The Glassblower(22)

“I didn’t notice. What I did notice though was the way the work piled up on your table,” Johanna answered dryly. “If you really want my advice, forget about Thomas for the time being. After all, if old Heimer isn’t happy with our work . . .” She let the rest of the sentence speak for itself.

“I don’t plan to fling myself at him, if that’s what you mean,” Ruth said pointedly. She sighed. “With all the work we have, there’s hardly time for a few words. I tell you, I broke a sweat this morning at the packing table! Not everyone’s lucky enough to be put to work painting flowers.”

Marie didn’t react. It was as though she hadn’t even heard what Ruth had said. She hadn’t even taken a bite of bread, but was sketching patterns in her meat loaf with the point of her knife.

Johanna elbowed her. “You’re sitting there staring into space as though you’ve had a vision of the Virgin Mary! What’s wrong with you? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for Michel!”

“What nonsense! Nothing’s wrong with me!” Marie replied, picking up her bread and lifting it to her mouth. But then she paused before taking a bite, and her eyes lit up.

“I’ve been thinking about something. If we were to paint the plants twining up the length of the vase rather than round and round, they would look so different . . .”

The other two stared at her, and Ruth rolled her eyes. “Our princess is dreaming again.”

“Is it any wonder?” Johanna said. “If I spent the whole day sitting next to such a chatterbox, I would daydream as well just to get away. That Eva could talk your ears off!”

Ruth leaned forward over the table. “You know, I’m surprised Sebastian married her, given that she’s all the way from Steinach. And the old man’s so fond of her!”

“You’re right!” Johanna chimed in. “He values the glassblowing trade so highly, you’d think he’d rather have someone from the village in his house. What’s that saying? Marry a glassblower’s daughter and your cup will never run dry.”

They laughed.

“It hasn’t happened yet, but it could!” Ruth remarked airily, winking at Johanna as she did so.



After they had eaten, nobody felt like doing the dishes or getting breakfast ready for the next morning or fetching the wood. They decided to go to bed so they would be well rested for the next day. But sleep wouldn’t come. Each of them had too much to think about.

“That Sarah hardly seems like a fast worker,” Johanna said suddenly. “Whenever I looked over at the two of you, you were the only one doing any work.”

“You can say that again!” Ruth sat up in bed. “Father would have had some words for her; she’s slow as a snail.”

Johanna snorted. “Well said! She even looks a bit like a snail.”

“She guzzled down the beer,” Marie said, shuddering. “Nasty bitter stuff! I’ll ask for some water tomorrow.”

“So will I,” Johanna agreed. “I was surprised that the men could sit down and work at their lamps with a steady hand after drinking all that beer at lunch. But the women were drinking just as much. It was very odd, don’t you think, Ruth?”

“Who cares?” Ruth grumbled. She simply wanted to lay back down in the dark and think about Thomas.

Johanna sighed. “You’re right! It’s no business of ours how much the Heimers drink—our business is in their workshop. But they have a funny way of running the place. If the old fellow hadn’t decided halfway through the morning that we should stop the silvering and start snipping the tinsel wire, Widow Grün and I would have gotten a lot more work done.”

“What’s the wire for, even?” Marie asked.

Johanna shrugged in the dark.

“It’s for decorating something, but we never found out what. Once we were done snipping it into pieces we had to go help with the packing, and after that it was time to leave.” She thought for a moment. “It really is very odd. Heimer spends all day running around the workshop checking up on this and that, but he causes such a commotion when he does so. He really puts the cat among the pigeons.”

When there was no answer from Ruth, Johanna rolled over.

“Well, we Steinmanns put in a good day’s work on our first day,” she mumbled, and then she fell asleep.





11

Marie painted in her dreams all night, and when she woke up the next morning, she could hardly wait to get back to work. She was all the more disappointed, then, when Wilhelm Heimer put her to work with Sarah decorating perfume bottles.

She cast an envious glance at Ruth, who was sitting next to Eva today. She probably didn’t know how lucky she was! In front of Marie were thick bundles of glittering wire, the tinsel that Johanna and the Widow Grün had cut into lengths yesterday. Reluctantly she picked up a bundle. Upon closer inspection, she had to admit that the curly, shimmering wire had its own particular charm; its warm golden tint glowed or faded, depending on how the light fell on it. The perfume flasks themselves were pretty as well. They were the same shape as the ones that Father had blown for the French consignment, but they were all made of colored glass—violet, blue, and green—from the stock that Heimer had from the glass foundry. Marie had never seen this shade of violet before. The gloomy cloud that hovered over her head lifted a little. This part of the job could never give her the same pleasure as painting with those lovely colors, but decorating work had a certain appeal.