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Authors: Sarah Atwell
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we’re good.”
“Terrific! I think I can fit in the twenty hours during the next week.”
A week? This guy really was in a hurry. Still, I had no reason to say no, as long as he stuck to the rules I had laid out. “Let’s get that paperwork out of the way. I’ll show you the crucibles and the tongs, and how to turn the kiln on and off, and you’ll be all set to start later today. Remember to leave time for it to heat up.”
“Great!”
Denis certainly was enthusiastic. I tracked down some standard boilerplate forms for studio rental and liability, and we duly signed and copied them. I collected five or six crucibles from wherever they had wandered to in the studio, and showed him how to manipulate them with the tongs. When I glanced at the clock, I realized that it was after ten. “You’ll be back later? I should be back here by four, maybe five.”
“That’s good for me. I’ll be here.”
“Denis!” Elizabeth stood in the doorway, looking annoyed.
“All done here. Thanks, Em,” he said in a falsely hearty voice.
“Later,” I said, and politely hurried Denis and his petulant wife out the door so I could actually work.
The furnace seemed to be functioning just the way it should, and I had a nice batch of clear glass waiting for me. I still felt a little rusty, so I started working on a series of tumblers, which always sold well, matched in size but varied in color, thanks to the different color frits I added. I was stowing the last of an even dozen in the annealer to cool when I realized it was noon and Frank should be back soon. I shut down the glory hole I had been using, checked the settings on the annealer, tidied up, and went into the shop.
I was startled when the phone rang. “Shards,” I said crisply.
“Your cell’s off.” Matt.
“Hello to you too. I wasn’t expecting any calls, and I was working. Anyway, I’m in the shop at the moment. Did you want something in particular?”
“To invite you to dinner. At my place.”
Oh. Dinner at Lorena’s—no, at Matt’s house. I guess I was ready to handle that. “Tonight?
Matt laughed. “Yes, tonight, if that works.”
I took a breath. “Sure, sounds good. Shall I meet you there?”
“If you don’t mind. You know the way?”
“I can find it.” I didn’t admit I had driven by the house once, a long time ago, when I had thought . . . “Seven?” I figured I’d have to babysit Denis for a while, make sure he didn’t blow himself up.
“Seven would be fine.” He hung up before I could change my mind.
Frank arrived as I was hanging up the phone. “Are we on for another go?” he asked me.
“I am indeed, Frank. I had fun yesterday, and now you tell me there’s more?”
I locked up, and we set off along the same path as the day before.
“I need to be back by four, if that’s okay. My peridot guy really wants to get started, so I said I’d give him a few hours today. Tell me, can just changing the color of some stones make them that much more valuable?”
“Ah, that’s a tricky question. Maybe, at least at first, until the market catches up. There’s often a stampede to a new thing, and then the interest fades.”
“Well, he said he was working with Arizona stones and they hadn’t cost him much, so he didn’t have a lot to lose if things didn’t work out. Would he have gotten the stones from those people we talked to yesterday?”
“Most likely—they’ve got a pretty good grip on local output, I hear.”
This time when we arrived at the convention center, Frank had a word with the person at the entrance, and once we were inside, he headed for a section we hadn’t seen before, down a long hall away from the main hullabaloo. There was a sign over the door at the end of the hall: “Dealers Only.” Frank presented the man at the door with a ticket of some sort, then nodded toward me. “She’s with me.” We were ushered through with no trouble.
Inside I took a moment to get my bearings. There were
“Terrific! I think I can fit in the twenty hours during the next week.”
A week? This guy really was in a hurry. Still, I had no reason to say no, as long as he stuck to the rules I had laid out. “Let’s get that paperwork out of the way. I’ll show you the crucibles and the tongs, and how to turn the kiln on and off, and you’ll be all set to start later today. Remember to leave time for it to heat up.”
“Great!”
Denis certainly was enthusiastic. I tracked down some standard boilerplate forms for studio rental and liability, and we duly signed and copied them. I collected five or six crucibles from wherever they had wandered to in the studio, and showed him how to manipulate them with the tongs. When I glanced at the clock, I realized that it was after ten. “You’ll be back later? I should be back here by four, maybe five.”
“That’s good for me. I’ll be here.”
“Denis!” Elizabeth stood in the doorway, looking annoyed.
“All done here. Thanks, Em,” he said in a falsely hearty voice.
“Later,” I said, and politely hurried Denis and his petulant wife out the door so I could actually work.
The furnace seemed to be functioning just the way it should, and I had a nice batch of clear glass waiting for me. I still felt a little rusty, so I started working on a series of tumblers, which always sold well, matched in size but varied in color, thanks to the different color frits I added. I was stowing the last of an even dozen in the annealer to cool when I realized it was noon and Frank should be back soon. I shut down the glory hole I had been using, checked the settings on the annealer, tidied up, and went into the shop.
I was startled when the phone rang. “Shards,” I said crisply.
“Your cell’s off.” Matt.
“Hello to you too. I wasn’t expecting any calls, and I was working. Anyway, I’m in the shop at the moment. Did you want something in particular?”
“To invite you to dinner. At my place.”
Oh. Dinner at Lorena’s—no, at Matt’s house. I guess I was ready to handle that. “Tonight?
Matt laughed. “Yes, tonight, if that works.”
I took a breath. “Sure, sounds good. Shall I meet you there?”
“If you don’t mind. You know the way?”
“I can find it.” I didn’t admit I had driven by the house once, a long time ago, when I had thought . . . “Seven?” I figured I’d have to babysit Denis for a while, make sure he didn’t blow himself up.
“Seven would be fine.” He hung up before I could change my mind.
Frank arrived as I was hanging up the phone. “Are we on for another go?” he asked me.
“I am indeed, Frank. I had fun yesterday, and now you tell me there’s more?”
I locked up, and we set off along the same path as the day before.
“I need to be back by four, if that’s okay. My peridot guy really wants to get started, so I said I’d give him a few hours today. Tell me, can just changing the color of some stones make them that much more valuable?”
“Ah, that’s a tricky question. Maybe, at least at first, until the market catches up. There’s often a stampede to a new thing, and then the interest fades.”
“Well, he said he was working with Arizona stones and they hadn’t cost him much, so he didn’t have a lot to lose if things didn’t work out. Would he have gotten the stones from those people we talked to yesterday?”
“Most likely—they’ve got a pretty good grip on local output, I hear.”
This time when we arrived at the convention center, Frank had a word with the person at the entrance, and once we were inside, he headed for a section we hadn’t seen before, down a long hall away from the main hullabaloo. There was a sign over the door at the end of the hall: “Dealers Only.” Frank presented the man at the door with a ticket of some sort, then nodded toward me. “She’s with me.” We were ushered through with no trouble.
Inside I took a moment to get my bearings. There were
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