The Glassblower(52)

Inspired by her experiences as a customer, she began to develop her own way of dealing personally with Strobel’s clients. She greeted them with a self-assurance she had never shown before, recommending a purchase or pointing out its drawbacks, praising their decisions or occasionally even voicing criticism. The right words seemed to come easily to her tongue. More and more often, a customer with questions turned not to Strobel but directly to his assistant, who wasn’t just good-looking but also showed a good grasp of what would sell. And more and more often, Johanna’s suggestions ended up on their orders.

This growing self-confidence showed in her appearance as well. As she was treating herself to a violet-scented hair powder, the lady in the shop suggested that she might try parting her hair rather than scraping it back into a bun. Well, why not try something new for once, Johanna decided. She hadn’t realized that the new style would better emphasize her even features. And when she chose a small rhinestone clasp, it was not because she had consciously thought about how it would offset the shine in her hair but simply because she liked it. She bought one for Ruth and one for Marie as well.

On another occasion she noticed that most of the skirts in the shopwindows no longer had crinolines. They still used yards and yards of material, but they were pinned and gathered up into artfully draped styles. She also noticed that the new dresses had more modest necklines. They were made with finer fabrics, designed to emphasize a lady’s silhouette rather than show her skin. Johanna tried to copy the new fashion by pinning a swath of silk inside the neckline of her old dress and pinning its skirt in closer as well. Even if it was a clumsy piece of sewing, she had turned it into something she could wear for a while longer. For the first time in her life Johanna was paying attention to her looks. Her natural grace blossomed into an elegant simplicity that would be her trademark style from then on. But she was far too modest even to realize what had happened.

There were others, however, who watched Johanna’s transformation with sharp eyes. Ruth and Marie noticed every new hairstyle and accessory. But it wasn’t envy that made them tease their sister and sometimes even make cutting remarks—far from it. Rather it was a deep though unconscious fear that, having already lost their parents, they might now lose Johanna as well.

Even Peter found it harder each week to recognize the Johanna he had grown up with behind this new and elegant façade. He felt that she drifted further away from him with every scrap of fine clothing she put on. For the first time in his life, his steadfast belief that he and Johanna were meant for one another began to waver.



Strobel congratulated himself on every sign of progress he saw in his assistant, for he did not miss the slightest change in her either. Friedhelm Strobel was in a springtime mood and decided to see her as a butterfly that must first spin a cocoon before revealing itself in its true splendor. Any interruption to the process would be dangerous for the butterfly, which would need large wings to be able to soar high above the humdrum world. In short: it needed time to grow.

And so Strobel waited for his moment. Waited, and watched. In the meantime the letters flew back and forth between Sonneberg and B.





26

The winter had overstayed its welcome like an ill-mannered guest, but in the third week of April it finally said good-bye. Bushels of yellow cowslips and blue squill blooming among the old grass heralded the coming spring, and virgin green buds were on the verge of bursting into leaf on every branch and treetop. Lovesick tomcats crept through the alleyways, keeping the good folk of Sonneberg awake at night with their serenades. Spring was on its way and Nature almost outdid herself in preparing the world for its arrival. It was simply inevitable that this unrest would spread to humanity as well.



Though it was warm enough now to walk through the village without a jacket by day, it was still cold after the sun went down. And so—for want of any better place—Ruth and Thomas continued to meet in old Heimer’s warehouse.

Ruth ran her tongue quickly over her teeth to be quite sure that she didn’t have a breadcrumb still lurking there from supper. Then she began to nibble gently on Thomas’s lip. She didn’t know where she had gotten the idea; she was simply doing what felt right. She nipped at his upper lip. Then sank her teeth more firmly into his lower lip. The skin at the corners of his mouth was dry, almost cracked. Spontaneously, she ran her tongue over it and Thomas moaned. His desire was overwhelming. A glow of pleasure spread through Ruth’s belly. She could have kept up with these games forever . . . unlike Thomas.

He pulled her head toward his quite suddenly. “Now we’ll kiss for real,” he whispered hoarsely.