The Artisan's Wife

by Judith Miller

  Levi chuckled at their playful banter. “No, I’m not from Grafton. I lived in Philadelphia before coming here.”

  “So how’d she come to give you a job? Was there some kind of notice in the newspaper? None of us even knew she was looking to hire anyone else.”

  Levi couldn’t tell if John and the other men were troubled by his arrival, but he likely needed to be careful. He didn’t know how much Miss McKay had told them, and he didn’t want to say anything that might contradict her.

  “I don’t know if she advertised in a newspaper. If so, I didn’t see it. Mr. Kresie, the man I worked for in Philadelphia, is the one who told me there was a tile works in Weston, but I didn’t know if there were any jobs until I got to town yesterday.”

  John shifted his lunch pail to his other hand. “So did that Mr. Kresie shut down his place in Philadelphia?”

  There was no doubt that this conversation was going to lead into questions about why he’d moved to Weston. Since his arrival, he’d been careful to keep Noah’s whereabouts a secret. He wasn’t ready to tell anyone his brother had been admitted to the asylum. While he wasn’t ashamed of Noah or his illness, it seemed folks always treated him differently when they found out about his brother.

  The time would come when he’d tell the men at the house, but not yet. They worked at the asylum, and he hoped to glean a little insight before they learned he had a relative admitted there. He’d visit Noah next Sunday during visiting hours. By then, he’d be willing to tell others his reason for coming to Weston.

  Lawrence dropped back beside Levi. “What’d you think of this place when you saw it? Really something, ain’t it? Mr. Ploughman sure had him some fancy ideas. Looks kind of out of place out here in the valley surrounded by these hills, but the design works real good. Don’t it, fellas?”

  Martin looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, it works good, but I don’t think this here building is as strange as a woman being in charge of a tile works. You ever heard of a woman being in charge of a place like this, Levi?”

  “Can’t say that I have, but I guess it doesn’t matter if it’s a man or woman in charge as long as you’ve got a job and you’re treated decent.” Levi kept his attention fixed on Martin. “Have things changed since Mr. Ploughman sold the business to the McKays?”

  “Nah, nothing’s changed. She’s running things just like he did. We’re doing the same work for the same pay. Right now most of the contracts are ones Mr. Ploughman had before the McKays bought him out. I’m not so sure she’s going to be able to bring in many new customers. Think about it. How many men want to sit down and discuss business with a woman? If she can’t bring in new customers, then this place will go under pretty quick.”

  Levi hiked a shoulder. “She told me she hired me because she just got a new contract. According to her calculations, she needed another cutter and burner to keep up with the old orders and the new one.”

  John snorted. “How’s she think she’s gonna make any money if she hires more help as soon as she gets a new contract? She could’ve waited and had some of the men work extra hours until she knew she’d really need more help.”

  Lawrence shook his head. “I’m a big believer in the good Lord sending what you need when you need it. I think Miss McKay needed another cutter and the Lord sent Levi into her office.”

  Martin gave Lawrence a shove on the shoulder. “When’d you become such a believer in the Almighty taking care of everything?”

  Lawrence’s forehead creased. “I’ve always thought that was true, but it’s hard to remember that when things aren’t going the way I think they should.”

  Martin waved aside Lawrence’s explanation and remained at Levi’s side as they neared the entrance to the courtyard. “Where you living, Levi?”

  “I rented a room at Mrs. Brighton’s boardinghouse—the one for men.”

  Martin chuckled. “I didn’t think she’d put you in the one with the women. I hear tell she’s got some strict rules. She’s made more than one fella leave her place for smoking in his room and another for drinking in the parlor.”

  The early-morning sun cast long shadows across the courtyard. Several men were already shoveling clay from the huge mounds that had weathered at the far end of the yard.

  The three men started off toward the doors along the side of the building, but John stopped and turned. “Was it Miss McKay who sent you to rent a room from Mrs. Brighton?”

  Levi shook his head. “No. A clerk at the hotel where I stayed on my first night in town recommended her. He said she had the best places in town. Why do you ask?”

  “’Cause Miss McKay rents from her, too.”

  Levi gaped at him. After he’d gathered his wits about him, he pointed toward the office. “That Miss McKay? She lives in the women’s boardinghouse? You must be mistaken. Why would a lady from a rich family live in a nice but very average boardinghouse?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe ’cause she ain’t had time enough to find a place to buy, or maybe ’cause she wasn’t sure she’d be happy in Weston. I got no idea how women think. That’s why I’m still single. Guess you could ask her. I hear tell the men and women visit with each other out on those front porches each evening.”

  The bell in the tower pealed, and John ran after Martin and Lawrence, leaving Levi to consider what he’d said. What was it Miss McKay had said when he told her he was living at Mrs. Brighton’s boardinghouse?

  He kicked a pebble across the courtyard and continued toward the office with his thoughts racing. He clicked his middle finger against his thumb. He’d mentioned the house was on Fleming Street and then felt like a fool when she said she knew where it was. Yet why hadn’t she told him she lived next door?

  He stopped short before he entered the office. Had Miss McKay been on the front porch last night when Fred told the ladies he was engaged? To think she’d been listening to the ladies discuss him as a possible suitor caused his stomach to churn. Worse yet, what if she’d heard he was engaged to a young lady in Philadelphia? Then again, why would she care if he was engaged?

  Chapter 9

  Ainslee looked up from her ledger as Levi Judson entered the office. “Good morning, Mr. Judson.” She blotted the page before closing the ledger. “I trust you had a pleasant evening at your new residence.”

  Though he appeared somewhat taken aback by her comment, he merely nodded. “Good morning, Miss McKay.”

  Ainslee pushed to her feet, rounded the desk, and gestured for him to follow her. “We won’t spend a great deal of time on the tour since you’re already familiar with the tile-making process. I told the other employees that I’d hired a new man and that you’d begin today.”

  “Yes, I know.” He followed her into the courtyard.

  She stopped and turned. “And how did you know, Mr. Judson? None of my employees live at the boardinghouse.”

  “I met three of the workers when I was on my way here this morning. They were scrabbling down the hillside along the main road.”

  She continued on toward the heaping piles of clay. “Oh, yes. Martin, John, and Lawrence. Am I right?”

  He nodded. “Their surefootedness impressed me.”

  “Their work skills are impressive, too. I think you’ll discover all of the men well-trained and good at their jobs. Most of them have been here for many years, and all of them were hired by Mr. Ploughman.”

  She stopped and introduced Levi to the diggers. “A few of the unskilled men like the diggers come in and work only as needed. Most of them are farmers or have other jobs, as well. We purchase our clay from area farmers and let it weather here.”

  “What if they’re working for someone else, or their crops need to be planted and you need them here to shovel clay?” Levi asked. “It could throw off your whole production schedule.”

  “Mr. Ploughman provided me with a long list of names I could call upon if the regulars aren’t available. If I couldn’t locate anyone to do the job, I’d pull men from other jobs to help. A cutter or bur
ner might not want to spend the morning as a digger, but . . .”

  “You’re paying them to do the work you assign them.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly regained her composure lest he see through her bravado. “Exactly.”

  They returned to the covered walkway and entered the building, where the thick-walled construction provided a cooler temperature. A wide hallway led them into the mixing room, where Ainslee introduced Levi to Harold and Robert, the two men who operated the huge clay mixer.

  Ainslee stopped beside the machine. “Are you familiar with this type of mixer, Mr. Judson?”

  Levi nodded. “I’ve worked a similar mixer.”

  She gave him a half smile. “Good. Then I know who I can send to help with the mixing if Robert or Harold should be absent in the future.”

  Levi tipped his head to the men. “I look forward to getting to know both of you better.”

  The men grunted in return. Ainslee had expected them to behave in a more welcoming manner, but she didn’t know either of the men very well. Perhaps they didn’t take to strangers.

  Ainslee waved him onward. They’d walked a short distance from the mixing room when she pointed to stairs leading to the lower level. “This is where the dumbwaiter delivers the slabs of clay to dry.” She glanced back toward the mixing room. “I thought Robert and Harold would be pleased when they learned you had experience mixing and could take over if they were absent.”

  Levi shrugged. “I’m not surprised. Rather than considering it a good thing to have someone who can help with their work, they may view me as someone who could cause them to lose their job.”

  “Surely not. That’s just silly.” Ainslee gave him a sidelong glance. “They’ve worked here for years and should know I wouldn’t replace either of them, but Robert hasn’t been well. He’s missed a number of days since I took over, and it slows the process when Harold is alone in there.”

  Ainslee’s thoughts churned as they walked to the cutting room. Had bringing another employee into the workplace caused the workers to feel threatened? One of the reasons she’d told them she had hired Levi was so they wouldn’t be caught unaware. Maybe she should make rounds later in the day and offer each of the men reassurance. On the other hand, maybe that would only make matters worse. She’d wait and see how the other workers reacted.

  Next they made a stop in the cutting room, where Ainslee introduced Levi to the foreman. Joseph was a slow-moving, meticulous man, considerably older than Levi, who preferred perfection over speed. Even though Ainslee didn’t know much about Levi’s work habits, she thought the two men would work well together. She’d been surprised when Joseph looked at Levi with a hint of suspicion in his eyes and doubt in his voice. “How much experience have you had cutting?”

  Ainslee stood to the side and watched the exchange between the two men. Joseph continued to ask about Levi’s qualifications but nothing more. There had been neither words of welcome nor signs of elation that would indicate Joseph was pleased he would have someone to share the workload in the cutting room. He’d been as cold and distant as the other men, especially when she said that Levi would return and work in the cutting room once he’d seen the rest of the operation.

  Maybe Levi was right: Maybe the men did view his arrival as a threat to their jobs. Maybe she should have told them about the new order before introducing Levi. A sigh escaped her lips. She didn’t have enough knowledge to operate the business, much less know how to handle a group of unhappy men.

  With her head bowed low against the wind, she hurried to the opposite end of the courtyard. Once inside, she turned toward him. “The kilns are in this section. Having them a distance away keeps the rest of the building cooler in the summer.”

  Levi told her the kilns weren’t as large as some he’d seen in various operations but that he’d have no problem if asked to fire and tend them.

  When they returned outdoors, Levi pulled his cap onto his head and touched the brim. “Thank you for showing me around. You have a nice operation, Miss McKay. I believe I’m going to enjoy working here.”

  “I’ve had no complaints about the working conditions, though I doubt you’ll find it as enjoyable as evenings on the front porch of the men’s boardinghouse.” The moment those final words slipped out of her mouth, she wanted to snatch them back. Why hadn’t she left well enough alone?

  “You seem particularly interested in my free time last night, Miss McKay.” His brown eyes twinkled with mischief as they continued toward the office. “I would have enjoyed it much more if you would have joined the other ladies who paid a visit. I understand you rent a room from Mrs. Brighton, as well.”

  Her breath caught. One of the other women must have mentioned her name last night. She struggled to maintain her decorum. What had been said? She forced her lips into a tight smile. “Was it Mae or Sarah?”

  His brows dipped. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but your name wasn’t mentioned last night. At least not while I was outside.”

  A rush of heat climbed up Ainslee’s neck and quickly spread across her cheeks. Wonderful! Now he was going to think her a self-centered woman who thought she would be the topic of every discussion.

  They came to a halt outside the office door. “I’m not disappointed, Mr. Judson. Quite the contrary. I don’t enjoy being the focus of attention. I was curious how you’d learned of my living arrangements and wrongfully concluded Sarah or Mae had told you.” She arched her brows and waited.

  And waited.

  When she could bear the silence no longer, Ainslee folded her arms in front of her and tapped her foot. “Well? Are you going to tell me how you learned where I live?”

  “Sorry.” He rubbed his palm along his jawline. “I didn’t mean to annoy you, Miss McKay. It was one of the men I met on my way to work this morning. I believe it was John.” He furrowed his brow. “He didn’t act like he was divulging a secret.”

  “Of course not. Most all the employees know where I live. I was merely curious about who told you.”

  “Once I found out, I was curious why you hadn’t told me yourself.”

  She hesitated. They’d both been careful what they told each other. She had inquired why he’d come to Weston, yet he hadn’t yet told her—at least not to her satisfaction. There was more to the reason why he’d arrived here. She had a feeling that his secret was much deeper than the reason why she’d hesitated to mention where she lived. Of course, she’d been secretive about her desire to leave the tile works and Weston behind her. Divulging that piece of information could prove fatal to the company.

  He mimicked her earlier stance and folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot. “Well, are you going to tell me why you kept it secret?”

  “I didn’t tell you because when I was a young girl, my brother warned my sisters and me against telling strangers where we live. Besides, revealing personal information flies in the face of proper social etiquette.”

  He flinched as though she’d slapped him. “Now that I know, I promise I won’t take advantage, Miss McKay.” He tipped his hat. “Should I return to the cutting room and begin work?”

  “Yes, and why don’t you tell Joseph I’ve secured a large order? He’ll spread the word among the men. That will likely ease some of the tension I sensed when I was introducing you to the other workers.”

  Instead of looking at her, he made a half-turn toward the cutting room. “Whatever you think is best. I did mention the new order to Martin and his friends. They seem to think you should have offered the men extra hours instead of hiring me.”

  She sighed. Was nothing she did correct? “I’ll return and speak to Joseph later this morning. He may not have heard and perhaps he’ll think my decision was sound.”

  With no more than a curt nod, he strode away. She hadn’t intended to offend him with her earlier remark about proper etiquette, but it appeared Mr. Judson was unhappy.

  After a final glance over her shoulder, she pulled open the office door
. Why was she worried about Mr. Judson’s reaction? She didn’t need his approval or acceptance. He was no different than any of the other workers. Or was he?

  Since his arrival in Weston, Levi had been to the asylum to visit his brother, Noah, as often as time would permit. Oddly, he’d not run into any of his housemates during his visits. He didn’t inquire but presumed that those who worked on Sundays were assigned to other units of the asylum. Things at the tile works had fallen into a comfortable routine, and the men seemed amiable. Miss McKay, too, appeared to be embracing her role of leadership.

  During Levi’s visits to the asylum, Noah had appeared well cared for, although he’d exhibited bouts of restlessness, pacing back and forth in front of the bedroom window. While some of the male patients enjoyed working outdoors in the gardens, others, including Noah, resisted the idea. Even as a child, Noah had disliked being dirty, and that hadn’t changed.

  Levi’s concerns that the endless hours of pacing would cause his brother’s condition to worsen had resulted in many late-night prayers. Last night while he’d sat on the side of his bed asking God what he could do for Noah, an idea had come to mind. He’d need to gain permission from the asylum staff, but he hoped his suggestion would be met with enthusiasm.

  He bounded down the steps and took his seat at the table with several other men who were eagerly awaiting breakfast. The boarders who worked at the asylum were always first to arrive downstairs since they departed earlier than the other tenants.

  Henry nodded to him. “You’re earlier than usual, Levi. Going into work early this morning?”

  “No. I wanted to get down here and talk to you before you left the house.”

  “Why’s that?” Henry’s bushy brows knit together. He glanced toward the kitchen. “I wish Miss Hanson would bring the coffee in. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  The other men mumbled their agreement, obviously none of them particularly interested in Levi’s reason for joining them.

  He waited only a moment longer, then cleared his throat. “I haven’t mentioned this to any of you before, but I have a brother who is a patient at the asylum.”