“One thousand items.”
Ruth whistled softly. “That’s quite a number! When would they have to be ready?” She held her breath. Would he come to Sonneberg to collect this order as well?
“By the end of November. The shipment will be traveling on one of the slower freighters, so the crossing will last four whole weeks. The hearts would arrive in New York at the beginning of January.”
“That’s hardly seven weeks away,” Ruth said, biting her lip. Did that mean that Steven would be in Hamburg all that time?
“I’m afraid I can’t extend the deadline. The hearts have to be in every Woolworth branch in America before the fourteenth of February. That’s when Americans celebrate Saint Valentine’s Day, the patron saint of lovers. Everybody who’s in love buys a little present for their beloved, like this heart here, for instance. We put out special tables full of merchandise in all the stores for the occasion.”
“What a lovely custom! Women who get a heart like this as a present could wear it on a velvet ribbon round their neck. Or hang it in the window on a thread, so that they think of their sweetheart whenever they look out the window.” How Ruth would have loved to be one of those women. But before she could let herself feel saddened by that thought, she began to do the arithmetic.
“If we buy the glass stock straightaway and then make one hundred fifty pieces a week . . .” Why was she even bothering to calculate it, since she had no choice but to take on the order? She looked up and held out her hand to Steven. “It’s a deal! Mr. Woolworth will have his hearts by the end of November.”
Steven took her hand. But instead of shaking on the deal, he kissed it.
“Ruth.”
He spoke her name as an endearment, dark and soft. Her fingers tingled. His lips were so warm on her flesh, his moustache tickled . . .
“If you will allow it, I will give you not just a heart of glass but a heart that beats wildly at the thought of you.”
“Steven, please don’t say these things,” Ruth whispered, gently withdrawing her hand. She was in agony. “I thought of you every day, I dreamed of you every night,” she confessed miserably. “You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say such a thing, even though I know it’s wrong. To know that you feel as I do, to know that it was more than just business for you when we met . . .” She stopped uncertainly. Was she making a fool of herself with this confession?
“But that’s not all.” She looked down at the floor. She could not look him in the eye and say what had to be said. “I wanted to hear those words so much, but they hurt me like red-hot needles. Because they promise me something that can never be.” She stood up before Steven could help her to her feet. It hurt so much! “I have to go now. If I don’t hurry, I’ll miss the last train home.”
26
Steven hastily paid for their drinks and hurried out after Ruth. He caught up with her in front of the café and insisted on going with her to the station.
Ruth wanted to sit down somewhere and burst into tears. The bag holding the money hung casually from her right arm, and she didn’t even consider the possibility of purse snatchers. All she wanted to do was get away from the pain of meeting Steven. What had she really hoped would happen today? She was too exhausted to answer her own question.
“Stop, Ruth! I beg you!”
He was just as miserable as she was. All his confidence seemed to have deserted him, and the pain in her heart only deepened when she saw his shoulders drooping. Ruth walked on and Steven marched silently beside her. Their hands touched again and again. It was terrible and beautiful all at once.
The railway station was only two blocks away. Ruth took a deep breath, mustering her strength.
Only one more street and then two last turns. Ruth’s heart was beating so loudly that it hammered in her ears.
Dear God, help me to do the right thing.
They walked together toward the great wrought-iron gate of the station. Ruth stopped.
“I can’t.”
She turned to him. “I can’t just leave you like this.”
The next moment she was clinging to his chest.
“Steven!”
“Ruth,” he answered hoarsely and took her in his arms.
A few minutes later, they were running through the streets hand in hand as though the devil himself were at their heels, while the townspeople looked on in astonishment. Ruth suppressed the waves of shame and doubt and the pangs of guilt that threatened to overwhelm her. She even ignored the knowing look that the doorman at the Swan Hotel gave them. She had made her decision; she would be with Steven.
It was like putting down a heavy load. The clothes she wore were like chains that she could not remove fast enough. She undressed without shame, her movements sure. She did not have to look down at her bodice as she unhooked it. Nor could she have even if she had needed to. She only had eyes for Steven.