The Glassblower(129)

Ruth hugged Marie. “You see, we really did it. The Steinmann girls will show the world what we’re made of.”

Marie hugged her back. “Have a nice time in Sonneberg.”

At last the wagon lurched into motion, its wheels creaking. Wanda began to cry. Johanna rocked the pram from side to side without taking her eyes off the wagon. Peter came to join her, and she did not protest when he put his arm around her shoulders.

Marie stood a little off to one side. The time had come. Thousands upon thousands of silvered pinecones, nuts, painted globes, and mirrored globes were setting off on their long journey to America. Everything that had been at the very center of her existence for the past few months was now gone forever, vanished from her life. She had wanted to go with the cargo as far as Sonneberg, but Ruth wouldn’t hear of it and had insisted quite vehemently on going on her own. They had almost had another row over it. But then Johanna had taken Marie aside and told her in a few carefully chosen words what was on Ruth’s mind.

“Let her meet this Steven one more time. Perhaps she’ll realize then that she’s just chasing rainbows. We can stay home with Peter and enjoy our day off,” she added. But Marie waved the offer away. If she wasn’t going to go to Sonneberg, then she just wanted some peace and quiet.

“It’s an odd feeling—to know that the whole hustle and bustle is over, just like that,” Johanna said, smiling.

Peter sighed. “That’s just like you. Instead of celebrating, you stand out here feeling gloomy,” he said, grinning reproachfully. “I think you should come over to my place. Or had you forgotten your promise that you would come and help me for a change?”

Before Johanna could say a word, he had taken hold of Wanda’s pram and was pushing it toward his house. “What is it, are you planning to put down roots?” he called over his shoulder to Johanna, without turning round.

Johanna looked at Marie.

Marie nodded encouragingly to her sister. That left her and Magnus. He looked down and dug into the hard earth with the toe of his right shoe.

Marie shivered. She had forgotten to put on a jacket that morning in all the excitement, and the first frosts had begun a few days ago. It wouldn’t be long now before the trees shed their colorful leaves. Unlike most people, Marie was looking forward to seeing the trees and branches bare. When their silhouettes showed sharp against the pale winter light, there was nothing to distract her from the fine filigree patterns the branches made.

She hugged herself tight. “What do you think—could there be a way to capture the seasons of the year on Christmas baubles?”

“All four seasons, on a ball?” Magnus was taken aback.

“A set of four globes, one for every season.” Even as she spoke the globes began to take shape in Marie’s mind. She would paint the globe for spring with yellow primroses. Summer—perhaps that could be a sun? No, because then there would be two globes painted yellow. So spring would have to be lily of the valley instead. Fall would be colorful leaves of course, in every shade of the forest. As for winter—well, that was obvious enough.

“Why didn’t I think of it before?” She was so angry she stamped her foot.

“What’s the problem?” Magnus asked. “Just paint that design for the next order.”

“If there is one! We still don’t know for sure whether anyone in America wants to buy them.”

“You talk almost as much doom and gloom as my mother. I wouldn’t have expected it of an artist like you.”

Marie blushed. To change the subject, she asked, “How is Griseldis? I would have thought she’d move heaven and earth to be here with us this morning. I mean, since you both gave up all your evenings the last few weeks to help us out.”

Magnus made a wry face. “Old Heimer has more work for her. He’s insisted that she spend today cleaning the warehouse, because there are fresh supplies arriving early Monday morning.”

“Today? On a Saturday?”

He nodded sourly. “I wish she at least got another mark in wages for all the extra work she puts in. But the old fellow just works her fingers to the bone.”

“Do you mean to say she doesn’t even get paid for the extra hours?” Marie frowned. Griseldis was always the last to leave the Heimer workshop in the evening. Ever since Edeltraud had died, hardly a day passed when Wilhelm Heimer didn’t find some extra job for her. For some reason, he never asked that of Marie, or Sarah-the-snail.

Magnus laughed bitterly. “That’s just what I mean to say. And even so, my mother feels she ought to get down on her knees and thank the old tyrant every day for letting her work for him.”