“I am Jewish, as you know,” she said. But the Schmidt family hadn’t known, except for Karl, and not even he had really thought about it. This Royal Lady, with the steady eye, and commanding presence, was a Jew. Well, no wonder she was engaged to the leader of the Americans, Jew or not. This was Uriel Abrabanel’s niece, and there was a family resemblance now that he looked for it. Karl’s prejudice took another hit that night. It was a fairly big hit, but prejudice takes a lot of chipping away.
Rebecca was still talking, still looking them in the eye. That same sense of involvement that had made Marie Schmidt warn Buster Keaton of impending doom now held Delia and her family silent. Rebecca Abrabanel was not a lady you challenged to her face. By the time the show was over the Jewish princess had more converts to her cause. Tentative converts true, uncertain of what the cause was. Even more uncertain of their place in this new world of magic and miracles, but converts none the less.
September 16, 1631: Schmidt Household
They had talked around it after they got back from the Higgins house. In fact the visit had dominated conversation for several days. They called so much into question, these Americans. They offered so much, but at a price. It was a strange price, and the Schmidt family wasn’t sure they could pay it.
Almost, it was a devil’s bargain: wealth, power, even glory of a kind, for giving up some certainties. Beliefs are a bit like the soul. They aren’t material, they can’t be pointed to, but they are part of what makes us what we are. You can’t just decide to give them up either, they stick around even when you know better. The Schmidt family didn’t think it through like that. Certainly not in those terms. Instead they had an uneasy feeling, like they were about to step off a precipice. Scared and excited. What they talked about by turns, were the marvels and the outrages.
“Music coming out of a box.”
“A Jewish woman talking publicly of politics.”
“Light at the flick of a switch.”
“Dresses above the knee.”
“Becky, seemed honest?”
“I’ve spent my life learning the trade of a smith. I know the making of tools, and little boys are to tell me how to make things.”
“No, Adolph, not how to make things—just what things they will buy.”
“To be paid for with pieces of paper?”
It went on, but the Schmidts were pragmatic people. So much to be gained.
September 25, 1631: Partow House
“The ceramic cases are deforming,” said Trent. “We should have thought of it before. When you make ceramics, you’re heating them to the edge of melting and keeping them there for hours. They become plastic at that heat and deform from their own weight.”
“Are we going to have to go to wood or cast iron then?” asked Brent.
“That will add a bunch of money per machine. Cast iron is more expensive than clay, and we’ve already spent a bundle on the ceramic casings. That’s money down the drain. Are you sure we can’t make them work? Sarah is not going to be happy.”
“I don’t know enough about ceramics to be sure of anything, that’s the problem,” Brent admitted. “How much vibration can they take? Will the wood separators really work? Can we redesign the molds so as to compensate for the deformation?”
October 7, 1631: Grantville High School
On the upside of the ledger, they were only one part away from having finished sewing machines. Mr. Marcantonio said he would have the machine to produce that part ready in a couple of days. On the downside, they were going to have to find somewhere for a factory and they were perilously close to broke—past broke if you included the money that Mr. Marcantonio had said they could wait a while to pay.
The Higgins Sewing Machine Company had been using three storage containers to store parts and blanks. The production machines made by Dave Marcantonio’s shop were still in his shop, so to make and finish parts using them, they went there. Final assembly had been moved to the Higgins’ garage. This had saved quite a bit in rent, but was far from convenient. Now that would have to change. For one thing, Mr. Marcantonio was being crowded out of his shop. He really didn’t have room for all their production machines.