Snake in the Glass Read Free Page A

it.”
    “Did you get to see anything else?”
    “A bit. I went to Waterford to see how they handle glass—it’s a very different technique, and it’s not really my style, but it was interesting. And I spent a day or two in Dublin—some gorgeous collections in the museums there. That’s about it.” A wave of fatigue washed over me. “Listen, Nessa, I really have to crash. I’m sure there’s business stuff we should go over, but my brain is fried right now. I’ll be down bright and early in the morning, okay?”
    “Not a problem, my dear. You catch up on your sleep. I’m sure things will look better in the morning.”
    Half an hour later, the dogs walked, fed, and watered; myself scrubbed and tucked in, I was ready for oblivion. But my last conscious thought was, Poor Cam . . . .

Chapter 2
    Iron impurities in the sand and limestone used in glassmaking can discolor the glass.
    I awakened before dawn—my internal time clock was still operating on Irish time, which was hours ahead of Tucson. I tried to calculate how many and gave up. But at least I felt ready to take on the day and whatever came with it. When I stumbled out of my bedroom, I noted that there were more boxes stacked in the living area, so apparently Cam must’ve arrived while I was dead to the world. His bedroom door was shut, so on tiptoe, I did the necessary stuff, fed and walked the dogs, and went down to the studio, grateful for a chance to take a fresh look at things without distractions.
    There was one big issue at the top of my to-do list. When I had first opened my studio, I had plowed just about all my available capital into buying the building, which I had figured would provide everything I needed—a roomy studio, a corner shop with good visibility, and living quarters above. Of course, the so-called living quarters had consisted of a single open space with brick walls and a poured concrete floor, but since it was just me living there, I could build it out as time and money allowed. The main living areas were still pretty much a single space, but I had carved out two bedrooms and installed a spacious bathroom between them. It suited me, and Fred and Gloria when they had come along.
    Since money had been tight, I’d made do with a lot of secondhand glassblowing equipment in the studio. Some items were essential: a midsize pot furnace that held a crucible to melt and hold the glass at the right temperature, a couple of glory holes to work the individual glass pieces, an annealer to cool the finished pieces. A number of blowpipes, a pipe warmer. Benches to work at could be improvised, as could some of the other bits and pieces, like water buckets for the wooden tools. Some of the bigger pieces I had bought used, including the furnace. I’d replaced the relatively fragile pot inside the furnace more than once, but then the outer portion—the insulating castable refractory, to use the precise term—had cracked, and that meant it was time to replace the whole piece before things got any worse.
    I’d had my eye on a larger, freestanding furnace, which would cut my energy costs, but it had seemed beyond my modest means. Then a nice little windfall had fallen into my lap, so for once I had some money in the bank. The trip to Ireland had been my treat to myself (and Allison); the new furnace was a business investment—a five-figure one. I had ordered it and entrusted its installation to Nessa’s oversight, but now it was up to me to break it in. Even if it worked perfectly, I would still have to get the feel of it, find out where its sweet spots were, and how quickly it heated glass. That was one of the reasons I had scheduled the installation for this particular time period: I knew that business would be slow—more like nonexistent—during the annual Tucson Gem Show, and I had planned to use that period as my break-in time.
    The world-renowned Gem Show, or to give its full title, the Tucson Gem, Mineral and Fossil Showcase, is a wondrous