘little hobby’
generates!”

“Probably more than my
little lace shop. It’s in a converted garage and is plum full of
threads and needlework supplies.”

“I’ll drive over and check
it out soon. Do you have classes?” I asked.

“Yah, Lots of classes.
Customers need an excuse to drive over to Itzeg for supplies. I
teach the crochet and tatting classes. Also bobbin lace making like
I’m doing here today. My friend, Clara, she teaches needlepoint and
counted cross stitch. We found a Swedish lady to teach hardanger
and huck embroidery. We have it all covered except for knitting. I
knit some but not enough to teach a class. If you give me your
email address, I’ll put you on my newsletter list. Well, Clara will
put you on the email list. I don’t know anything about those
computers.”

“That sounds good to me,” I
replied and scribbled my email address on a scrap of paper and
handed it to Trudy.

“Ah, my dear,” she said.
“There’s a price tag in your hair.”

I ran my hand through my
hair again and my fingertips caught on a cellophane sticker. “Guess
my hair cost $12.95.” I groaned, certain Natalie would find my
messiness amusing.

“Is this the first year
you’ve had a booth here? I don’t remember you from last year,”
Trudy asked.

“Yes, this is my first year
here or at any of the festivals around here. Mostly I’ve been
selling my coffee to restaurants. But I just started an internet
website and I thought these festivals and fairs would be a good way
to get more individual customers.”

“Oh, there we go again,
talking about computers. Sometime I think I live in a different
world.”

“It’s really not so hard to
learn, Trudy. They give free classes at the library. You should
take one. Then you won’t feel so out of touch.”

“What a good idea. Maybe I
will. Thanks, Jennifer.”

Trudy and I chatted between
customers and browsers. “Ray and I live in Itzeg. We’re not on the
farm anymore. Ray still farms but the house got too big when the
kids moved out, so we moved to town.”

“It sounds like music is
important to your family.”

“Oh, yah, Ray’s been
playing in polka bands forever. In fact, we met at the Itzeg
Germanfest, thirty-five years ago. My, the time goes by
fast.”

“Oh, I remember
Germanfest,” I said. “Does the festival still bring in more people
than the population of Itzeg?”

“Yah, but there’s good
things about living in a little village. I think our kids were
safer there. At least none of them got in any trouble when they
were growing up. They loved Ray’s music and still reminisce about
all the fun they had as kids going to all the gigs with me and
Ray.”

“I’m sure they have
wonderful memories. Are they all grown up now?”

“Yah, and the girls all
moved to Minneapolis. The oldest is in a rock band. Not my style
but she loves it. I guess Itzeg was too small for them. But my boy,
Charlie, he works the farm with his dad. He lives here in Hermann.
I guess boys need their privacy.” Trudy brought her finger to her
lips and looked up as if she was trying to remember something. “Ya
know, I think Sister Bernadine might have been arguing with, the
newest member of Ray’s band.”

“What makes you think that,
Trudy?”

“I’m not sure but he’s
somewhat of a hothead. Before we even set up this morning, I saw
him arguing with the Fest Meister. And last weekend the band played
at the local Elks Club. Wes blew up at Bobby, another guy in the
band, for cutting in on him while he was dancing with this little
blonde cutie. They weren’t supposed to be on the dance floor
anyway, so Ray bawled out both of them.”

Trudy laughed. “Turns out
the girl was Bobby’s sister, Bridget, and he didn’t want Wes
anywhere near her. Right now Wes is bunked in at his mother’s house
until he gets it all together, whatever that means.”

We were snickering when a
slightly balding man with salt and pepper hair and a beer belly
protruding over his lederhosen, came up to Trudy’s booth and handed
her a Styrofoam box.

I was thinking about how
silly these men looked with their knobby knees and hairy legs in
the short pants. I wondered if the leather pants
chaffed.

“Here’s your dinner, Honey.
Are you sure you don’t want to just shut down and go home when the
building closes at nine? I can get a ride with Vic and
Clara.”

“And miss your accordion
solo at the nightly closing ceremony? Not on your life!”

He patted her shoulder, and
grinned my way. “She’s totally devoted to me.”

Trudy said, “Jennifer, meet
my husband, Ray.”

Ray shook my hand. “Nice to
meet ya. Has Trudy been talking your ear off?”

“Not at all. She just told
me what a great band you have.”

“Yah, she’s my biggest
fan.” We chatted for a few more minutes, and then Ray left to
return to the band and their evening performance.

Around the dinner hour only
a scattering of customers were strolling through the building. I
sold a few more pounds of coffee and Trudy had a flourish of
business with some women who spoke broken English until Trudy
answered in German. They laughed and chatted in the mother tongue
while Trudy tallied up their purchases.

After they left, Trudy
turned to me. “Those women were either musicians or spouses with
one of the bigger bands. They’ll go to several other festivals
around the country before going back to Germany.”

“I see,” I replied.
“Perhaps that’s why they didn’t buy any coffee. It probably
wouldn’t be very fresh by the end of summer when they return to
Germany.”

“No, they just want to save
their money to buy jeans. They each buy a suitcase full of blue
jeans to take back to Germany every year. I guess jeans are very
expensive there and all the teenagers want them. They sure didn’t
mind drinking your samples, did they?”

“Maybe they’ll find it so
delicious that they’ll come back and buy some from me.”

“Yah, sure they will.”
Trudy laughed.

Sally Baumgartner, my most
reliable part-time worker, came to relieve me around five o’clock.
As usual, she bounced in with a greeting for everyone, ready and
able to do whatever I asked of her.

“Hi, Sally. Is that a new
vest?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s new,” she
answered. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do. Where do
you get them? They’re so attractive and unusual”

“My grandmother, who was
born in the Ukraine, makes them for me. I used to think they were
awful and refused to wear them. Lately I noticed how beautiful and
unique they are and got the idea of making them part of my personal
style.”

“They certainly are unique
and this one really looks great with those earrings.”

Her chunky wood earrings,
dangling almost to her shoulders, were a perfect complement to the
brown vest embroidered with bright red and yellow
flowers.

“I made the earrings. Do
you really like them?”

“I do. I don’t know where
you find the time to make jewelry with all your activities. You’re
the busiest girl I know.”

Sally blushed a little,
obviously pleased with the compliment. “I guess we just make time
for the things that we find important.”

“Well, not to put more on
your plate but have you ever thought of asking your grandmother to
teach you to make those vests? You could sell the vests with
matching earrings at festivals like this. It might pay your way
through college.”

“Wow! I never thought of
that. It sounds like a great idea. Do you think people would buy
them?”

“Of course. People love new
and unusual things, especially in fashion. You should try
it.”

“Would you help me with
getting booths and pricing and all that stuff?”

“I’d be glad to, Sally. Why
don’t you start by getting some inventory ready. Make some vests
with matching earrings. We’ll price them separately but display
them together and most people will buy both. They do that in stores
all the time because most people don’t trust their fashion sense
and aren’t sure what goes with what.”

“Wow, that sounds great.
How will I know what to charge?”

“Check out what the going
price is in a store for earrings and vest that are made in
factories. You’ll charge more but it will give you a baseline. Then
when you make the items keep track of how much you spend. We’ll
figure the price from that information.”