The Carousel Painter (33 page)

The words had been spoken with ease, yet each one pierced my heart like an arrow hitting its mark. “You do?” I whispered.

He chuckled. “You cannot tell this already?”

I was uncertain how a proper lady should respond but decided I would be truthful rather than coy. I doubted Augusta would agree. “I have been hoping that was true.”

“And you are feeling the same way?” His brows arched high on his forehead.

“Yes, I’m feeling the same way.”

He leaned back against the wooden slats of the bench with a broad smile splitting his face. “Is gut we feel the same, ja?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Very good.”

Josef maintained a proper distance during the afternoon, but once the sun had set, he moved close by my side. We watched the fireworks burst overhead and gasped with delight at each explosion. After a particularly large display had illuminated the sky and darkness once again prevailed, Josef pulled me close. The shimmer of moonlight outlined his features. Slowly he lowered his head and covered my lips with a tender kiss. His touch set off an explosion inside my head that rivaled the evening’s fireworks. I whispered his name, and once again he took my lips captive, until another explosion lit the sky.

Gently, I pushed against his chest. “People will see us.”

Leaning close, he motioned toward several embracing couples. “They are busy with each other. About us, they do not care.”

A blast cracked the silence and was soon followed by several more loud explosions that signaled the final display of the evening. I jumped to my feet. “We’d better find Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Lundgren and get in line for the streetcar.”

He clasped my hand and pulled me to a halt. “I did not mean to frighten you, Carrie. You don’t need to run off.”

“I’m n-not frightened.” I couldn’t hide the tremble in my voice any more than I could hide the fear in my heart. I longed for Josef’s affection, yet he didn’t know of the accusations against me. And until the detective gave up on finding Mrs. Galloway’s jewelry or apprehended the culprit, I couldn’t share the tale with Josef—and I couldn’t chance losing my heart to him, either.

We walked side by side, and once again he leaned close. “I will not rush you, but I want for you to know my feelings. I don’t want Mr. Galloway’s son or some other man to steal your heart when I am not looking.”

“That won’t happen, Josef. I promise.”

“Gut. I am glad to hear this.”

Mrs. Wilson bustled toward us with Mr. Lundgren following at a close pace. She waved her arm in a giant semicircle. “If we hurry, we’ll be able to get a seat on the next streetcar.”

Josef took the picnic basket from Mr. Lundgren with his left hand and clapped the older man on the shoulder with his right. “She hurries to get us here, and now she can’t wait to rush us home.”

Mr. Lundgren pushed his hat back on his head. “Just like a woman.”

Josef glanced over Mr. Lundgren’s shoulder and grinned at me. “Ja, just like a woman.”

Shortly after we arrived at work on Monday morning, I could sense Josef’s concern. Even from across the vast expanse of the paint shop, I could tell something was amiss. He remained at a distance, where he wouldn’t be detected by the visiting strangers, yet I could see him watching their every move. His attention shifted back and forth, skimming faces among the group.

Who were these men and why had he been excluded? I wondered. Lifting my paints, I moved to the leopard’s head.

“Who are they?” I hissed at Mr. Tobarth.

He lifted one shoulder and just as quickly dropped it back in place. “Don’t know, but they’re sure lookin’ things over.”

I considered the gathering of men Mr. Galloway had escorted to the rear of the paint shop. They were talking in hushed tones. “None of them are men you knew in Philadelphia, are they?”

Mr. Tobarth’s lips curled in a lopsided grin. “None of the fellows I knew dressed like that.”

“What about the owners? I’ll bet they did.” I dipped my paint into a mixture of pale pink I was using to shade the cat’s large tongue.

After one tentative step that brought him farther into the paint shop, Josef took another step, then squared his shoulders. Holding a paper in one hand, he walked up to Mr. Tobarth with an assured stride. He didn’t look toward the men who had gathered around Mr. Galloway in a semicircle. Drawing near, he stooped down between the two of us and pointed to the blank piece of paper while he talked.

“Those men, I think they are here to purchase the factory,” he said.

“How is that possible? You own part of the factory. Besides, Mr. Galloway isn’t interested in selling this place. Augusta would have told me if he had such a plan.”

“When did you last talk to her?” Mr. Tobarth tapped the wooden tip of his paintbrush against one of his front teeth while he waited for my reply.

“I haven’t heard from her since she left a month ago, but I’m certain she would have written and told me.”

“If she knows,” Mr. Tobarth said. “Her father has been in Collins-ford more than he’s been with his family out at that summer place. She probably don’t have any idea what he’s doin’ with his business. Long as she has a new dress to wear to the next party, I don’t think she’d care what’s happenin’ here.”

Pointing my paintbrush in Mr. Tobarth’s direction, I said, “I think I know Augusta better than the two of you. She
does
care and she
would
tell me.” I was tempted to emphasize my point by daubing a dot of pink paint on the tip of his broad nose, but the visitors had dispersed and were moving in our direction.

Josef made a great show of folding the paper and striding off toward his office at the front of the building. Soon Mr. Galloway and the group came closer. I wanted to throw a sheet over my leopard so they couldn’t see it before it was completed and part of a working carousel. Apparently Mr. Galloway didn’t share my concern that someone might steal our ideas, for he pointed out the leopard, as well as the elephant, a mountain sheep, and several partially painted horses positioned in the drying rack. What was he thinking?

Mr. Tobarth remained focused upon his work, looking neither right nor left. Two of the men directed questions to him, but none came my way. In fact, the men stared at me as though I were one of the carousel animals on display—much as Mrs. Galloway had stared at me the first day I’d arrived in Collinsford.

When we departed for the boardinghouse after work, Josef quizzed me at length. He’d discovered very little useful information from Mr. Tobarth. I told him the men had inquired about the length of time it took Mr. Tobarth to paint the carousel animals, his choice of painting techniques, and how many years he’d worked at the factory. Other than that, they’d remained aloof while they circled around for several minutes to watch him paint.

“And they said nothing about buying the factory?”

He’d already asked that same question three times, and each time I gave the same reply. Finally I sighed and came to a halt in the middle of the brick sidewalk. “Do you think I would tell you a lie about such a thing?”

“I hope you would not lie to me about anything. But my concern is great. Not a word did Mr. Galloway say to me before he left the factory with those men.” He motioned me to begin walking. “You do not think that is strange?”

“I don’t think you should worry. It will do no good.”

“This is true, but it is difficult.”

I nodded. I knew exactly how difficult. For far too long, I’d been worrying about Mrs. Galloway’s jewelry. It had been nearly impossible to cease fretting, but it hadn’t done me one smidgen of good. And it wouldn’t help Josef, either.

“Why don’t we work on the new drawings this evening?” If I could keep Josef busy, maybe he wouldn’t worry.

“We are working too much. After supper we should go to the park instead.”

I didn’t argue. The park sounded much more inviting.

I didn’t see Mr. Galloway arrive at the factory the next morning, but around nine-thirty Gus Werner, one of the carvers, came to the paint shop and nudged Mr. Tobarth. “Mr. Galloway just left the factory, and Josef wants to see you in the office.” Gus still hadn’t accepted me as an equal, and he didn’t meet my gaze, but he cocked his head toward the front of the factory, “He wants to see you, too, Miss Brouwer.” He stepped toward our paints. “I’ll see to your brushes.”

Standing up, Mr. Tobarth grunted his approval. I clipped along at a near run in order to keep up with his long-legged stride across the paint room and up to the front of the factory. The minute we entered Josef’s office, I knew something was amiss. Josef’s leg was jiggling so fast he could have churned cream into butter. He gestured for us to enter the room and pointed for Mr. Tobarth to close the door.

“Sit down, sit down!” He swatted toward the chairs, and the two of us dropped quickly into place.

Josef’s behavior disturbed me, but I waited in silence. Apparently Mr. Tobarth sensed a need to remain silent, too, for he sat there as though he’d been struck dumb.

“Mr. Galloway says those men who were here yesterday are very impressed with our new designs.” Josef leaned across the desk, his eyes dark and brooding.

Confusion muddled my brain. Wasn’t that a good thing? We’d been working at a feverish pace to design something that would bring in more orders and distinguish our factory from those in Philadelphia and Brooklyn. I waited for Mr. Tobarth’s response. I did my best to force something from the older man: I cleared my throat, moved my leg close, and poked his shoe. I even jabbed my elbow into his side. He sat there like a lump on a log until I could no longer keep my mouth shut.

“Isn’t that what we hoped for?” My voice was paper thin.

Josef leaned across the paper-strewn desk and looked at me as though I’d taken leave of my senses. “They didn’t place one order—not one. They aren’t interested in purchasing our carousels.”

A lump the size of a grapefruit formed in my stomach. “But they looked excited when they saw the drawings and the animals.”

“That much I already know.” Josef shoved the clutter into his desk and slammed the drawer. If only this problem could be so easily eradicated.

“Didn’t Mr. Galloway say anything to you?”

Josef leaned forward and rested his forehead in his palms. “No. When I approached him, he said he would talk to me later. There is something more to this.”

Mr. Tobarth scooted to the edge of his chair. “Maybe he needs money and figures the easiest way is to sell your designs and then have the two of you come up with something different for us to make.”

I jerked to attention. “They aren’t his designs. They are ours—mine and Josef’s. How can he sell them?”

“You work for him, and I figure that makes ’em his. He probably feels the same way.”

Josef’s complexion had turned the shade of the milk paint used to prime the horses. “You think that is it, Henry? He plans to sell our designs?”

“I’m only makin’ a guess, Josef. Who can know what those rich businessmen are thinkin’.” He looked over his shoulder toward the paint shop. “We can talk ’bout this later. Right now, there’s work that needs to be done.”

Josef nodded. “Ja. But who can say for how long.”

The ominous tone of his voice matched his downcast features. There would be much to discuss this evening.