The Glassblower(121)

Her sisters! The Steinmann girls.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to lie down again,” Johanna assured them as she reached for her clothes. “If we women are going to rule the roost again, then I can’t just laze around on a feather bed!”

Ruth and Marie sighed with relief. Loudly.



Peter came by a little while later. Marie had already told him what was afoot the evening before, and when he saw Johanna sitting downstairs in the kitchen, he knew that Ruth had succeeded.

While Johanna bustled about getting supper ready, Ruth told the whole story, starting from the moment the photographer blurted out which hotel the American was staying in. They all listened, astonished and openmouthed, as Ruth explained how she had gotten the chambermaid to help her sneak into Woolworth’s room. The bread and cheese sat on the table untouched. Who could even think of eating at a time like this? As Ruth recounted how Woolworth had picked up one bauble after another and looked at each in turn, Marie hung upon her every word.

“He was really impressed,” Ruth told her sister.

Johanna reached for the contract. She read it through several times, then looked up, frowning. The others didn’t fail to notice the question in her eyes.

“Look at that, it didn’t take her long to find fault,” Ruth remarked pointedly to Marie. Then she turned to Johanna and asked, “May we know just what displeases you here?”

“Nothing at all, nothing! It’s all just as it should be,” Johanna said, raising her hands appeasingly. “The delivery date will be tight, but there’s nothing we can do about that. And the price is fine. And it was very clever of you to make sure that we only have to deliver as far as Sonneberg.”

Ruth relaxed a little. “But?” she asked nevertheless, still apprehensive.

Johanna smiled helplessly. “I’m just wondering where we’re going to get the money for so much glass stock and all the packing and gas if he isn’t paying us an advance.”



There were a thousand and one questions to consider that evening, some of which they could answer themselves, some of which they left to Peter. Anything that couldn’t be settled straightaway was left for later.

It was already dark outside, with a strong wind rattling the windows by the time they finally had a plan.

The three sisters gratefully accepted Peter’s offer to lend them the money they would need for materials. They were mighty surprised all the same that he had so much in savings.

Peter also offered to buy the glass stock for them from the foundry. When he suggested he could help blow the baubles as well, Marie turned him down in no uncertain terms. It was a matter of honor for her that she do it on her own. She was well used to sitting up at the lamp until late at night and had no doubts that she could manage the order. It would be a lot of hard work, but she didn’t mind that. Ruth and Johanna would use Marie’s samples as models to paint the globes and the other designs in the daylight hours before packing them up in the evenings. Marie didn’t want to give up working for Wilhelm Heimer—best not to burn her bridges quite yet.

Although the sisters argued that they should keep their plans quiet for the time being, Peter said that it was probably impossible. The master glassmakers down at the foundry would wonder why he suddenly needed hundreds and hundreds of rods. And Fritz the crate-maker would ask the same question when Johanna went to order the packing materials.

Peter looked around the table at each of the women in turn. “Why keep it a secret? You should be proud of getting this order!”

Marie looked at him in an agony of embarrassment.

“Yes, of course. But what do you think the men will say when they find out . . .” She paused and made a wry face, but a moment later, she smiled. “Peter’s right in fact; it’s too late to get cold feet now!”

Johanna nodded. “Lauscha will just have to get used to the fact that we have our own roost to rule. There’s always going to be someone who grumbles. And some who resent what we’re doing. But we mustn’t be discouraged,” Johanna said, looking at Ruth. “Aren’t you listening?”

Ruth sat up straight with a start. “I . . . sorry, what were you saying?”

Johanna smiled as she shook her head.

“I suppose you were still thinking of Sonneberg.”

Ruth looked thoughtfully out the window, at the wind driving the rain against the pane.

“You have no idea how right you are.”





20

Now that Johanna had snapped out of her trance, she took charge of everything much as before. Neither Marie nor Ruth had any objection when she went to Fritz the crate-maker and bargained with him on the price of the packing material. She also insisted on going into Sonneberg to buy the white enamel paint, tinsel wire, and other supplies they would need to realize Marie’s designs. She even set out to organize the glassblowing itself.