The Glassblower(130)

Marie felt she had to say something in Griseldis’s defense.

“Your mother is a good soul, and she’s always ready to help. She helped us too. When I think of the way she came to our aid when Father died . . . Never mind these last few weeks!”

“But that was a matter of honor. Which is why my mother was so surprised when Johanna insisted on paying us for those few hours we put in. We can certainly use the money, but we would have helped you even without any pay.”

Magnus was at least as kindhearted as his mother, Marie realized. It was a touching thought.

“Without those ‘few hours’ as you call them, we would never have gotten the whole shipment finished.”

He waved her thanks away. “It’s damned cold for the end of September. We’ll have another hard winter ahead. What do you say—would you like a hot cup of tea? I could make us some, and Mother made an apple pie yesterday.”

Marie hesitated for no more than a moment. “Why not? Perhaps I’d better get used to the idea that I don’t have to work every waking moment from now on.”

They were already halfway to Griseldis’s house when Marie stopped in her tracks.

“What is it? Have you changed your mind?”

Marie bit her lip.

“Actually I’m still a bit upset that I didn’t go to Sonneberg. It would have been a good opportunity to take a stroll round town.”

“You mean stroll around town and spend some of your hard-earned money in the Sonneberg shops?” Magnus grinned.

Marie shook her head. “We haven’t been paid a penny yet. Though for what I have in mind, I would happily spend all my savings. Well, perhaps another time . . .” Her voice gave away nothing of the longing she felt.

Magnus hopped from one foot to the other. Without looking at Marie he finally asked, “If you really would like to go to Sonneberg—well then, why don’t we go? We could always walk if you don’t want to spend the money for a train ticket. And who knows? If we’re lucky, someone might stop and give us a ride some of the way.” Magnus grew more enthusiastic with every word.

Marie, however, was torn. Was Magnus the right person to help her do what she was planning?

“I don’t know. I would have to tell Johanna first. We had agreed that I would look after Wanda for half the day.”

“I’ll tell Johanna if you like. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you taking a little trip,” Magnus said. “Should I go talk to her?”

Marie took hold of his sleeve. “Hold on! There’s another thing: What if we happen to run into Ruth? She’ll end up thinking I don’t trust her to deliver the wares, and that would be very awkward.”

“Sonneberg’s not so small that you’re always bumping into people around every corner,” Magnus answered, sounding disappointed. “If you don’t want to go with me, let’s just forget it.”

“That’s not it,” Marie said hurriedly. She laughed, embarrassed. “But there’s one more thing . . . Just have a look at me . . . I can’t go into town like this.” She pointed at her legs.

One day she had started wearing Joost’s old pants around the house; they didn’t get in the way of the gas pipe the way her skirts always did. She soon realized that pants were fundamentally more practical than women’s clothing and that she could slip them on in seconds and then have time for more important things. Ruth and Johanna had almost screamed the house down when they saw her wearing Joost’s old rags, but Marie had nonetheless stuck to her new habit.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t have anything fit to wear,” she added.

Magnus crossed his arms. The corners of his mouth rose into a mocking grin.

“Marie Steinmann, can it be that you’ve lost your nerve?”





24

They had hardly been walking for half an hour when a wagon stopped and let them ride for a few pence. It was not even eleven o’clock when they arrived in Sonneberg. On the way there, Magnus had suggested all sorts of things they might do in town. When Marie finally mustered the courage to tell him what it was that she wanted to do, Magnus hadn’t even batted an eye.

And so they marched out of the marketplace and headed straight for a little side alley. Marie could already read the shop sign from a long way off. “Books Old and New,” it read, and underneath in smaller letters, “Books Bought and Sold, Alois Sawatzky.” Her heart pounded.

“What if he doesn’t have anything like what I’m looking for?” she whispered.

“We’ll soon find out.” Magnus put his hand on the handle and opened the door with a flourish. When the shop bell rang, Marie nearly jumped. Hesitantly, she followed Magnus inside.