Where a “,but God” Becomes a Story of Restoration in Reedville

The first thing you notice when you walk into Fawn’s Delectables Café isn’t the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls—though that will get your attention quickly.

It’s the words.

Right there at the register, where every customer can see them, are two simple, powerful words:
“,but God.”

They’re not there by accident.
They’re the reason the café exists at all.

Fawn Deihl didn’t set out to open a café. In fact, there was a season when she wasn’t sure she’d ever find her way back to Reedville at all.

“I never thought I’d be able to come back here,” she shares honestly. “It’s a small town.”

Life had taken her down a difficult road—one marked by loss, humility, and starting over. A few years ago, she found herself doing something she had never done before: waitressing. Coffee shops. Breakfast spots. One small step at a time.

Looking back now, she sees it differently.

Or, as she’s come to say it now—
there’s always a comma, not a period.

,but God

Today, Fawn is remarried to her husband, John Mark, and together they’ve built something neither of them could have imagined during those harder years.  Together, they’ve also rebuilt something even more meaningful—life close to home, with their three sons all living locally and a growing family woven into the rhythm of everyday life.

The building that now houses Fawn’s Delectables Café was once an old dentist’s office—complete with brown carpet, a dated water fountain, and decades of wear. When they first walked in, John Mark saw a property.

Fawn saw something else entirely.

“I said, ‘No… I want a coffee shop. A bakery,’” she recalls.

At the time, she couldn’t get a loan. So she took a leap—drawing from what she had saved to fund the renovation.  Day by day, they worked side by side, tearing down, rebuilding, and reimagining the space.

“We were here every single day,” she says.

They opened their doors in May of 2023.

Even then, there was uncertainty.  But in the middle of that uncertainty, other local business owners stopped by during renovations with a message she’s never forgotten:

“Don’t worry—the locals will support you.”

She pauses, smiles, and adds simply, “And they have.”

That support is now woven into the daily rhythm of the café.

There are the regulars—some who come once a day, others twice. Two standing Friday morning groups have become part of the fabric of the place: one older group who arrive right at 6:00 a.m., and another just behind them—“the young guys,” she laughs—in their 60s and 70s.

“They haven’t missed a Friday,” she says.

For Fawn, that’s been the most rewarding part of all.

“The people.”

Of course, the food doesn’t hurt.

Her cinnamon rolls are a customer favorite, along with the bacon, egg, and cheese croissant. And then there’s Miss Clara’s pound cake—a recipe passed down from a local woman known for bringing it to gatherings, now continuing its legacy one slice at a time.

“Everybody knows Miss Clara,” Fawn says.

The menu is part consistency, part creativity—shaped by what’s on hand, what customers request, and what feels right in the moment.

But behind the counter, there’s another layer to the story—one that means just as much.

Fawn runs the café alongside her best friend, Karen Newsome; a friendship that goes all the way back to middle school. Like many lifelong friendships, theirs has seen seasons of closeness and distance, but always found its way back.

“She never gave up on me,” Fawn says quietly.

Now, they work side by side—serving customers, baking, and sharing in the everyday moments that make the café feel like more than just a place to eat.

Ask Fawn what she loves most about living in Reedville, and her answer comes easily now—though she admits it might not have years ago.

“The quiet. The stillness. The community.”

Having seen life beyond it, she’s come to appreciate what was here all along.

“It’s a special place.”

And maybe that’s what makes Fawn’s Delectables Café feel the way it does.

It’s not just the baked goods.
It’s not just the coffee.

It’s the story.

A story of humility.
Of second chances.
Of a community that showed up.

And of a God who never stopped working—even in the middle of the mess.

So when customers walk up to the register and see those words—
“,but God”—they’re not just reading a phrase.

They’re standing inside the story.

 

At Bay River Realty, we have the privilege of introducing people not just to homes, but to the heart of communities like Reedville—where stories like Fawn’s remind us that sometimes the most meaningful places are the ones that welcome you back.