There were eight waitresses at the reception to serve coffee and fancy cakes. The sweet treats were hardly finished before they brought out potato dumplings with a goulash of venison and wild boar, and both red and white cabbage. The beer flowed freely, and though red wine was also offered, only the Sonneberg businessmen drank it. Glassblowers were beer drinkers and always had been, and the bridegroom was among the staunchest upholders of this tradition—and, at least to start with, his bride watched indulgently. His friends followed his example faithfully, and the celebration grew louder and merrier as the hours went by.
But the food and drink, good though it was, was not the high point of the occasion. That was the table itself and the decorations; Marie had spent days wreathing box branches into lengths of tracery and adorning them with rosettes of gold paper that she had cut into delicate patterns. She wound one length around the chairs of the bride and groom, joining them together so that they looked like one royal throne. Another length was placed around the tables that bore the wedding gifts.
And there were plenty of gifts: the glassblowers gave them all kinds of glassware of course—from drinking glasses, dishes, and plates to perfume bottles, vases, and little lidded pots. Swiss Karl had given the couple a whole bouquet of glass roses blown from the orange and red rods in his stock, complete with green leaves and thorns along the stem. The whole piece was so lifelike that Edeltraud came hurrying up with a vase full of water for the roses. When the guests standing around noticed her mistake, they laughed until their sides ached.
Thomas’s brothers gave the couple two goose-feather quilts and pillows, which they handed over with much ado and several off-color remarks. The gifts from the Sonneberg wholesalers included a two-way mirror, a five-armed porcelain candelabrum, and a set of silver flatware for fish. Johanna got the impression that all of Heimer’s business partners were trying to outdo one another with their gifts. She found herself thinking ungraciously that the newlyweds might have liked some more practical presents for day-to-day use, perhaps some cooking pots.
Ruth received all the gifts with a dignity befitting a queen. Having always dreamed of having some luxury in her life, she was visibly overjoyed by all the expensive, unusual presents. And she was equally effusive in thanking the guests who brought only a few towels or a single glass dish, like Widow Grün. All day long Ruth had a kind word for everybody, tirelessly shaking hands and receiving their congratulations.
“If only Father could see her now,” Johanna said quietly.
Marie nodded. “Somehow I feel that he’s here anyway,” she confessed. “I have to stop myself from looking up to heaven all the time.”
“You too?” Johanna and Marie traded awkward smiles. Then Johanna sighed. “But I don’t like the thought that you’ll be living on your own from now on.”
“Well, look who’s talking! Who’s been living with a strange man for more than six months now?” Marie countered, then added, “You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t mind being on my own.”
“I’m just next door after all,” Peter said. “All Marie has to do is knock on the wall if there’s anything she needs. Besides . . .” he said, pulling Johanna gently to her feet. “I think you’ve had enough worries for today. Come on, let’s go join the fun.”
The newlyweds had just finished the first dance and were beckoning for everyone else to join them on the dance floor. Ruth’s pregnancy didn’t show at all. In fact the dress that she had chosen in Sonneberg rather emphasized her tall, slender figure. She had decided against an elaborate coiffure and instead wore her hair in one thick plait all the way down her back.
“Ruth looks beautiful,” Johanna whispered to Peter as they joined the other dancing couples.
“And you look just as lovely,” he whispered back. His breath tickled the hairs at the back of her neck.
Johanna felt clumsy as she fended off the compliment. “Nonsense,” she said. “I’m nothing special.”
“You are to me,” Peter said emphatically.
Johanna looked up at him, on her mettle. “Don’t you ever give up?”
He shook his head. “I never will. I’m still quite convinced that we belong together.”
“Oh, Peter!” she said, nudging him gently. “And what if you have to wait for me until you’re old and gray?” It was only half in jest. While she found it flattering that he was so insistent, she didn’t want to raise any false hopes. It didn’t matter how Peter felt about her; she saw him as a brother, nothing more.