“What if Heimer had said a thing like that? You would have spat fire at him,” Ruth said from where she stood by the stove.
“That’s different,” Johanna said indignantly. “Strobel was quite right to scold her. After all, it’s not as though I could take care of lunch.”
“And would that really be so bad?” Ruth replied. “Are you too fine for that sort of thing now?”
“Nonsense! It’s just . . . that isn’t part of my job!”
“And what is your job exactly?” Ruth asked, standing on tiptoe as she moved around the oven. “Doing the chores, my goodness no!” Then she turned to Johanna and went on. “I’ve had to give old Edel a hand in the kitchen from time to time. I didn’t think that was beneath me.”
Marie looked up. “But if I remember right, you wouldn’t say a word to Thomas the next day because he hadn’t sprung to your defense about doing the kitchen work.”
“That was for other reasons,” Ruth spat out, her chin held high.
Johanna was too tired to carry on the argument, so she turned to Marie. “What are you drawing these days?” she asked.
“It’s a design for a decorated vase,” Marie replied. “Heimer said this week that we have to change with the times. And the taste these days is for glass that’s painted like porcelain.”
“So it is,” Johanna said, relieved to have something she could agree with her sister about. “Though Heimer’s wrong if he thinks that he’s ahead of the times. Strobel says that frosted glass is old hat by now. Apparently the glassblowers were making it a hundred years ago—can you believe it? So Strobel says that it’s more of a renaissance.”
Marie looked blank, and Johanna realized that the word meant nothing to her. Hastily she kept on talking, trying not to sound like a know-it-all. “At any rate, painted glass is very much in fashion. Especially hunting scenes but anything with human figures as well. Sometimes I’m amazed what people spend their hard-earned money on. And I wonder where in the world all the glassware from Lauscha really ends up.” She laughed.
“Let’s have a look!” she said, moving Marie’s arm aside to get a good look at the drawing. Two doves sat on a branch, their beaks together; beneath them was a curving, twining frame around the word “Inseparable.”
“That’s really lovely,” Johanna said, impressed. “They look just like real doves!”
Ruth put down the teapot and sat down at the table.
“It’s certainly a lovely design. But Madame isn’t considering how hard it will be to paint these fine lines onto glass,” Ruth said, pointing to the feathers.
Marie let the criticism bounce off her. “Maybe you’ll be doing the silvering or the packing when we get round to making these vases.”
“Oh, and wouldn’t it suit you perfectly if you were the only one who ever got to paint.”
Listening to the good-natured squabbling of the other two, Johanna suddenly felt strangely excluded.
“Thomas invited me to the May dance next week,” Ruth suddenly burst out. Her cheeks flushed as she scooted closer to Johanna. “Just think, we spinsters are finally going to get to see the May dancing! And that’s not all. There’s some other news as well—” She stopped abruptly, as though having second thoughts. “Oh, I’m so excited I can hardly sleep at night!”
Johanna raised her eyebrows. “It can’t be all that exciting. And you?” she asked, turning to Marie. “Are you going to the dance as well?” She quietly congratulated herself on having bought new blouses for her sisters. They would be just right for the occasion.
“Of course she’s coming,” Ruth answered. “All three of us must go.” She looked at the door. “I was expecting Peter to stop in. He . . .” She bit her lip. “I don’t know whether I’m supposed to say, but he wants to invite you to the dance. He even asked me what kind of flowers you like.” She giggled. “I can hardly wait to see what bouquet Thomas will give me!”
Marie smiled and gave Ruth a nudge. “As if it’s the flowers you care about!”
Johanna looked from one to the other. Something was going on. What were these two making such a big secret of?
“I’m sorry to say that you mustn’t depend on me to come to the May dance.” When she saw her sisters’ smiles freeze on their lips, she went on to explain about the American businessman, Woolworth, and the importance of his visit.
“I really am very sorry,” she repeated, though in truth, she didn’t feel she’d miss very much. Of course the May dance would be a fine opportunity to show off her new dress and let Wilhelm Heimer know that she was getting on very well without him. But annoyed as she was with Peter, she didn’t want him asking her to the dance. Besides, this was the first time that Strobel had asked her to do anything out of the ordinary, and she was glad of the chance to repay some of his generosity.