The Glassblower(128)

“I’m glad we’re agreed on that much at least,” Johanna said dryly.

“If Steven weren’t coming to Sonneberg, I would go to Hamburg to be with him!”

“You in Hamburg? Don’t make me laugh! You have to pluck up your nerve just to go as far as Sonneberg.” Johanna scoffed.

“You’re horrid! You’re just like Marie; she doesn’t want me to be happy either.” For a moment it looked as though Ruth might burst into tears again, but then she shook her head. “Perhaps that’s the only way you know how to talk. Because neither of you knows what true love is like.” She shut her eyes. “True love is much stronger than us mortals. It stops us from being scared of what tomorrow may bring.”

Romantic twaddle! Ruth had obviously spent far too much time reading the Arbor. Johanna had no desire to continue the conversation, so she shoved her chair back and stood up. It was already late.

It was cold in the kitchen, and the house still stank of Epsom salts. She would have to go to Peter tomorrow and confess that they had no hope of filling the order without his help. Perhaps she would also have to have a good long talk with their resident artist to make her sit back down at the lamp. The last thing Johanna needed just then was to watch Ruth fluttering her eyelids and listen to her soppy talk.

Though Johanna was bone tired, she knew that she wouldn’t get to sleep easily—not after Ruth’s news.





23

At eight o’clock sharp on the morning of September 29, two draft horses pulling a wagon stopped outside the Steinmann house, snorting and shaking their manes. They belonged to a farmer from a nearby village who made a little extra money carrying cargo for the glassmakers of Lauscha. He looked around dubiously as he opened the tailboard for loading. He had never picked up anything from here before. But if he had any doubts as to whether it was the right place, they were answered the very next moment when the three sisters came out of the house, each balancing a stack of cardboard boxes in their arms. Peter and Magnus both insisted on being allowed to help load the wagon, so the farmer stood aside and watched, filling his pipe as they worked.

More and more boxes vanished into the belly of the wagon. By the time the last box had been loaded, the cargo was piled up almost six feet high. The young women watched hawkeyed as the farmer and Magnus lashed down the boxes with rope. At last everything was safely stowed.

“Done!” Johanna heaved a loud sigh. “We’ll be able to move around the house again without glass chiming at every step.”

“It looks like any old shipment of ordinary glassware, doesn’t it?” Somehow Marie still couldn’t believe that this huge mound of buff-colored boxes had actually been packed in their house.

“Very true. From the outside, there’s nothing to suggest all the glitter and sparkle inside,” Johanna replied.

Ruth, who had been staring into the dusty kitchen window, turned around.

“It’s just as well. No one needs to know what we’re transporting here. We’d just end up getting robbed on the road,” she muttered, then turned again and looked at her dim reflection. She sighed fretfully as she tugged a lock of hair back into place, tucked another behind her ear and ran her finger along her eyebrows.

Johanna and Marie exchanged knowing glances. Ruth had spent more time in front of the mirror that morning than anywhere else. Even Wanda had been left to her own devices for once, lying in her pram and grumbling away.

“You take good care of the papers, now,” Johanna told Ruth, not for the first time that day. “The lists give all the details they’ll need on how many of each design are in the delivery. The authorities in Hamburg won’t be able to draw up export papers if they don’t have the right information. Once when I was working for Strobel, we—”

“Johanna, I know all that. You take good care of Wanda for me,” Ruth said, her eyes shining like well-polished slate. “Don’t worry. I know what I have to do.”

Johanna snorted. “I’m not so sure about that,” she said, then added softly, “Just don’t go doing anything foolish when you and Steven . . .”

“Johanna, please don’t start that again,” Ruth murmured. She turned abruptly and blew a kiss at her daughter, who was watching the scene with a look of skepticism on her face. “Until tonight, little Wanda! If you’re good, Mama will bring you back a present.”

She was halfway up to the wagon seat when she suddenly climbed back down.

“What’s the trouble now? Women!” the farmer grumbled. He had a whole day’s work on the farm waiting for him when he got back from Sonneberg.