The Glassblower(116)

Steven nodded absentmindedly as he ran his pen down the page to the next line.

“We usually ask wholesalers to deliver to the harbor in Hamburg. However, in your case I suggest that Mr. Woolworth and I take responsibility for transport from Sonneberg to Hamburg. This will affect the price we pay you, of course.”

Ruth bit her lip. “Of course. That goes without saying.” In fact she didn’t even know how she was going to get six thousand baubles as far as Sonneberg, but she would be hanged if she had to arrange transport all the way across Germany. Wouldn’t Johanna be surprised when she saw that Ruth really had thought of all the details?

“Delivery would be no later than the thirtieth of September. That’s the date by which all the globes have to be in Sonneberg, ready and waiting to be transported onward. If they’re not, then the wares won’t get to us in time for the Christmas sales.” His gaze was level and businesslike now; it was as though they had never even mentioned personal matters. “You realize that would make the whole shipment worthless, of course?”

Ruth nodded uneasily. Six weeks? Could they manage that? How many nights were there in six weeks? And how many globes could Marie blow in a night? While Ruth’s brain was spinning, Steven went on. “The last possible loading date for cargo from Hamburg to New York is the second of October. Then we have to add another six weeks for delivery and distribution in America, which means that Christmas tree decorations will reach the shops in mid-November.”

Ruth sighed. “Christmas in New York. And Marie’s baubles, right there in the middle of it all. I can hardly even imagine it.” New York. The name itself sent a frisson through her. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask him. About New York, about his employer and his family.

But Steven was not to be distracted. “You have to be able to imagine it. If there is one thing that Mr. Woolworth really can’t abide, it’s breach of contract. So please allow me to ask you one last question. An important question. Can you and your sisters really fulfill this order?”

There was a note of concern in his voice, but she couldn’t tell whether it was personal or simply professional. Ruth had to pull herself together to concentrate on his question. Her gaze was steady as she answered him.

“We can meet it and more. Our globes will be in Sonneberg, ready and waiting for collection on September thirtieth. Even if I have to sit down at the lamp and blow them myself!”

He smiled. “Would it be too much if I said that I expected nothing less of you?”

Ruth had the feeling that she was blossoming before his very eyes, like a flower that finally had water.

“Nonetheless, if there are any difficulties, then you can always try reaching me in the Hamburg office.”

“Hamburg? I thought you were from New York?” How far is it to Hamburg? Ruth wondered. Not as far as to New York, that much was certain.

“Mr. Woolworth wants to be quite sure that none of his Christmas wares get lost on the quayside in Hamburg and that they all end up on the right ship. Which means that I’m staying in Europe until everything’s loaded and under way,” Steven explained cheerfully.

They worked through all the other points fairly rapidly until they got to the issue that Ruth had racked her brains over even as she hatched her plan: the matter of payment.

“Before we start to talk figures, I want to make you the following offer,” Steven began. “We’ll pay you the same price we would pay a wholesaler for items of this kind. Less—let’s say—ten percent for the delivery costs to Hamburg, which we shall be taking over.” He looked at her questioningly.

Ruth’s first impulse was to nod in agreement. What he said made sense. But then she realized something; the wholesaler Steven was talking about could only be Friedhelm Strobel. And he sold the globes that Karl Flein blew. Wasn’t that what Johanna had said? Steven had already put pen to paper to fill in the blank when Ruth reached across the table and tapped him gently on the arm.

He looked up and clearly noticed her unhappy expression.

“I haven’t even named a price that you could quibble with!”

Ruth managed to smile. “I don’t wish to quibble. And I certainly don’t wish to be brazen. Heaven only knows, maybe I’m talking my way into trouble here. It’s just that . . .” Embarrassed, she tucked back a strand of hair, and a daisy she had missed earlier fell onto the table in front of her.

“What is it?” Steven asked, his eyebrows raised.

Ruth flicked the faded little flower across the tablecloth between finger and thumb. Well, no use dithering! She looked Steven in the eye. “Marie’s baubles are a lot prettier than any of the others you buy. Marie’s globes are painted, with whole winter landscapes. And many of them are silvered. That’s a lot of extra work, let me tell you. Then there are the baubles that she blows into forms that she cast specially. The nuts for instance. And the pinecones. And—”