Pane and Suffering Read Free Page B

class,” blurted the pale-faced teen. He looked down at the floor. “Mr. Webb told me I could attend this class. He promised me his apprentices don’t have to pay.”
    Okay, here’s the last student. How on earth could I forget about the apprentice? This must be Jacob. Dad was wildly enthusiastic about his talent, raving in fact. He said Jacob reminded him of me at eighteen. But, really, where is Hugh?
    Savannah pointed to the remaining vacant work space. “It’s no problem. You see we have plenty of room.”
    â€œI’ve been working with Mr. Webb and Mr. Trevor.” The young man’s eyes widened to owl-sized intensity.
    â€œYou must be Jacob. Mr. Webb told me so much about you, I feel like we’re already friends.” She pressed her hand over her heart. It was so like her dad to take this awkward fledgling under his wing as an apprentice. “My name is Savannah Webb. I’m Mr. Webb’s daughter.”
    He gulped and nodded vigorously, then stepped forward to solemnly shake her hand. “My name is Jacob Underwood. Pleased to meet you.”
    She smiled. “Dad’s apprentices are always invited to classes. Go ahead and get yourself settled.” Savannah guided him to the remaining worktable.
    â€œWhere’s Mr. Trevor?” Jacob perched on the work stool with his feet resting on the bottom rung and placed his backpack on his lap without letting go of the straps.
    She moved back to the instructor station. “Mr. Trevor is delayed and I’m filling in until he arrives. Now, where was I?”
    Amanda launched her plump hand into the air like a rocket. “You were telling us about the origins of stained glass.”
    â€œYes. As I said, they crafted the colored glass into windows or objects held together by strips of lead and then supported by a rigid frame. The oldest known stained glass window was pieced together using ancient glass from an archaeological dig.”
    â€œWhat did she say?” One of the twins leaned into the other’s ear, whispering loud enough for everyone to look back at them.
    Faith flushed from her throat to the roots of her white hair and whispered even louder, “Turn on your hearing aid, Rachel. You’ve forgotten again.”
    â€œOops,” muttered Rachel, turning the tiny volume control up with her polished blood red fingernail until there was a high-pitched squeal.
    Gotcha! Rachel wears nail polish. Faith doesn’t.
    â€œNow, it’s too loud!” Faith frowned. “Turn it down and be quiet.”
    Rachel adjusted the volume and ducked her head in a sheepish grin to everyone. “I’m ready now.”
    Savannah started again. “First things first. Before we start learning to cut glass, make sure your work surface is clean and clear of debris. If even the smallest glass chip is under your work, it will break in the wrong place and ruin your day. The best thing is to use a very soft brush on the entire work surface before you start anything. A well-worn paintbrush works great, but Dad always used an old drafting table brush.”
    He gave me mine when I took my first class. It’s back in Seattle. She swept her worktable clear and spread newspaper on the work surface.
    â€œI want everyone to take out their clear windowpane glass for scoring and breaking practice.” She held up a small nine-by-nine-inch square piece for everyone to see. “The green piece of glass is for your project. Just put that aside.”
    â€œOuch!” Arthur dropped his practice pane onto the worktable in a shattering crash. “I cut myself.” He squeezed his thumb until a large drop formed, stuck it in his mouth, and began to suck the blood.
    â€œDon’t, honey bunny. It’ll get infected. You have to be ready for the next concert.” Nancy dived a hand into her purse, hopped off her stool, pulled Arthur’s thumb out of his mouth with a soft pop, and pressed a