Grantville Gazette, Volume 40 (9 page)

"Wherefore two?" Shack asked. "She can but one wear upon the stage."

"The top one's a gift. A WVU Mountaineers sweatshirt, blue-and-yellow. She'll like that. Actually, they're both gifts, since I can't fit in this blue dress anymore."

Stephanie took her seat at the table and dumped out the rest of the shopping bag's contents, her lunch, as Shack unfolded the sweatshirt and looked at it.

"What doth mean Mountaineers?"

"That's poet talk, Shack," said Tony Mastroianni. "The classy way to say hillbillies."

Everyone smiled at that, then Stephanie said, "Guess what else I found when I was in my attic yesterday."

Stephanie explained about finding the footlocker with the denim in it.

Nicole Hawkins asked, "So why'd you stop? You sewed half of one denim jacket, then you quit the whole shebang. Why?"

Stephanie blushed. "Well, I screwed up. I sewed that much, and then Elaine here, um, asked me, 'So how'd you wash all that denim? Cut it into pieces and wash everything in the bathtub, or hang it lengthwise on a clothesline and blast it with the garden hose? What is it, twenty yards?' I said, 'Eighteen yards, and I've used two up. Why would I wash it?'
 
"

"Shrinkage?" said Tony Mastroianni.

"Bingo, that's what Elaine said," said Stephanie. "Duh! Then Elaine said, 'Plus, if you sew it without washing first, the seams might pucker when you do wash it.' I decided, next time I was in Fairmont, I'd go to the fabric store and buy two more yards of denim. For a while I didn't have the free time to buy those two yards, then personal stuff happened. When the drama was over, I'd lost all interest in the project."

Elaine Onofrio reached over and squeezed Stephanie's hand.

Art Class, Grantville High School

An hour later

The end-of-period bell rang, and the students rushed out of class. Janice Ambler walked in, as fast as her sixty-one years would let her.

"Is it true?" Janice asked Stephanie. "You have no-kidding, for-real denim at your house?"

"Uh-huh, sixteen yards," Stephanie said. "Why, sweetie? You have a rich uncle who's hunkerin' to buy it?"

"No, I want to film it! Can we bring a video camera to your house after school?"

Stephanie thought this would lead to her house getting burglarized. She replied, "How about I go home and get it, bring it back here, and you video me here in the art classroom? All that dark blue will look great with all the greens, yellows, and reds here."

Janice laughed. "Not to mention, the hot-pink heart that someone painted on the wall! Okay, after school, we'll come here to the art room and wait for you to return with the denim." With those words, Janice left.

By now, the classroom was half-full with the next period's class. Elisabeth Hahn asked, "Are you doing something with television now, Teacher Turski?"

"Yes, sweetie, I'm going to be on television. On the news!"

Elisabeth's eyes went wide.

****

Hours later, school was over, but child art prodigy Mary Timm was in the art classroom when Stephanie returned with the blue cloth. The down-timer child got drafted to help demonstrate how much blue cloth Stephanie owned for the TV camera.

Folded in half, the denim ran from one corner of the classroom almost to the opposite corner, making a dark-blue road that was five feet wide.

Grantville Train Station

Friday evening, May 9, 1636

Tilda was amazed. In the old days, it would have taken two or three days of torturous travel to go the sixty miles from Halle to a place near Rudolstadt. Yet here she was, with departure and arrival on the same day, and it wasn't even sundown yet. Trains are wonderful, she decided.

Tilda stepped off the train and thought, I hope I'll still recognize Louisa—

"Tilda! Tilda! Over here!" a smiling, plump woman yelled.

Sometime during the years after her first wedding, Louisa had become a hugger. Tilda got squeezed by her sister, then Tilda was introduced to Louisa's second husband. Christian had a trimmed beard and a ready smile.

Hanging back were two up-timer men. Louisa introduced the older man as Ken Miller, Tilda's new landlord. Herr Miller introduced the limping, blue-eyed man with him as "Jimmy."

The Turski residence

Friday night

Every Friday night, Stephanie hosted "Dinner And A Movie" for a mixture of up-timers and down-timers.

Sometimes Stephanie showed deep, meaningful award-winning dramas that explored the human condition, like
Casablanca
,
The Godfather
,
Shakespeare In Love
, or
Das Boot
, so that Stephanie could put her Masters in Film to good use—

—and sometimes she showed schlock like
Animal House
,
A Nightmare on Elm Street
,
Reefer Madness
, or
Plan 9 From Outer Space
.

Food was potluck, with everyone bringing a dish. Jacqueline Pascal always brought potato chips. Tonight's guests had just gone through the kitchen, loaded up a dinner plate, and returned to their seat. But rather than sit in the chair, everyone stood waiting for Stephanie to sit down. This part of the seventeenth century, Stephanie liked a lot.

No sooner had Stephanie put her plate on the table, than her son Seth cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen,
Herren und Damen
, before we eat, I ask you to please watch something on the TV."

And indeed, Seth walked away from the dinner table and into the living room, where he picked up the VCR remote.

"We're starting the movie early?" Sveta (Svetlana) Trelli asked, confused.

Seth called back from the living room, "No, Mrs. Trelli, I have something else to show y'all."

"Mom is on the news!" Aaron said. "We taped it, so y'all could watch it."

Prudentia McDougal turned to Sveta and sneered, "Did Stephanie say she start movie early? My god, what a blonde."

To which Sveta replied, "Prudi, sweetie, too bad flapping your jaw doesn't burn up more calories. Then you would look good like me. Tsk, you birthed a child five months before I did, but two months later, only you are fat."

It was always like that between those two. For some reason, Prudi and Sveta hated each other.

Jabe McDougal said, "Prudi? Sveta? You both look great."

"Thank you, Jabe," Sveta said warmly. "You are kind."

Prudentia fumed.

By then, Seth had fast-forwarded through the news to the part about Stephanie. "That's Mary Timm!" Jacqueline Pascal exclaimed.

Dinner was delayed while Seth played the videotape. Dinner was further delayed when everyone begged Stephanie to show them her denim.

All the down-timers exclaimed at how stiff and thick the unused denim was, and what a rich dark blue was its color.

"What are your plans for it?" Balthazar Abrabanel asked.

Before Stephanie could reply, Shackerley Marmion did: "If 'twere mine own, I would gather up a great multitude in the car park of the Freedom Arches—"

"Shack, darlin'," Stephanie said with a smile, "the term is parking lot, not car park."

"For you up-timers, aye. But we of England must needs save the language of England-Future," Shack replied.

Shack bowed to Stephanie, while sporting a grin, and continued, "I would gather up a great multitude in the car park of yon Freedom Arches, then hold an auction. Can ye imagine—kings, earls, and Grafen made to bid against CoC 'rabble'? Ah, 'twould be entertainment!"

The residence of Kenneth and Lynn Miller and Tenants

Friday night

For Tilda, shock followed shock during this, her first evening in Grantville.

It started in the kitchen. Tilda didn't see one thing she recognized or knew how to work, though sister Louisa and Barbara Silberbach, the other tenant wife, were clearly familiar with the marvels here. Tilda wound up chopping up potatoes and a huge chunk of beef, unable to help more than that.

Tilda's next shock was about who else was working a knife. Cooking was women's work, so of course neither Christian Töpffer nor Andreas Silberbach were helping in the kitchen. But Herr Miller, Tilda's landlord, stood two feet away from her, chopping onions.

Seeing her questioning look, he explained, "Lynn and I made a deal a long time ago. If I want chopped onions in the beef stew, I have to pay the price." Indeed, Herr Miller's eyes were red and weeping.

Tilda's next shock came when everyone was seated at the table and was about to eat. Herr Miller explained to Tilda that grace was said in English, then German, the prayer rotated every night, and tonight was his night and Barbara Silberbach's night to say grace. Tilda was still marveling at a woman leading a family prayer, when Barbara Silberbach said "Amen"—

—then she and Andreas crossed themselves.

Louisa laughed at Tilda's expression. "My sister, we aren't in Eisleben anymore," Louisa said.

After dinner, the women cleaned up the dishes. This, no man helped with. After Frau Miller started the marvelous dishwasher, Herr Miller told Tilda, "I'm about to watch the news now. You're welcome to watch too, if you want."

Tilda had no idea what Herr Miller was talking about, but Louisa pulled on her arm. "Come on, you'll love it. You'll find out what's going on everywhere."

Indeed, Tilda learned about events that had happened not weeks ago, or even days ago, but earlier that day—

". . . In Paris, the crisis continues. Sources inside the Louvre . . ."

". . . Magdeburg today has cloudy skies, and has received half an inch of rain so far. Magdeburg's high temperature today was 61 degrees Fahrenheit; the low temperature was 46 degrees Fahrenheit. . . ."

". . . The Sackers were down by two runs when Lucas Peetz slammed a triple in the ninth inning on bases loaded, bringing three runners home. Final score: Magdeburg Sackers eight, Jena Wizards seven. . . ."

It all was fascinating to Tilda, but it didn't affect her own life in any way. That is, until the news show was almost over, then she saw—

"And finally, if there's one way to spot an up-timer in a crowd, it's because they all love to wear blue jeans. Blue jeans were made of denim cloth, and yesterday up-timer Stephanie Turski found a lot of unused denim in her attic. . . ."

Tilda was amazed at what a rich, dark blue the cloth was.

"As you can see from these pictures," the news announcer continued, "Stephanie Turski has sixteen yards of unused denim. She says she plans to sell it, as soon as she figures out how."

****

As Herr Miller made the black box and the picture box go dark, he said, "I can't tell you how much I miss real blue jeans! That blue cloth from Italy just isn't the same, and it's darned expensive. Want to know what's funny, in a sad way?"

"What?" Tilda asked.

"You've surely heard of Gretchen Richter." At Tilda's nod, he continued, "She and her younger sister and her grandmother, and a bunch of children that Gretchen was caring for, came here. I'm not sure when, but a month, around then, after the Ring of Fire. As refugees, they were all wearing rags."

Tilda shuddered openmouthed, imagining in horrible detail, herself wearing rags.

Herr Miller continued, "Melissa Mailey, back then she was a teacher at the high school, decided that these people deserved better, so she took them all to Valuemart. Valuemart sells used clothes."

"You should talk to them," Louisa said to Tilda. "I'm sure they need someone who knows how to mend clothes."

Herr Miller continued, "So Melissa Mailey, on a schoolteacher's salary, bought clothing for Gretchen, her younger sister, and all the little kids. I'm not sure about the grandmother. Anyway, the blue jeans and sneakers that Gretchen Richter loves to wear? Melissa bought her those, and because they were used, Melissa paid almost nothing for them."

Frau Miller said, "I should have bought them out then. But I didn't think of it till much later."

Herr Miller sighed. "Ms. Mailey buying clothes for everyone, this was before Grantville got famous. But now? Every rich visitor to Grantville runs straight to Valuemart to buy up-time clothing as a keepsake. You know what that's done to the prices."

"Up-time clothes are so expensive now," Frau Miller said, "that Higgins-made clothing is actually cheaper." She sounded offended.

Andreas Silberbach laughed. "Tilda, there's one thing you need to know as a tailor's wife in Grantville. Up-timers say that new clothes are so expensive? Well, to us down-timers, clothing in Grantville is a steal!"

"Really?" Tilda said worriedly. "What makes it so cheap?" Cheap clothing meant cheap earnings; cheap earnings meant she couldn't make payments on the sewing machine.

Louisa said, "Everyone who sews here has a Higgins. If you hand-sew, you starve. Then the up-timers won't let you charge them the old guild prices, because up-timers know you're not doing as much work as before you got the sewing machine."

"So what prices did the tailor guild here finally settle on?"

Herr Miller shook his head. "This rule that guilds have, 'No master may undersell another master'? We call this 'price-fixing,' and it's very illegal here."

"So how do I know what to charge?" Tilda asked.

"Here, you charge the customer the cheapest amount you can live on, and if that's cheaper than what Johann charges, Johann can't make you raise your price. But Johann can then offer something you don't, for free."

Tilda looked at Louisa and shuddered. "Wow, masters having to fight like beasts in a cage. When you wrote that up-timers hate guilds, you weren't kidding."

Herr Miller snorted. "Ask me sometime about the so-called 'Light-Bulb Maker Guild' that somebody tried to start. Right now, my main supplier is a master blacksmith named Christof Bettinger—"

"He's Mennonite," Louisa added.

"—and the reason he gets most of my business is not because he makes better hinges, but because he doesn't charge me 1630 prices."

Tilda looked at Louisa, heartsick. "Why did you tell me to come here? I'll need to work like a packhorse, just to keep from begging!"

"For a while, yes," Louisa said. "But don't you remember what you yourself wrote me? Ten or fifteen years from now, you'll be sipping wine, while all the hand-sew tailors will be the ones begging."