The Glassblower(36)

The impulse to shove all the beads off the workbench with one sweep of her hand was so strong that Johanna stood up. Confound it all, she didn’t want to spend another moment thinking about the Christmas that lay ahead.



Unlike Johanna, Ruth was always able to find some room for optimism. Thomas had hinted that he had a present for her. And so Ruth spent most of her time thinking about what it could be. She wouldn’t say no to a bead necklace, even if Johanna thought that they were tawdry old things. But she would quite like one of those perfume bottles that they had spent the last few days packing away by the hundreds . . . though she had no idea what she would put in it.

The very best present Thomas could give her would be to propose, but Ruth was realistic enough not to hope for too much. Even at this busy time of year Thomas begged and pleaded to meet her in the warehouse as often as possible, and when they did meet he was never short of compliments and declarations of love. He was always telling her how beautiful her body was, her hair, her skin—everything. In front of the others, however, he acted as though he had no feelings at all for her. If she tried to take his hand over the table at lunch, he pulled it back. And he’d never taken her out, not even to the Black Eagle, much less Sonneberg. Ruth didn’t budge an inch: as long as Thomas insisted on hiding the fact that they were in love, she wouldn’t let him under her skirts. He got angry about that every time they met, and she could partly understand his frustrations. She liked it too, to feel his hands on her, to hear his breath come faster. Kissing and petting was much better than the awkward silences that fell whenever they tried to have a conversation. “We’ve got all day to gab at one another,” he said dismissively if she tried to tell him what was on her mind.

Maybe it was time to take the next step? Wouldn’t Thomas be surprised if she suddenly stopped putting up a fight? Or perhaps she could think of a Christmas present she could give him instead? But how was that supposed to work, when she didn’t have a penny to call her own?





17

Two days before Christmas Eve, Wilhelm Heimer beckoned Ruth over to him. Eva watched suspiciously as Ruth followed him up to the family’s front parlor on the second floor, which they kept for special occasions.

Heimer shut the door behind them. Because the room was hardly ever used, it smelled heavily of dust. Ruth sneezed.

“I need you to do me a favor, but I’ll pay you just as if you were still at work,” Heimer said, wheezing a little from the exertion of climbing the stairs.

Ruth felt flattered and waved away his offer. “Of course I’ll help you!” Maybe it meant something that he had chosen her, in particular, to lend him a hand.

Heimer pointed to the table behind him. “These presents are for Evie and a few of the others. Now that there’s a woman in the household again I want Christmas to be really special. Like it was when my wife was still alive, God rest her soul. But I can’t let Evie wrap her own presents.” He pointed to a few sheets of wine-red paper printed with golden angels. “I didn’t skimp. It was the most expensive wrapping paper I could find.”

Ruth nodded, keeping her face neutral. Heimer certainly shouldn’t see her eyes pop out at the sight of such extravagance. She stole a glance at the table. There was a round case of some kind, a woolen garment, and a few little bottles. She looked at Heimer. “You’ve even bought name tags and gold ribbon!” She couldn’t entirely conceal her surprise. She never would have expected him to go for such luxuries.

Heimer beamed. “Only the best for Evie!” He told Ruth to put the presents on the dresser once she had wrapped them, and then he trotted back downstairs.

Evie, Evie, all day long! Ruth rolled her eyes. All the same, she couldn’t wait to see what Heimer had bought his daughter-in-law.

As soon as she was alone, she rushed over to the table. A powder compact! Decorated with red and gold roses and—Ruth fiddled with the catch until the case opened—a mirror inside the lid. Ruth gazed at her reflection and pretended she was powdering her face. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the powder settling on her skin like silk.

The garment was a knitted jacket in hunter green. Ruth grinned. Eva would look as pale as a milkmaid wearing that. But she sighed when she saw the next gift: a piece close to six feet long of the finest Plauen lace. Ruth ran her fingers along the stiff edges of the lace, estimating enviously as she felt the quality of the handiwork. It would be enough to edge a blouse and then some—enough for one bodice at least, maybe two. A lump formed in her throat. All for Eva. It was so unfair. Ruth pushed aside the cardboard box that held the lace. When she saw that there were no more presents with Eva’s name on the tag, she was almost relieved. She picked up one of the little bottles. Aha, a liqueur for old Edeltraud. Not that she’d be able to pour herself more than two glasses. How stingy he was! Ruth put the bottle aside and picked up the next. Another liqueur, this time with Sarah’s name on the tag. So at least there was something for the hired hands. She picked up the third. This one was for Griseldis. Ruth looked up and down the table but saw no presents for Thomas and his brothers, nor for herself and her sisters. She tried not to be too disappointed. It could only mean one of two things, she thought as she wrapped the lace in the wine-red paper: either Wilhelm Heimer had some special gifts for his sons and Joost’s daughters, or . . . they would get no presents at all. But surely that wouldn’t be the case, Ruth told herself as she smoothed the paper flat.