The Artisan's Wife

by Judith Miller

  Paper in hand, she sat down opposite him. The massive chair swallowed her thin frame, and she wriggled into a more comfortable position. She extended the paper. “These are my rules. If you can abide by them, I’ll need you to sign at the bottom of the page and pay the current month’s rent today. At the end of the month you can pay either weekly or monthly depending upon how you receive your pay.”

  Levi traced his finger down the page. Rent must be paid on the day it is due. If not, boarder agrees to vacate room immediately. Mealtimes were set forth along with a warning that one was expected to be on time, and one day’s notice should be given if one would not be present for a meal. No drinking alcohol inside the house. No smoking or chewing tobacco inside the house. No female visitors allowed in any room other than the parlor, and they must leave the premises by nine o’clock.

  “I’ll have no problem abiding by your rules, Mrs. Brighton.”

  She rose from the chair. “If you’ll step over to the desk, you can sign the agreement, pay your rent, and get settled in your room. You’ve already met Miss Hanson. She helps me with the housekeeping and cooking. I spend time in both of the boardinghouses, but mostly I’m with the young ladies, since that’s where my room is located.”

  Levi carefully signed and blotted his signature. The boardinghouse owner hadn’t asked where he planned to work or why he’d come to Weston, a fact he appreciated since he hadn’t yet located a job. Of course, he expected it didn’t much matter. He’d already agreed to vacate the room if his rent wasn’t paid on time.

  “Will you want a lunch pail for your noonday meal? Most of the men carry their lunches to work, and I don’t serve a noonday meal in either of the houses except on Sundays.”

  Levi hesitated, then gave a quick nod. “Yes. That would be most welcome.” He didn’t know where he would be at noon tomorrow, but if he met with any success later today, perhaps he’d be working at the McKay Tile Works.

  Mrs. Brighton followed him to the hallway. “Just remember. No ladies in your room. Seems that rule is the most difficult for some of the men to remember, and it’s also the reason I’ve had to send them packing.”

  “No need for concern, Mrs. Brighton. I’ll not forget.” The last thing on Levi’s mind was a woman. Far more pressing matters consumed his thoughts.

  After depositing the cases in his room, he tucked the brass key into his pocket and returned downstairs. He could unpack this evening. Right now, a visit to McKay Tile Works was more important.

  The location of the tile works would make it possible for him to walk each day, though the trek would likely prove daunting in frigid or rainy weather. Still, he couldn’t afford to spend money on a horse. Even if he had the funds to purchase one, there would be the weekly expense of feeding and boarding the animal. Besides, he’d have to walk to and from the livery each day, which wouldn’t save him much time or shoe leather. Although walking to the tile works would be possible, the asylum was at least four miles from the boardinghouses. Did the men and women employed at the asylum walk each day? Surely not. He pushed the matter from his mind and bounded down the front steps.

  The midmorning sun beat warmly on Levi’s back, and beads of perspiration soon dotted his forehead and upper lip. His woolen suit jacket was far too heavy for the summer heat, but he didn’t want to wear his old work clothes—bad enough he had only heavy work shoes. He needed to make a good impression.

  Once he’d begun the short descent to the tile works, a breeze stirred through the copious oaks, pines, and spruces that saturated the hillside. He admired the tile work’s mission-style structure, though, much like the asylum, it appeared strangely out of place deep in these hills. Smoke rose from the kilns and beckoned him onward. When he neared the office door, he breathed out a prayer that the Lord would be with him when he met with Mr. McKay. He needed to live near his brother and safeguard his care. He’d made a promise to Noah and to God. A vow he intended to keep.

  A brass bell hanging over the front door clanged an announcement of his entrance into the office of McKay Tile Works. An attractive young lady sitting at a desk in the far corner next to a bank of windows waved him forward. He strode forward while attempting to hide his surprise.

  “May I help you?” Golden shades of sunlight danced through her light brown hair when she lifted her head and met his gaze. Her blue eyes shone with an intelligent curiosity that caught him unaware.

  “I-I-I’m Levi Judson. I’m looking for work and hoped I might speak to Mr. McKay. Do you know if he has any openings? I have experience working for Mr. Kresie at the Philadelphia Tile Works, and he wrote a letter recommending me.” Levi nodded toward the men working in the courtyard. “This place is a lot different than where I worked before.”

  The woman returned his smile. “Probably far more different than you realize.”

  Her answer pleased him. Perhaps they had developed some new techniques and would be interested in his ideas. The thought caused his pulse to quicken. Levi reached into his suit jacket and retrieved the letter Mr. Kresie had given him. “I’m new in town and need to find work as soon as possible. I’ve had experience working most any position in a tile works. I was a supervisor and managed the business when Mr. Kresie was out of town.” He didn’t want to sound like a braggart, but he hoped that stating his qualifications might gain him access to the owner. “I wasn’t sure if I needed to make an appointment to see Mr. McKay, but I decided to take my chances that he’d be here.”

  “The only member of the McKay family who works here is me, Mr. Judson.” She extended her hand toward the letter.

  “I see.” But he truly didn’t see—not at all. He glanced over his shoulder and into the hallway. Surely there must be someone nearby who was going to talk with him. He forced a smile and continued to clutch the letter. “I suppose I need to speak to the manager or foreman, then. What is his name?”

  “Her name is Miss Ainslee McKay, and you are speaking to her. If you want a job, you’ll need to turn loose of that letter, Mr. Judson.” Her impatient tone caused him to take a step forward and offer her the missive. She gestured toward a chair near her desk. “Do sit down.”

  Heat raced up the back of his neck and perspiration trickled down the sides of his face. He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face. “Quite warm in here, don’t you think?”

  “On the contrary, I thought it a wee bit cooler than usual. Perhaps your warmth has to do with something other than the weather.” She grinned, obviously enjoying his embarrassment. “Before I read your letter, why don’t you tell me why you left your previous employment?”

  He traced his index finger beneath his collar and longed for a breeze to blow through one of the windows. “I was at the Philadelphia Tile Works for five years and performed most every job from shoveling clay to loading and unloading saggers and firing the kilns. They produce fine paving and roof tiles, though nothing of a decorative style. As I said earlier, I managed the business when Mr. Kresie was out of town or ill, and had been a foreman in all of the shops. When Mr. Kresie learned I was moving to Weston, he told me he was friends with the owner of a tile works here. He wrote to Mr. Ploughman and asked him to give me a job, but . . .”

  “But Mr. Ploughman wrote back and said he’d sold the place to the McKay family.”

  Levi nodded. “Yes. Mr. Kresie figured it would be better if I carried the letter with me. That way, if I didn’t get a job with you, I could use the letter at other places I might look for work.”

  “You still haven’t mentioned why you left your position with Mr. Kresie. Do you have family in the area?”

  “I do. A brother.” He scooted back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest.

  “I only ask because I don’t want employees who are here one day and gone the next. I need dependable workers who will be here on time every day.”

  He gestured toward the letter he’d given her. “If you’ll take a look at that recommendation, I think you’ll see that I have been a f
aithful and reliable employee. If you have any doubts about my character, I’d encourage you to write or telegraph Mr. Kresie.”

  Instead of quizzing him, why didn’t she just read the letter? Maybe that was one of the differences between men and women running a business. Women liked to discuss things, while men didn’t waste time talking. Then again, maybe it was her way of sizing him up. There was no way to be sure since he’d never before had to ask a woman for a job.

  “Unless I discover something unforeseen in Mr. Kresie’s letter, I don’t think there will be any reason to contact him.”

  Levi’s attention remained fixed on Miss McKay as she unfolded the letter and scanned the contents. Hopefully, the portion of Mr. Kresie’s letter that referred to Levi as a true artisan would result in a job offer. Otherwise, he’d need to look for work elsewhere. Jobs were usually available in the nearby coal mines, but going underground to eke out a living would be his last resort.

  When she’d finished reading the letter, Levi leaned forward. “What do you think, Miss McKay? Do you have a job for me?”

  “Had you come here last week, I wouldn’t have hired you no matter how glowing your letter of recommendation. But things have changed. We’ve received a large order from a new customer, and I could use another tile cutter.”

  “I’ll be pleased to—”

  She lifted her hand to stay him. “Let me finish before you accept, Mr. Judson.”

  Embarrassment seized him. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

  “As I was saying, I’ll need another tile cutter, but you would be required to fill other positions where needed. We are a small operation. With the exception of burners, our workers are able and willing to perform most any job within the tile works. If I need men to load barrels for shipping or to dig clay rather than to cut tiles, I can depend on them.” She tapped her finger on the letter. “Mr. Kresie says you’re a skilled burner. Most likely I’ll need you in that position as much as cutting. Would that suit you?”

  Levi nodded. “I’ll work wherever I’m needed.”

  Burners received higher pay than cutters, but he’d wait and see what she proposed when it came to wages. Either way, he’d accept the job. Low wages would be better than no wages. She inched forward in the deep leather chair and rested her arms atop the broad desk. The massive furniture dwarfed her slender frame. Odd that she didn’t replace it with pieces that would prove a better fit. Perhaps a local carpenter had been commissioned to create a desk that would accommodate her small stature.

  “Working hours are seven in the morning until six in the evening with a half hour for the noonday meal. I’m told the thick walls keep the temperature in the building bearable throughout the summer. That has proved true thus far, but if it should change, we’ll begin work at five thirty, take off a couple hours in the heat of the afternoon, and then return. Of course, burners will need to be here to tend the kilns if we’re already firing. Will that cause you any problem?”

  “No. As long as the foreman lets me know when and where I’m needed, I’ll be here to do my job.”

  Even though he wanted time to visit with his brother, Miss McKay had already mentioned that there was another burner. Most burners didn’t like to leave another man in charge of their kilns, so Levi doubted he’d be asked to tend the fires very often. Besides, he’d have Sundays to visit with Noah.

  “Wages are paid at the end of the workday on Saturday. When you’re at the kilns, you’ll be paid ten cents more an hour than when you’re cutting. If you prove to be a good burner, I’ll raise it to twelve cents more. I pay my cutters two dollars a day. If you have any questions about what you’re paid, you can examine the books to make sure I have your hours correct. If that’s agreeable, you can begin work tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Miss McKay. You won’t be sorry you hired me.”

  “I’m sure I won’t. You can report here in the office, and I’ll give you a tour of the tile works and introduce you to the other workers.” When she stood, he pushed to his feet. “Are you living at your brother’s home?”

  “W-w-what? My brother?” Confusion momentarily washed over him.

  “You said your brother lived in Weston, and I wondered if you were staying at his home.”

  “No. I have a room at Mrs. Brighton’s boardinghouse. It’s a little over a mile from here, on Fleming Street.”

  She smiled. “Yes. I’m familiar with the location.”

  She must think him a dolt. No doubt she knew the locale of every business and residence in the town. Before he could make a bigger fool of himself, he waved and hurried out the door.

  Chapter 7

  Ainslee leaned back in her chair. From the wide bank of windows, she watched Levi Judson dash across the courtyard and begin his ascent up the path that would take him back to the boardinghouse. He moved as though he feared she’d run after him and rescind her offer of employment, but he need not worry on that account. He was exactly what she needed—a worker who had experience in all aspects of the business. If Mr. Judson’s account of his abilities was true, he’d be able to assist and help manage the business whenever and wherever she might need help. While the other workers were skilled in their own positions and could fill in on others when necessary, none of them had the overall experience Mr. Judson seemingly possessed. She watched until he was out of sight. Curious that he’d revealed such discomfort when she’d mentioned his brother.

  However, perhaps he was like her—a person who preferred privacy. If so, she certainly couldn’t fault him. There was little doubt the good-looking young man would be the topic of conversation at the dinner table tonight. According to Mrs. Brighton, a new man in town never escaped the ladies’ notice—especially if he was living next door. If the weather cooperated and Mr. Judson stepped outside after dinner, the ladies would be aflutter. They’d take to their chairs and fan themselves while directing coy looks across the short expanse that divided the two porches. They’d giggle and whisper among themselves until one or two of the men would arrive and escort them across the small divide.

  They wouldn’t expect Ainslee to join them. She’d made it clear to all of them that she wasn’t interested in pursuing a man. At first they’d expressed disbelief that she wasn’t seeking a possible suitor. Soon, however, they happily accepted her decision—likely because she was one less woman with whom they would need to compete.

  She reached into the desk drawer and withdrew a sheet of stationery. She’d promised to keep Ewan informed. The new order she’d received at the tile works had been unsolicited, a complete surprise—just like Levi Judson. Taking pen in hand, she smiled. She was certain this was the beginning of an answer to her prayer. Coupled with Mr. Judson’s arrival, the large unexpected order could mean nothing else. More orders and skilled employees would gain them higher profits, and higher profits would cause businessmen to take note. Surely it wouldn’t be long until she boarded the train for a permanent return to Grafton.

  After detailing the recent order and setting forth Mr. Judson’s abilities, Ainslee asked if Ewan had placed for-sale advertisements in any broadsides. She then closed the letter with a more personal paragraph. “I’m getting on with the other ladies quite well.” She stared at the sentence. She should have left out the word quite. It was true she was getting on with them well enough, but quite made it sound as though she was truly enjoying their company. She could scratch through the word, but that might create a bit of uneasiness as well as a flood of discussion at the McKay dinner table. Her only other option was to rewrite the entire letter. No. She’d leave it as written.

  I visited the small church located not far from the boardinghouse. All of the boarders who attend church go there. I’m told they have picnics and other socials during the summer months. Mrs. Coates, the preacher’s wife, invited me to Sunday dinner at their house so they could “get to know me better,” but I declined, as I wasn’t feeling well.

  Ainslee sighed. Though she could have accepted the invitation, she hadn’t felt particu
larly well that day. Maybe writing a personal note hadn’t been such a good idea. Each sentence stretched the truth a bit. Better to write nothing more than continue with her half-truths. She dipped her pen into the ink pot.

  Please write and tell me how things are going at the pottery, especially at the school. Tell Tessa to draw me a picture, and give her a kiss for me. I miss you all a great deal and look forward to the day when I’ll return home.

  Any further word from Adaira?

  Ainslee’s heart pinched as she penned the question. She had hoped Adaira might write one final letter before she departed for Paris, but she and Chester had likely already sailed.

  On several occasions, Ainslee had taken up her pen to write her sister, but she’d crumpled and tossed each one. Her attempts had been stilted and formal, and without Adaira’s address, she’d given up trying. Yet the ache for her sister and what had been gnawed at her. Things between them would never be the same. Adaira now had a husband, who would always be her first consideration. That was as it should be, but that didn’t ease the void in Ainslee’s heart. And it didn’t change the fact that Adaira was the one who had broken her promises and damaged their bond. Forgiveness would be easier if her sister’s letter had contained a genuine apology. At least that’s what Ainslee told herself.

  Ewan’s admonition to forgive continued to haunt her. He was right, of course. She would eventually forgive, but she doubted whether the wound would totally heal.

  The bell in the tower clanged and pulled her from her thoughts. Workers spilled out of the doors into the shaded courtyard to eat their noonday meal. Ainslee silently scolded herself. Instead of dreaming about what could have been, she needed to attend to the task at hand. Instead of writing Adaira, she needed to contact prospective and current customers and grow the tile works into a prospering business. Instead of holding on to her anger, she needed to look to God for deliverance.