Ghastly Glass Read Free

have a little bad luck when it comes to my apprenticeships. I didn’t want to catch on fire, no matter how memorable that might seem to some diehard Ren-Faire visitors.
    “Ghost. I look better in white.”
    Portia lifted a black costume complete with pointed hat. “Sorry. Fresh out. Try again at the beginning of the week. Good to have you back. Enjoy your stay.”
    Was it just me or did everyone seem to have a bad attitude about this venture? Where was the spirit? Where was the excitement?
    “Next.” Portia looked past me at Debby. “All bawdy wenches are the undead.”
    “The undead what?” Debby demanded. “You mean vampires? Or zombies? ”
    “I’ll see you later.” I tactfully sneaked away before it got any worse. This visit to Renaissance Village wasn’t turning out the way I’d envisioned. No Chase. No excitement. I was disappointed to say the least.
    “Greetings, good lady!” A handsome lord doffed his large feathered hat in a deep bow. “Might you be the apprentice for the Glass Gryphon? ”
    My heart sped up a little when I took in the excellent attributes that even his lordly apparel couldn’t hide. His hair was thick, chestnut brown, gleaming with red highlights in the sun. His smiling blue eyes looked me over from the tight jeans to the low-neck green sweater I’d worn for Chase, who wasn’t around to appreciate me. All in all, a sweet welcome package.
    “I’m Jessie Morton, good sir. Who might you be?” I dropped him a little curtsy that showed off a couple of my attributes.
    “I am Henry Trent, nephew of Roger Trent, owner of the Glass Gryphon. My uncle sent me to meet you and escort you through the Village to the shop. Are you ready to go? ”
    I knew I should get my bag from the car and settle in with Debby, but this seemed a good opportunity to meet Roger again and go over my responsibilities as an apprentice glassblower. You had to be careful in the Village or the craftsman you served would have you running errands and picking up laundry from the Lovely Laundry Ladies instead of learning the craft.
    Since I’m already working on my dissertation, which I hope will become a book someday, my research here has become very important to me. I’ve titled my dissertation, “Proliferation of Renaissance Crafts in Modern Times.” I’ve already apprenticed with a Gullah basket weaver at Wicked Weaves and Master Archer Simmons at the Feathered Shaft. This time it’s glassblowing. Who knows what it will be next summer? I’ve talked to a few other Craft Guild members like the Hands of Time clock shop and Pope’s Pots pottery shop. I’m ready for anything.
    Especially if a good-looking man comes along with the project. It can’t hurt. “Lead on, good sir.”
    Henry swept me another elegant bow, then took my hand and laid it on his forearm as we started walking through Renaissance Village.
    The Village is situated on the site of the old Myrtle Beach Air Force Base. Most of the shops have living quarters above them for the full-time merchants. The rest of the space is filled with part-timers like me, about three hundred of them at any given time.
    Unlike most Renaissance faires, this one goes on every day except Christmas day. It’s open from morning to evening seven days a week with the King’s Feast held at the castle every Sunday night. Hundreds of thousands of visitors come through the main gate every year to be delighted and swept back in time, with Shakespeare walking the cobblestone streets reciting odes, King Arthur retrieving Excalibur from the stone every two hours, and fantasy creatures ready to have their picture taken. The experience is nonstop fun, excitement, and good food. Adventure Land, the parent company, says it will be so, and it is.
    “How was your trip to the Village, my lady?” Henry asked as we walked past the first fountain toward the hatchet-throwing contest.
    “It went well, thank you. How is your uncle?” The monks were chanting in the Monastery Bakery, a