Chapter 8
Champaign, Illinois
WELL, HERE WE ARE,” THEIR driver Tom Jenkins said to Emma’s grandfather as he parked his vehicle in front of the mattress store two days later. “I’ll be here in the vehicle waiting, but you folks take your time looking. You’ll want to make sure you get just the right mattress.”
“You got that right,” Grandpa replied. “And it might take us a while to find one that we both think is comfortable.” He slid out of the front passenger seat and opened the back door where Emma sat with her grandmother.
“Emma, you may as well come in with us, because we might need some help choosing the right one.”
Emma didn’t think her opinion should matter that much, but she agreed to go in and got out of the vehicle behind Grandma.
If she had stated what she really preferred, Emma would have said that she would rather wait in Tom’s station wagon so she could take a nap.
She hadn’t slept well the night before, lying awake till well past midnight, thinking about Ivan and how kind he’d been to her Monday evening.
He’d been especially gracious about the meal she had ruined, and Ivan hadn’t judged her when she’d revealed to him that she couldn’t cook and had come to her grandparents’ house to learn how to cook and sew.
Although Ivan had been too polite to say so, he probably thought there was something wrong with Emma.
After all, the young women Emma knew, including her sister and her best friend, Arlene Lehman, had already honed their cooking skills, and most likely they could sew without issues.
Ivan’s sisters and any other women he knew who were around Emma’s age probably had cooking and sewing skills mastered as well.
When Grandma nudged Emma’s arm, her thoughts dissolved, and she responded, “Okay, jah, I’ll offer my opinion if you need it.”
As soon as the three of them entered the building, a middle-aged man rushed over to them and greeted her grandparents. “Good morning, folks. Welcome to the Mattress Shop. What can I do to help you?”
Grandpa gave the man a hearty handshake. “We came to see about getting a new mattress for our bed.”
“Well, you’re in the right place. What size is your bed?”
“It’s a queen. We used to have a double bed, but the older we got, the more crowded it seemed.” Grandpa chuckled. “Guess when a person gets to be our age, they flop around more and take up the space.”
“I should be able to help you, because we have several queen styles.” He looked at Grandma and smiled. “Did you know that queen-sized beds have been available since the mid-1940s?”
Grandma shook her head. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“Yes indeed,” he said. “They were actually introduced here in the United States in 1925 but didn’t become popular until later. By the 1950s and into the ’60s, more and more people were purchasing queen-sized beds.”
Emma stifled a yawn. All this talk about beds was making her sleepy. She wished the salesman would stop talking and just show her grandparents the mattresses they’d come to see.
“How long have you had your current mattress?” the man asked, looking first at Grandpa and then turning to face Grandma.
“Too long,” she said with furrowed brows. “My back’s been hurting lately, and I’m sure it’s the fault of our bed, because the mattress feels saggy to me.”
“We’ve had the bed a good many years, all right,” Grandpa spoke up. His gaze shifted to Grandma. “Wouldn’t you say so, Luellen?”
She nodded. “I can’t remember the exact date that we purchased it, because the time has gone so quickly. All I know is we need a new one, which is why we are here.”
The salesman rubbed his hands briskly together. “Yes, indeed. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you what we have.”
The three of them headed off to another part of the store, and Emma, not knowing what else to do, trailed behind.
Looking at mattresses wasn’t very exciting, but this morning at breakfast, Grandma had promised Emma that when they returned to Arthur, they would stop by Ida Mae’s house to talk about her teaching Emma how to quilt.
Emma was glad she wouldn’t have to wait until a day when Ida Mae was working at the fabric store again, although she had enjoyed going there and seeing the hand-stitched quilts on display.
“Now this one is an innerspring mattress,” Emma heard the salesman say as she approached one of the beds on sale.
“A mattress like this uses a system of coiled springs for support, with a layer of foam added on top for comfort.” He gestured to Grandpa.
“Feel free to lie on the bed so you can get a feel for the mattress and see if it’s comfortable enough for you. ”
“I think my wife oughta go first, since she’s the one complaining of a backache every morning.”
“That’s all right,” Grandma said. “I’ll wait till you’ve tried it out.” Her cheeks were a little flushed, and Emma wondered if the thought of lying on a bed here in the store, for anyone who might be shopping to stare at her, made Grandma feel uncomfortable.
It would me, Emma thought as she stood beside Grandma, watching as Grandpa reclined on the mattress.
“Ahh … this is not bad. Not too bad at all.” He stretched his arms out to the sides, then held his hand up to his mouth and yawned. “Oh boy … just lying here’s enough to make me feel tired. Sure wish I could take a little snooze.”
Grandma flapped a hand in his direction. “Don’t be silly, Marlin. You know you can’t take a nap here in the store.”
“Guess you’re right.” He propped himself up and got off the bed. “It’s your turn now, because we can’t buy a new mattress without you trying it first.”
“Okay.” Grandma handed Emma her purse. “Would you mind holding this for me?”
“I don’t mind at all,” Emma responded, clasping the handbag by the handles. She watched as Grandma got up on the bed and stretched out on the mattress, holding the sides of her skirt.
“This isn’t bad,” Grandma said. “I’m not sinking into it like our current mattress, but maybe we should try a few others so we have something to compare it with.”
“That’s a good idea,” the man who’d been helping them agreed. “It’s always smart to try more than one mattress.”
When Grandma got off the bed, he led them to one with a different kind of mattress. Emma’s grandparents tried out several mattresses, while the salesman described the comforts and structural support of each one. He was obviously quite eager for a sale.
Emma’s grandparents spent the better part of an hour considering their options, while Emma stood quietly holding her grandmother’s purse.
She wished this process would go quicker and they could be on their way back to Arthur.
Knowing that they would soon be going to Ida Mae’s, Emma decided to remain in the moment without complaint, though her mind kept straying to whether she’d be able to learn the technical aspects of quilting.
Guess I’m being selfish, Emma told herself. Choosing the right mattress is important, so I need to be patient.
Arthur
It was lunchtime for Ivan, and his turn to eat in the back room, so he figured his dad wouldn’t mind if he worked on the old clock he’d come home with Monday night.
Before Ivan had departed the Herschbergers’ home, Marlin had asked Ivan to take the clock with him and see if he could get it running again.
The kindly man had offered to pay Ivan for his time, even if it ended up that he couldn’t fix the antiquated item.
Of course, Ivan had said he wouldn’t charge anything if he was unable to get the clock working again, and if he did manage to fix it, the fee would be small.
Sure hope I can repair this cherished clock, Ivan thought as he held a magnifying glass in one hand while examining the inside of the clock.
After a brief check, Ivan realized that several places were gummed up, a good indicator the mechanism had been oiled too much.
It would have to be taken out, cleaned, and relubricated, but the first step was to remove the movement.
He’d just begun inspecting it when his father wandered into the room.
“You about done with lunch yet?” Papa eyed the object on the table.
“Guess not. Doesn’t look like you even have your lunch box out.
” His lips flattened for a few seconds, and then he opened his mouth and spoke again.
“Whose clock is it this time, and why is it more important than eating your middaagesse?”
“I did eat part of my lunch, but it was before I began working on this clock. It belongs to Marlin Herschberger.”
“Jah, well, I think you oughta work on this relic on your own time. I am not paying you to fix people’s junk.”
“I thought my lunch break was my own time, Papa. You said before that it was okay for me to work on clocks at the harness shop as long as it didn’t interfere with my working hours.”
Papa squinted while rubbing his forehead. “You’re right, I did say that, but I’ve changed my mind. I think it’s best if you find a place in your bedroom to do that kind of thing.”
“Whatever you say.” Ivan picked up the clock, set it back in the box he’d brought it in, and put it in the closet where he kept his personal things.
He set aside his father’s increasing demands for the moment and redirected his attention to his work, for there would be plenty of time later to find a solution for the vintage clock’s repair.
Ivan wasn’t thrilled that his dad had gone back on his word, but for now at least, he needed this job and wasn’t about to ruffle his father’s feathers any more than he already had.
Someday, he planned to open his own clock shop and become self-sufficient.
Until that day, however, Ivan needed to cooperate with whatever his father said.