I’d love for you to tell me a little more, in your next letter, about how everyone around you reacted and less (even if it’s just a little less) about Richard and his dark-blue eyes . . .
Franco has just looked in on me—I am sitting in the orangery, which is beautiful, and I am breathing in the scent of oranges . . . can you even imagine that where you are, deep in snow?—though only to say that he still has at least another two hours of work to get through with his father in the office! And it’s almost six o’clock. Believe me, married life isn’t all wonderful. There are days when I see the cook or the chambermaid more than I see Franco. This despite the fact that he solemnly promised that he would work less in the new year. Well, we shall see . . .
I have just decided not to go in to dinner this evening. When my mother-in-law is the only one at the table, I can’t enjoy the food anyway. And so I have time to write a little more about your second piece of news.
You asked me for my opinion of Heimer and how things stand there. Dearest Wanda, I told you everything I know about his workshop back in New York. When I was still living in Lauscha, I never much troubled my head over other glassblowers and what they might be doing.
However, I was very surprised to hear that Thomas cannot even find customers for his glass hunting scenes. Even with all the goodwill in the world I cannot tell you how he should go about finding new commissions. Perhaps the simplest thing would be to go knocking on the doors of the wholesalers in Sonneberg to find out what sells. The job could be tailor-made for you!
You write that Thomas was very surprised by your offer to help and that he is still very reluctant to accept. Dear Wanda, that must be the understatement of the century, surely?! I can’t imagine that stubborn old fool taking advice from anyone—even you. I do know that much about the Heimer men—they are muleheaded as can be and entirely convinced that they know best! The fact that you are still prepared to try your luck with them is proof of your kind and helpful nature, which I came to know so well in New York. Only time will tell, though, whether this is the mission that you have spent so long looking for. All I can do is advise you to take things slowly and not put all your heart and soul into it.
And please: write to your mother and try to explain to her why you have taken such drastic steps—Ruth loves you more than you know and the same goes for Steven.
Now I have some news for you in turn. (Please be so good as to pass on these pages of the letter to Johanna so that I do not have to write everything twice.)
I should have told you all long ago, but I thought that after all the trouble I had caused the best thing to do would be to let tempers cool for a while . . .
I am going to be a mother!
The little one is due in May—what do you say to that? I am most wonderfully happy as I am sure you can imagine. For years and years I thought that I was one of those women who was not destined to have children, and then a younger man comes my way and I am fertile after all! I already have a little bump and Franco says that if I carry on eating for two he will be able to roll me through the palazzo. Now and again I have cramps. Franco says that this is the child being cheeky with us. I have been wondering whether I should visit a doctor, but when I think how simple things were for Johanna even with the twins . . . She was on her feet in the workshop the very day she gave birth, and back at work not two weeks later. So of course that lifts my spirits whenever I feel a twinge in my back or a pain in my womb. Ah well, I’m not as young as I used to be, but I won’t complain. I still sit at my workbench every day (although I never use the flame these days, I am working with a soldering torch instead). If only you could see the pictures that I finished yesterday! The rich glowing colors, the light that comes from the glass itself! I know it’s not considered appropriate for an artist to praise her own work but my series In Vigneto is really the best thing that I have ever done. In fact I had planned to give the pieces to Franco for Christmas, but I simply didn’t have time to finish them. When I showed them to him yesterday, he was so touched that tears came to his eyes—my inspiration for the pictures came from the vineyards that he loves so much. He wants to hang them on the window in the office. Perhaps it would be a good idea to take advantage of his good mood and tell him of my latest plans . . . I have already written to you about how I want to open a little gallery this summer, but my new idea is to invite Sherlain and Pandora to the opening so that we can unite poetry, dance, and glass, so to speak. I am looking forward to hearing what Franco says about that.
I have written till my fingers ache, so I will finish here and go and find my darling husband now, even though the office is at the other end of the palazzo. If only the hallways in this place were not so long!