The American Lady (21 page)

“Nothing will change for us in the grand scheme of things; we’ll still be sending the catalog to press in February,” she declared, then cast a sympathetic glance at Magnus, who was staring down at his bench, his shoulders hunched. Then she turned to Anna. “From now on, you’ll have more say in the new designs—Marie writes that you’ve been ready for a while now. Now you can show us what you’re made of.”

And for the first time Wanda saw her cousin Anna beam with happiness.

“Did you see how Ursula Flein was giggling and gossiping with Kurt yesterday?” Anna asked as she turned the tap on the silvering flask and dripped solution into a globe. “All while her Siegfried is off on his journeyman travels in the Rhineland.”

“That was perfectly harmless,” her brother retorted. “If the two of them were going to get up to any mischief, we’d have seen it weeks ago at the Harvest Festival.”

Wanda looked from brother to sister. The twins had gone out together the night before, as they did every Wednesday. Johannes had told her how the young people in the village met in an empty warehouse that had once belonged to the glass foundry. There was talk and laughter and jokes. Wanda decided that these meetings were probably much like she had seen back in New York at the various patriotic societies. Now that she had the chance to take part in German customs in their country of origin, she was confined to the house. But not for much longer, she swore to herself, doing her best to follow her cousins’ conversation. It wasn’t easy. To her dismay she had found that the people in Lauscha didn’t speak anything like standard German but had their own peculiar dialect.

“Anyway, Siegfried and Ursula aren’t married yet—they’re not even engaged,” Johannes added once he had finished blowing another globe.

“What’s that got to do with it? Either she’s serious about him or she’s not! I know that I would be in a right old rage if Richard were to flirt with someone else behind my back.”

Richard? Who was Richard? Wanda pricked up her ears. Could it be that someone was courting her cousin, who always looked as stiff as if she had swallowed a broom?

“Not all the girls have your virtues,” Johanna put in, without even looking up from her paperwork. “Ursula will learn what’s important soon enough, once her reputation’s ruined and no man wants anything more to do with her.”

Anna looked at her brother triumphantly.

“And by the way”—Johanna looked up from her lists—“I ran into Fritz on the main road this morning. He says our new labels have arrived, which means that someone will have to go and collect them tomorrow morning.”

Anna groaned. “Please don’t ask me to do it. I want to see what I can do with that new bird-shaped mold. Besides, you know that I don’t like calling on old Fritz. His hunchback gives me the shivers, and every time I go I’m afraid I’ll find him lying stone dead among all the boxes!”

The others laughed.

“He’s as old as the hills, our village box-maker,” Johannes explained when Wanda looked at him inquiringly. “It’s true, he won’t last much longe
r . . .
One of these days we’ll have to carry him out of his workshop in one of his own crates!”

There was more laughter.

“That’s quite enough!” Johanna scolded them. “What will your cousin think of you when you make such cruel jokes?”

Wanda cleared her throat. “If you tell me the way, I can go and fetch the labels myself. A bit of fresh air would do me good, and besides, it’s time I saw a little more of Lauscha.”

“That would be a fine thing, if the first place you saw in Lauscha was Fritz’s dusty old warehouse! That would hardly give you the right impression of the place,” Johanna said, dismissing her offer with a wave.

The others traded glances of amusement.

“I’d come with you, but we have that order from England, which can’t wait, an
d . . .
Peter can’t leave the workshop either.” Johanna tapped her pencil against the desk absentmindedly, as she always did when she was thinking something over. “No, we’ll do it this wa
y . . .
”

Wanda waited patiently to see what plan her aunt would come up with. She was a little annoyed with herself for being so meek—she would never have put up with her parents deciding something like this for her.

Johanna looked affectionately at Wanda. “You won’t go on your own, in any case. I want you to see the best that Lauscha has to offer, so that you know it’s at least as lovely as Marie has described it to you. You’ve had to wait so long after al
l . . .
”

“Do you mean eighteen years, or do you mean the weeks when she was ill?” Peter asked with a grin.

“Both!” Johanna laughed. “Now, listen to this: Paul Marzen can pick up the box of labels from Fritz when he does the rounds of the pieceworkers; that way none of us have to leave the house. Anna needs the time to work with the mold as she said, and she shouldn’t walk far anyway. But if we all work a little longer this evening, Johannes can give Wanda a tour of Lauscha first thing tomorrow morning.”

9

“Oh yes, and over there used to be the main foundry. My father was a master glassmaker there, but they shut the place nine years ago.”

Johannes’s breath hung in the air in the form of a white cloud while he spoke.

Wanda looked at the abandoned building and felt a twinge of sorrow. The wooden walls were black with soot, and all that was left of the windows were a few jagged glass shards, gnawing at the air. Somebody had torn the boards out along one side, leaving a gaping hole. Wanda had no desire to see what it was like inside.

When Marie had told her stories, the village foundry had been much more than just the place where the glass rods were made. It had been the center of village life, and the little square in front of the foundry was where the most important festivals happened, where everybody met at the end of the day’s work before they went off to a tavern for a beer.

But that was all in the past.

Wanda pointed to the slender chimney that towered over all the buildings around them.

“Like a lonely gian
t . . .
it’s a sad sight.”

Johannes hopped from foot to foot. “But when you remember that the other foundries shut their doors decades ago—there was Steeplejack here in the village, and a foundry up in Obermühle as well—you have to admit that our dear old foundry here did well to last as long as it did. With the modern glass factories that exist nowadays, an old-fashioned place like this was never going to be able to keep up. Well, that’s the way of the world and nobody can hold back progress.”

“The way of the worl
d . . .
you sound like an old man,” Wanda teased him.

“You should hear what the old men say! My father and the other master glassmakers sit around their favorite table in the tavern and talk about how things are getting worse!
‘It was all so much better in the old days,
’
”
Johannes said, imitating his father’s voice.

On their walk through Lauscha, they had already passed at least five houses where Johannes told her that the family that lived there had no work and nowhere to turn for its next meal. Half of the villagers seemed to be on their last legs. And here was this tumbledown wreck, casting its shadow over the main square in the village.

Johannes cleared his throat uncertainly. “If you like, we can go to the museum next. You’ll learn more about Lauscha there than you will anywhere else. And it’s a little warmer in there as well.”

“You’re the guide,” Wanda replied, though by now her feet were beginning to feel like blocks of ice too. Before they could cross the street, they had to stop to let a cart go past, clattering along the bumpy cobblestones with wares piled high in the back. As it passed, one of the horses lifted its tail and deposited a heap of steaming manure in front of Wanda and Johannes.

“Thank you very much!” Johannes called as the wagon went by.

Wanda laughed. “My mother tells me that years ago the women used to walk all the way to Sonneberg and beyond carrying glassware in baskets on their backs. She did that with Marie’s first few globes. But that doesn’t happen anymore, does it?”

“No, these days we just send our boxes to the railway station—in wagons like that—and then they go on by train.” Johannes pointed up at the tips of the fir trees in the forest that climbed the steep hillsides to the left and right of the village. “I bet it’s going to snow, no later than tonight. That white smear across the sky isn’t fog; it’s a sign that the clouds are ready to shed their snow.”

“I do hope you’re right. I can hardly wait to see the village all draped in snow,” Wanda said with delight. Marie had vividly described the contrasts of light and dark when the gray shingled rooftops stood out against the snow.

They had hardly gone ten yards when a huge black dog leapt up behind a garden fence and began to bark furiously at them. Wanda jumped with fright.

“Here now, what are you
gowtzing
at like that?” Johannes called out. “We won’t go near your
heppala
!” She could hear the sound of bleating from a low wooden hut at the end of the fence. “They’re all in the
linny
there, freezing, the poor beasts!”

As always when her family slipped into the village dialect, Wanda didn’t understand a word. She was just about to ask whether the
heppala
were supposed to be lambs or kid goats when a woman put her head out the cottage window and called out to the dog.

“Good day to you, Karline, how are the children?” Johannes called to her. “She’s one of our painters,” he whispered to Wanda.

“Up in the forest, the little scamps! They’ve left me with all the work!” She held up a paintbrush as she spoke to show what she meant, its tip covered in red paint. “You can tell your mother that the Santa Claus figures are ready.” She scratched her head with the other end of the brush. “And that’s the American girl! Are yo
u . . .
on your way up top?” The woman winked at Wanda knowingly.

Wanda smiled back, uncertain what Karline meant.

“No, we’re off to the museum,” Johannes called to the woman over his shoulder. “Our American visitor ought to see everything there is to know about our village and its history.”

“And you’re going to do that by showing her a few old scraps of glass?” The woman laughed and gave Wanda another knowing look. “Well then, have fun.”

“What was all that about? Can you tell me why everyone stares at me like that? Have I grown a wart on my nose during the night?” Wanda asked once they had walked a little farther. “From what you all tell me, the villagers are used to having strangers come to visit by now, aren’t they?” Even as she spoke she could feel more curious glances upon her, this time from two women across the street.

Johannes grinned. “Strangers, yes. But they’re not used to having Thomas Heimer’s daughter come to visit!”

“What?” Wanda stopped in her tracks abruptly. Her head began to spin. “You mea
n . . .
they know that
I . . .
who m
y . . .
”

Johannes seemed to enjoy her embarrassment. “We’ve got long memories here in Lauscha. Everybody still remembers what went on eighteen years ago. And then when your mother simply up and vanished like tha
t . . .
It’s rare indeed that anyone leaves Lauscha for good; we’re a lot of homebodies here. And then seeing as she was a married woman with a chil
d . . .
” He nudged Wanda gently in the side. “Don’t look so downcast. They’re just curious to see what you look like, that’s al
l . . .
” He shrugged apologetically.

“
I . . .
I don’t know what to say!” Wanda had never considered the possibility that everybody here would know all about her.

“You
r . . .
your father’s very well-liked in the village. And we don’t tend to divorce often, either. And then when a missing child turns up all grown up exactly at the moment when the grandfather is on his deathbed and the inheritance is about to be settle
d . . .
Well, people will
quassle
. Talk, that is. It’s quite normal for folk to wonder what’s going on. To be honest, even Anna and I thought about it at firs
t . . .
But then Mother told us that you didn’t even know about your father until a little while ago. It’s a crazy story!” He whistled softly.

Now Wanda was truly speechless.

When they went into the drawing school where the museum was located a few minutes later, Wanda was still shaken. People thought she was a fortune hunter? There was no way she could let them think that about her; she had to set them right!

She frowned as she listened to Johannes explaining the contents of the display cases arranged in an old classroom in the school building.

Johannes noticed the look of disappointment on her face. “I know, it’s not much of a museum yet, but it’s a start. The older pieces were first put on display thirteen years ago, when Lauscha celebrated its three hundredth anniversary. My parents helped organize it. These days everybody likes the idea of having the past on display like this. Here, look at these, some of the first glasses ever made in Lauscha.” Johannes pointed to some beer and wine glasses made of light-green glass, painted with simple scenes of country life. Then he went past several cases full of Christmas decorations and stopped in front of a display with curious pipework and flasks.

“And this is the modern era! With only three hundred short years in between.” He grinned when he saw the confusion on Wanda’s face.

“What in the world are all those?”

“Technical glassware. There are quite a few glassblowers making laboratory equipment these days. It’s a good business to be in, since there are more and more chemical factories springing up and they all need equipment. Anybody who works in technical glass will always have customers. Not like those who still make housewares and ornaments.”

“Time was when the Heimer workshop was well-known for the quality of their wares and the range they could offer, but they’ve been in a bad way for a few years now.”
That was what Marie had told her.

“Marie mentioned that a lot of glassblowers are having trouble finding buyers for their wares, but she never said that half of Lauscha has been hit by the crisis.”

“Aunt Marie!” Johannes laughed. “What does she know about life in the village?”

When he saw the question in Wanda’s eyes, he took a deep breath and explained.

“Marie used to spend her days sitting at her workbench or with her sketchpad somewhere; she didn’t get out and about much. She simply didn’t care to. Whether it was carnival time or the May dance or our solstice celebrations—Magnus often used to complain that he could never persuade her to come out and see people. Her idea of a fun day out was to go and see that old bookworm over in Sonneberg.”

“I don’t believe it!” Wanda exclaimed. “You should have seen her in New York. My mother had trouble keeping her at home any night of the week. She was always going off to a gallery or a poetry recital—Marie was like a butterfly, flitting from flower to flower.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Marie?”

Wanda giggled but quickly became serious. “All the same I still don’t understand why the Lauscha glassblowers are going through such hard times. People need glass everywhere, don’t they, all over the world?”

“They do indeed, but Lauscha isn’t the only place that makes glass. Over ninety percent of the workforce in the Thuringian Forest region is in the glass business—at least that’s what the fellows with the slide rules say. So there’s an excess supply of goods and a labor surplus, and that affects us too, for good and ill. For instance if Mother isn’t happy with one of our pieceworkers because the woman cuts corners in the painting or doesn’t deliver the goods on time, she has no trouble finding someone else to take over. But if we can’t deliver on an order, the client will drop us so fast we won’t know what happened to us.”

“People don’t buy Christmas decorations all year round, though, do they?”

Johannes looked at her approvingly. “Quite right. Seasonal work is especially difficult, you see. And now that so many other suppliers have jumped on the bandwagon these past few years, prices have gone down rather than up. What helps our family is that we have good contacts abroad—thanks in no small part to your mother, who is always finding new clients for us.”

Mother, broadening the client base?
Wanda raised her eyebrows.

“And then the boss is always finding new ways to lower our production costs. Oh yes, and don’t forget that we also make the prettiest baubles!”

“You’re not shy about saying so, are you?” Wanda laughed. But she realized that everything Johannes said was quite true—the family business seemed to be on firm footing. She enjoyed talking to her cousin about business. It made her feel very grown-up.

Johannes had something to say about every item on display, and he seemed to have an excellent head for figures. Lauscha had been founded in 1597. The price of firewood went up in 1748, and then from 1753 onward the master glassmakers were excused from their obligation to supply glasses to the duke’s court free of charge, although they had to pay more taxes instead. And so on and so forth. She found the way he explained everything most interesting, but all the same a dull sense of disappointment was creeping into the back of her mind. Lauscha was so different from how she had imagined it.

Where were all the families sitting by the fireside, painting globes together? Where were the glassblowers’ lamps twinkling through the windows like glowworms to light up the long dark evenings? And where were the marbles men who made every child’s favorite toy?

By the time they left the drawing school, it had begun to snow. Thick velvety snowflakes settled onto Wanda’s hair, shoulders, and arms.

“It’s snowing, it’s snowing, it’s snowing!” She danced with joy right there in the street.

Johannes had buried both of his hands deep in his pants pockets, and he grinned awkwardly. “Don’t make such a fuss now, people are watching!”

“So what? This is the first snow I’ve seen in Germany! I’ll never forget today as long as I live!” Wanda replied, sighing happily.

“The snow’s late this year. But once everything’s covered in white it will stay that way till spring, so you don’t need to stand here in the street forever,” Johannes said insistently. He suddenly seemed to be in a hurry to get back home.

Wanda grabbed her cousin by the sleeve. “Wait a momen
t . . .
how can I even say thi
s . . . 
? There’s something else I must do. Who knows when we’ll get another chanc
e . . .
”

“If you think I’m going to go up the hill with you to the Heimer house, you’re mistaken!” Johannes said, his face unreadable. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me up there. Mother wouldn’t like it one bit.”

“That’s not what I want,” Wanda reassured him. “But there is something I’d like to do now.”