The Glassblower(19)

Just then, a tall, fat woman appeared in the doorway. “Lunch is ready!” she called in a deep voice, then turned and stomped off.

Ruth had never been happier to go to lunch.



“Be our guest, and let this food to us be blessed.” Wilhelm Heimer looked around the table. “Starting today, there are going to be three more mouths to feed, but no one will have to go hungry. Old Edel has taken care of that, eh?” This was directed at Edeltraud, the housekeeper, who just nodded, a sour look on her face. “Right then, dig in and don’t hold back!”

The three sisters looked at one another. They didn’t dare to do as Heimer said. Were they really supposed to eat from the serving dish like pigs from a trough?

The deaf old housekeeper had brought in a great platter of food and set it in the middle of the table. Everyone had a spoon set in front of them, but there were no plates. There was nothing wrong with the meal as such, the potato salad looked tasty enough and there were plenty of spicy little sausages piled on top. Ruth tried to ignore the rumbling of her stomach. The others were already digging in, and she could even hear the sausages burst as teeth bit into them. Surely they weren’t going to put a sausage back into the dish with the end bitten off? Ruth wondered. Then she saw Michel, the youngest son, licking the grease off his fingers before reaching for the next sausage. Maybe she should just eat a slice of bread for the moment.

“What’s the matter? Shy? Don’t put on airs!” Wilhelm boomed, digging his elbow playfully into Johanna’s side.

Ruth watched as her sister reached her spoon daintily into the dish, took a little of the food, and lifted it to her mouth. She pulled herself together. It was going to be a long day, and she had to eat something after all. She picked up her spoon, wiped it inconspicuously to be sure it was clean, and helped herself from the dish. There was a clank of metal as her spoon hit another. Ruth looked up—straight into the green eyes of Thomas Heimer.

“Spooning already, are we?” he said, grinning, and grabbed her hand. “Or were you just trying to rap me over the knuckles?”

“I . . .” Ruth felt herself blushing furiously. She didn’t know what to say to a joke like that. Her hand burned as though she had held it in the fire.

“Don’t hold back if you’re hungry!” Thomas said, looking right at her. “We Heimers are used to taking what we want!” When he finally let go of her hand, it felt as though a thousand tiny ants were crawling over it.

There was laughter around the table. Ruth tried to smile as well, but her jaw muscles cramped. She peered around at the others, who were all busy eating or chatting or drinking down their beer, paying no attention to her. Though Thomas was shoveling food into his mouth, Ruth could feel him looking over at her from time to time. Slowly she raised her eyes, and met his gaze. She was right! All of a sudden a flock of birds seemed to flutter through her breast, beating their wings against her heart.

Her mouth was as dry as dust, and when she tried to lick her lips she found that her tongue almost stuck to them. Why did she suddenly feel that licking her lips was not a ladylike thing to do? She pulled herself together and put her spoon into the dish again, wondering as she did so whether she would be able to swallow even a morsel of potato.

Thomas was still watching her. “You learn fast, Ruth Steinmann,” he said with a grin.

Thomas Heimer!

She had already noticed him that morning. Unlike his brothers, who took after their father and were running a little to fat, Thomas was tall and rangy. He was also the only one who had opened his mouth to utter a greeting. He wasn’t like the rest of them, she had thought then. His smooth, healthy skin emphasized his even features and strong chin. And those eyes! She had never seen a man with dark-green eyes before.

She took a slice of bread and tore it in two, her fingers moist. Then she handed him half. As their eyes met again, sparks flew.

“Some things are easy to learn to like!” she said, wondering as she spoke whether that husky voice was really hers. She watched eagerly as he bit into the bread. Then she did the same, almost greedily.

Who would have thought that this new job would turn out to be so exciting!





9

As Marie dipped the brush into the pot—whose stained and smeared label bore the word “Ultramarine”—and pulled it back out again, the paint looked surprisingly lackluster, showing no sign yet of the depths of color that would emerge once she’d painted it onto the silvered vase. She began to trace the lines and curves around the lip of the vase the way Eva had showed her, her brush gliding easily along. She trailed the very tip of the brush across the smooth glass, as gentle as a breeze. This was nothing like the painting she had done for the pharmacy jars, which required writing out chemical names such as “Phenethyl Alcohol” or “Glycerin” or “Ether.” Father had always insisted that the letters had to be bolt upright, so Marie had doubted at first whether she would be able to master these curves and swirls. But she had no sooner taken the horsehair brush in hand and traced the first lines than her doubts vanished. She could do this!