The Artisan's Wife

by Judith Miller

  Levi gasped at the sheaf of drawings his brother had produced. Not only were the detailed sketches he’d seen on Sunday accompanied by line drawings, but Noah had completed ten other detailed drawings as well as the line-drawings. The immense amount of work he’d completed in so short a time seemed near impossible.

  “How did you get all of this done, Noah? I haven’t accomplished near as much as you, and I’ve been working long hours.”

  An orderly stepped inside the door and chuckled. “He’s been sitting up day and night working on those. Even with very little sleep, making those pictures for you kept Noah feeling better than I’ve ever seen him.”

  Noah raised his shoulders in a small shrug. “While I was working on these, I felt like I had a reason to keep my head clear.” His lips tipped in a lopsided frown. “It’s been good. I hope you will take these, and maybe Mr. Harrington will want you to use one or two of them.”

  Levi’s heart thudded in his chest. His brother had never before mentioned he had some type of control over his clarity of thought. Was that possible? From the time he suffered that high fever as a child, no one had ever understood why Noah could act and appear normal in one instance and insane in another. And it had been those periods of insanity that had made it impossible for him to live in the outside world. Though he’d never hurt anyone, people feared him when he lost control of his movements and his speech became unintelligible. His glassy-eyed stare created discomfort among all who knew him—all except Levi.

  There wasn’t time to explore the possibility right now, but his mind raced with the thought that perhaps the only thing Noah needed in order to return to a state of normalcy was a job that would instill a sense of purpose. The doctors would likely refute such an idea, but if they were awarded a contract, perhaps there would be some way Noah could help with the project while remaining at the asylum. One day, he might be well enough to come to the tile shop and see where Levi worked. Noah touched his arm and pulled him from his fanciful thoughts.

  “Do you want to take all of my drawings with you?”

  The anticipation in Noah’s voice tugged deep within, and Levi nodded. “Yes, Noah, all of them. I think Mr. Harrington will be exceedingly impressed with them. I need to go now, but I’ll try to return tomorrow and tell you what’s happened. Try to stay in this world with me, will you?”

  A slight smile tipped Noah’s lips. “I’ll do my best. Maybe I’ll start on some new sketches.”

  “You do that.” Levi embraced his brother in a tight hold and then gathered up Noah’s drawings as well as his own sketchbook. “Remember to stay with me.”

  A short time later, Ainslee turned toward Levi. “Mr. Harrington is here.” After taking a final glimpse at the display they’d prepared, she moved to Levi’s side. Together they stepped forward to meet Mr. Harrington. She wanted to grasp Levi’s hand for support, but she dare not do such a thing. She swallowed a giggle as she pictured her brother’s reaction to such behavior during a business meeting.

  Though she had pictured Mr. Harrington as a tall, slender man with a thin mustache, thick dark hair, sharp features, and a stern countenance, he was the exact opposite. His generous paunch preceded him into the room by at least half a foot, and his broad smile and cheerful demeanor reminded her of a jovial grandfather.

  The moment introductions had been made, Mr. Harrington nodded toward the table. “Before we talk, I’m eager to see the display you’ve created.” With his short legs and generous belly, he appeared to waddle rather than walk across the room.

  Levi followed and circled to the rear of the table. “As you can see, these are the few mosaics I had the opportunity to make before moving to Weston.”

  “Um-hum.” Mr. Harrington picked up one of the tiles and carefully examined both front and back. He traced his fingers over the grooves and then moved on to each of the remaining tiles. “Your work is beautiful, Mr. Judson. I’ve never seen anything like these.” He looked up from the tile he held between his thick fingers. “You believe these will prove durable?”

  “They’re as durable as any tile. Each of the pieces undergoes the same firing process and because most of the pieces are small, the impact isn’t great. I would suggest the tiles be surrounded by Cluny quarries, but that would be your choice—something we could discuss in detail if you decide you want to use the mosaics.”

  “And all these drawings. Tell me about your ideas.” Mr. Harrington rested his hand on his paunch.

  The four of them sat down near the display. “When we discussed what might interest you, we arrived at a number of ideas. As you can see, I’ve done some drawings that depict scenes from the Bible, scenes from fairy tales, various occupations, scenes that depict the settlement of this country, the Revolutionary War, and the birds, flora, and fauna that represent West Virginia.” Levi gestured toward each group as he mentioned the drawings.

  “Since I see there are far more of the West Virginia drawings, I’m guessing that’s what you favor?” Mr. Harrington arched his brows and leaned back in the chair.

  Ainslee’s gaze fastened on the businessman’s chair. If he leaned back much farther, the chair, along with Mr. Harrington, would collapse in a heap. She leaned forward and breathed a sigh of relief when the older man followed suit.

  Levi glanced toward the pictures that represented West Virginia, and then returned his attention to Mr. Harrington. “I like the West Virginia sketches, but there are more of them because my brother drew some of them. It wasn’t my intention to sway you in any particular direction, but to give you choices—if you decide to use the mosaics.”

  The older man’s plump face wrinkled into deep folds when his lips curved into a broad smile. “There’s no doubt I want to use the mosaics, Mr. Judson. They are superb. But I do have an idea.” He turned his chair toward the table and surveyed the display. “I hope you will concur with what I suggest.”

  Levi’s head bobbed in fervent agreement.

  “Don’t agree too quickly. You may not like my proposal. Mr. McKay will tell you that agreeing before you know all the facts can lead to disaster.” Mr. Harrington let his focus settle on Ewan. “Isn’t that right, Ewan?”

  “Aye, ’tis not a good practice.” Ewan winked at Levi. “So what is your proposal, Josiah?”

  “The museum is going to have many rooms, with each room dedicated to specific displays. I think it would be good if each room was tiled with a specific motif rather than using the same one throughout the museum. The entry room will be the largest, and it will be used for a permanent display of West Virginia exhibits, where I’d like to use the tiles you’ve drawn to represent our fine state. I’d also like to use representative tiles in the larger foyer where guests will enter the building. I believe you could also do some sketches of our wildlife. Nothing like a cougar or black bear to capture a child’s imagination.”

  “I like your proposal, Mr. Harrington. Using a variety of themes will ensure each tile is unique, and I would do my best to adapt to the type of permanent display you plan for each room. The fairy-tale tiles would be excellent if you’re planning a children’s exhibit area, and the occupational tiles would lend themselves to an exhibit that portrays the variety of trades or the expansion of the country.”

  Mr. Harrington chuckled. “I like your enthusiasm as well as your ideas, Levi, but I believe we need to address some of the other details.”

  Levi dipped his head. “I will accept your ideas concerning the colors of glazes, and I would submit the line drawings to you before we proceed with each room.”

  The older man shook his head. “Those aren’t the details we need to discuss. I trust your artistic abilities. I don’t have the imagination to know what color glaze is needed to create a beautiful tile, but I do need to know how long it will take to make the tiles and the approximate cost. I have a small group of men working with me, and we’ll need facts and figures in order to assess the total cost of the museum.”

  “How far are you in your process, Mr. Harringt
on?” Ainslee asked. “From what you’ve said, I’m assuming you have architectural plans that have been approved, but have you broken ground? And what of financing? Do we need to keep a particular budget in mind when we offer a bid? If you don’t yet have a financial plan, we could make two or three bids in which the cost would diminish depending upon the number of mosaics interspersed with the Cluny tiles.”

  Mr. Harrington’s dark eyes emanated warmth. “You speak with the insight of a seasoned business veteran, Miss McKay. I’m impressed. We have a flexible budget because I’m willing to pour as many of my own assets into the project as necessary. I don’t have a wife or children, so this museum will be my legacy, so to speak. However, I won’t be hoodwinked. I’ve been in business long enough to know unreasonable bids when I see them.”

  Ainslee wasn’t certain whether she should be offended by his final remark, but she wanted to be clear with him. “The McKays are honorable people, Mr. Harrington. We wouldn’t ever attempt to cheat you. Our bids will reflect a cost that permits us to meet expenses and make a reasonable profit.”

  “Forgive my brusque tone, Miss McKay. I’m accustomed to dealing with men. I know I will receive honesty from the McKay family, but I feel it’s best to be forthright at the outset of our talks. I suggest the three of you review our plans for the building before I depart and make note of the dimensions of each room. I’m guessing Mr. Judson will need to do a bit of figuring since some of the rooms are an odd shape.” He turned toward Levi. “Determine how many mosaics would be needed to display them to full advantage in each room, and the cost. Once I have received that bid, we can move forward from there. Is that agreeable, Miss McKay?”

  Ainslee met Mr. Harrington’s gaze. “Not quite.”

  Ewan edged forward in his chair. “Ainslee, I . . .”

  Her lips tipped into a slight frown. “As I was saying, Mr. Harrington, I believe there is one issue we need to clarify before we review the architectural plans.”

  He appeared amused. “What’s that, Miss McKay?”

  “I would like a brief written agreement that you will use a minimum of ten mosaics per room. This request is made so that we are assured it is time well spent for Mr. Judson to move forward creating the tiles. While we believe they could ultimately be sold to someone else, we wouldn’t begin to produce them at this time without your agreement to use them first in the museum.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Your negotiation skills are admirable, young lady. As I said, I greatly admire these tiles, and I want them in my museum. Write up your agreement, and I’ll sign it before I leave Weston.”

  At that moment, it took all the power Ainslee could muster to remain in her chair and appear calm. She wanted to leap into Levi’s arms and permit her joy to overflow, but that wasn’t what was expected of a businesswoman—or man. So instead of jumping up from her chair and dancing around the room, she gave a polite nod and agreed to present Mr. Harrington with the agreement before nightfall.

  “Since we haven’t yet broken ground, we’ll soon be accepting bids for construction of the building, but that will be a slower process. I have high expectations, so I want to be certain each company hired to work on this project will perform excellent work.” The older man pushed to his feet. “I’d like all of you to join me for supper at the hotel this evening.” He glanced at Ewan. “Bring your wife and young daughter along, too. When we get back to the hotel, I can furnish you with the architectural plans so that all of you can go over them in the morning. Unless something arises that requires me to remain longer, I’ll depart on the one o’clock train tomorrow.”

  Ewan accepted for all of them and then prepared to leave with Mr. Harrington. The two of them had walked outside, but Ewan soon returned. “Mr. Harrington asked if we have any objection to a news article regarding the decision to use the mosaics in the museum. He thought it would let folks know the project is moving forward and give us a bit of publicity as well. Is that acceptable to the two of you?”

  Ainslee glanced at Levi, who hiked his shoulders and deferred to her. “Having our name mentioned would be good for business, but this project is going to keep us busy for quite some time.” She hesitated only a moment. “Of course, if it brings us more orders, we can always hire more workers. Tell Mr. Harrington we’d be pleased to have an announcement in the papers.”

  The moment the two men were out of sight, Levi lifted Ainslee off her feet and twirled her in a wide circle. She whooped a shout of delight. What a wondrous day this had been.

  The excitement of the day hadn’t subsided by the time Ainslee walked upstairs to her bedroom. After an hour of tossing and turning in her bed, she lit the oil lamp and picked up Nettie Brinker’s story. She hoped reading would help her fall asleep, but she became engrossed in the story and it wasn’t until the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed three times that she forced herself to put aside the remaining pages. She needed to get a few hours of sleep before morning arrived.

  After breakfast, Ainslee tucked the story into her small satchel. If time permitted, she’d complete it at work. She’d been awed by Nettie’s talent. Granted, there were small errors in her spelling and grammar, but the story and the characters had proved compelling. As she departed for the tile works, Ainslee’s mind whirred. The story was too good to remain packed away in a musty box of papers in the asylum. She startled and turned when Levi called her name.

  He ran to her side, panting for air. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I thought we were going to meet Ewan this morning. It will be our last chance before he returns home this afternoon.”

  She attempted to pull her thoughts back to the present. “I forgot. My mind was on something else.” She hesitated a moment. “Why don’t you go to the hotel and meet with him? I have another matter I’d like to attend to this morning.”

  His forehead formed tight creases. “More important than meeting with Ewan?”

  “There’s nothing the two of you can’t decide without me.”

  “Really?” Levi’s eyes were inquisitive, but he grinned. “What’s so important that you’re willing to miss a meeting with Ewan and me?”

  She glanced at her satchel. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, you better hurry or Ewan will think we’ve both gone missing.”

  Before she spoke to anyone about her idea, she wanted to complete Nettie’s story. Ainslee turned and hurried off, eager to read the final pages.

  “I thought you’d never get here.” Ainslee popped up from her chair like a tightly wound spring. “Wait until you hear what I’ve been doing this morning.”

  Levi removed his cap and coat, surprised by her comment. He’d expected her to ask about the meeting with Ewan rather than tell him about her own endeavors. He sat down opposite her and touched a finger to the side of his head. “I’m all ears.” Ainslee pushed a sheaf of papers across the desk toward him. “What’s this? Not additions to the contract, I hope.”

  She chuckled. “No. This has nothing to do with contracts or the tiles. This is a story written by Nettie Brinker, one of the ladies who volunteered to help with the library project. When I went to the asylum to pick up the letters Nettie and Zana had written to prospective donors, Nettie asked me if I would read a story she’d written. Dr. Thorenson had told her I was a schoolteacher.” Ainslee hesitated a moment. “I couldn’t sleep last night so I started reading what she’d given me. I had to force myself to put it down at three o’clock this morning.” She sighed. “I believe she’s exceedingly talented. I want to help her.”

  So that was why Ainslee had elected to miss the meeting with Ewan. She’d wanted to finish reading Mrs. Brinker’s story. He leaned back in the chair. “I think it would be wonderful for you to help. I’m certain the staff would approve both reading and writing classes at the asylum.”

  “That’s not what I meant when I said I wanted to help. While I’d be pleased to offer classes in the future, I want to do something more with this story. If Nettie agrees, I’d like her to make a few changes and then
I want to submit it to Godey’s Lady’s Book.” Ainslee’s eyes glistened with excitement.

  Levi cleared his throat. While he longed to share in Ainslee’s excitement, he wasn’t certain what she was talking about. His reading didn’t include the book she’d mentioned. “I don’t know anything about books written for ladies, but if you think they might take a look at her story and make it into a book, I’m sure she’d be pleased.”

  Ainslee shook her head. “Godey’s is a periodical distributed each month. They print short stories, recipes, household hints, and also include the latest fashions for women. The magazine is highly regarded, and some of the finest writers in the country have published with them.”

  He didn’t want to discourage her. After all, she certainly knew far more about literature than he. Still, if they published such notable folks, why would they be interested in a story written by a patient living in an asylum? “You truly believe they would read her story?”

  “The magazine says it accepts submissions.” She leaned forward. “You don’t think I should send it?”

  “Quite the opposite. I think it’s a wonderful idea so long as Nettie agrees and she won’t be overly disappointed if they don’t print it.” Of course, Levi wasn’t certain how anyone would know in advance how they would feel in such a circumstance. “Maybe you should ask Dr. Thorenson for his opinion, as well.”

  Ainslee nodded. “That’s a good idea. Now, tell me about your meeting with Ewan. I would like to know what I am talking about when we see him off at the station.”

  Chapter 19

  As time had permitted throughout the early summer months, Ainslee had diligently worked to prepare the library at the asylum. Now she surveyed the room in the asylum one final time. Bookshelves constructed by local carpenters lined the walls of the room, and an attractive seating arrangement and several reading tables had been strategically placed to create a calm mood and provide good lighting for the patients who would utilize the facility. Laura and her mother had both rallied around the cause. Grandmother Woodfield had spread the word and drummed up donations in Bartlett, while Laura did the same in Grafton. Together, they’d made an impressive team and raised enough money to furnish the library and pay the carpenters for the bookshelves.