The Master Craftsman, page 10
Zak’s eyes lit up. “Yes, of course! Would you like to come in?”
Ava nodded and stepped inside the room. She looked around Zak’s apartment and shook her head. It was meticulously clean, though terribly decorated. The brown leather sofa had bright orange pillows stacked neatly on each side and a blue knit blanket slung over the back. In the corner, a dark gray chair sat next to a glass side table on which three magazines were splayed in a semicircle. A large tapestry hung on the wall, brightly colored and patterned in hues that clashed with every other color in the room. His apartment smelled like Pine-Sol, and a vacuum stood against the wall leading into the small kitchen area, which Ava imagined was equally spotless.
“You cleaning today?” she asked jokingly.
“Yes, of course,” Zak said, his face sincere. “It’s Sunday.”
Ava laughed but stopped quickly when she realized that Zak hadn’t been joking.
“So, um, what’s with the carpet on the wall?” she asked, jutting her chin toward the tapestry hanging behind him.
Zak glanced back at it, then turned back to Ava. “Oh, that was my grandparents’. They immigrated to the US from India fifty years ago, and the only thing they brought with them, besides the clothes on their back and their children, was that tapestry. My dad gave it to me to remind me of my heritage.”
“Oh. Cool.” She stood with her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides for a long minute, trying to figure out how to redirect the conversation.
Zak motioned her to come in and sit on the couch. Ava lowered herself slowly and sat on the edge while Zak settled into the gray chair across from her, crossing his legs casually.
“What’s on your mind, Ava?”
She studied him for a minute before speaking. “So, you work with computers, right?”
Zak nodded. “I do. I work with data analysis and things of that nature.”
“Right. So, you’re a tech guy then, yeah? Like, would you call yourself a wiz on the computer?”
Zak tilted his head and smiled. “I don’t know if I would use that precise term, but yes, I have a very good understanding of technology and how to work with it.”
Ava smiled back at him and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
“Awesome. What would you say if I told you I had a very unique job for you that may or may not pay very much, but could potentially give you the experience of a lifetime? Oh, and it’s top secret so you couldn’t tell anyone what you were doing.”
Zak set his iced tea down on a leather coaster on the table next to his chair and studied Ava. “I’d say you’ve piqued my interest.”
St. Petersburg, 1905
Karl reached over and clicked the light on above his worktable. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he took in the stillness of the workshop. It was cold tonight, and his fingers felt achy and sore from a long day—a day that wasn’t over yet. Not for him, anyway.
Pulling his watch from his pocket, Karl glanced at the time. Midnight. Fatigue and strain tugged at the muscles in his neck and shoulders, but he would brush it all off. There was something he needed to do.
Sitting back in his chair, Karl allowed himself a moment to admire the workshop. He knew he was good at what he did, managing employees and creating fine pieces of art. He’d made it a point to run his shop in such a way that his craftsmen wanted to give their best. His standards were high, but his people didn’t mind.
Part of his secret was as simple as showing his employees a little respect. He made it clear that their work was valued and that they were a part of the Fabergé team because they had earned that position. Because of this, his craftsmen willingly worked long hours. He didn’t run his company like a factory, utilizing labor as a means to an end. Rather, he approached the House of Fabergé as a family business, where every single person employed held intrinsic value. This meant that their time was valued, and Karl paid handsomely for overtime. It was not uncommon for his jewelers and artists to work until 11:00 at night, which was why he was only now alone at midnight.
Karl opened the box on the table in front of him, pulling out the beginnings of his own project. He’d told no one what he was doing. Truthfully, he didn’t even know why he was doing it. He supposed there was something calming about working with his hands, about creating something from start to finish on his own.
The reality that many did not know was that Karl had little to do with the actual creation of most of the pieces in his shop. He was the visionary and the boss. He came up with many of the ideas, and he curated the environment for work, but his craftsmen were the real magic makers. They were the ones bringing the designs to life. With the demands of running the business so high, Karl rarely worked with his hands anymore. There was just too much at stake.
Lately, however, his hands itched to create. Somehow this act of building something from the simple vision in his head offered him the space to process all that had transpired and helped him work out how he felt about it.
He set the egg that he’d begun designing onto the table and leaned forward, studying its shape. He’d placed his creation in the capable hands of Alexander Petroff a few days earlier. His chief enameler had asked no questions about it. Such was the environment Karl had so generously crafted here in his workshop. There was infinite value placed in the skill of each craftsman, and the knowledge that they all brought this skill to the table allowed them to work alongside one another without the need to know or understand the intention for each project brought to life.
Petroff had done what he did so well, expertly covering the golden egg in an opaque enamel so that the gold was visible just beneath the smooth surface. The egg looked so real, as if with a mere tap on the side of the table one could crack it open and see its insides. Karl studied it with great pleasure, the familiar sense of wonder washing over him as he saw a vision begin to take shape.
Gently, Karl pulled the two halves of the egg apart and looked inside at the hollowed-out section he had carved into the gold. His fingers cramped just remembering the process of creating that space. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.
Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, Karl reached down to the bottom drawer of the desk and unlocked it. Inside was another metal box, also locked. Using a different key, Karl opened that box and set it on the desk in front of him. Inside the box were diamonds, most of them very small, all clustered together in a mound of enticing sparkle. It was now time to take his design to the next level.
Setting up his magnifying mirror, Karl slowly and methodically picked out the diamonds he would use to create a lattice-work pattern around the exterior of the egg. This part of the work was tedious, with each diamond needing to be evenly spaced and set. Karl knew this part of the process would take him the most time, but time was all he had right now. And he needed to think.
Drawing in a deep breath, Karl placed the first diamond at the base of the egg. All the diamonds would start from this one place, fanning their way out and around the egg with precision and careful attention to detail. This very first stone set the course.
Karl let his mind drift as he gingerly picked up the next stone with his small pliers. He wondered when the first stone of his life had been set—the one that had set the trajectory of his days leading to this quiet moment in the lamplit dark of a workshop he had built into an empire.
Perhaps his course had been set before he was even born. His father had been a jeweler. Gustav Fabergé could never have known how far his son would take the humble company he started. But he’d known his son had a natural talent for the artistry of the jewelry making business. This was why he’d sent Karl, as a young man, to the Dresden Arts and Crafts School.
Karl smiled faintly as he thought back to his years of study, when jewelry making and artistry had been fanciful and thrilling. He’d felt an equal measure of longing to both create something grand and to also please his father.
Gustav Fabergé had been a soft-spoken man. He was kind and quiet, working methodically and with only the smallest amount of pride. Mostly, he was humble about his own gifts and talents. But Karl knew his father was proud of his firstborn son. Gustav tried not to let Karl see how he felt, but every once in a while, Karl would catch a glimpse of his father studying him from the far side of the room, and he could sense Gustav’s pleasure.
“Your papa could sit and watch you work all day long,” Hiskias used to say to Karl years after Gustav had passed away. Hiskias had been Gustav’s dearest friend for many years, and when it came time for Karl to apprentice in the business, Hiskias was the only person Gustav trusted with his talented son.
“Never met a man more taken with his boy in all my life,” Hiskias would say with a shake of his head, and Karl would nod stoically in return, but inside he felt his heart do a little turn. There was, perhaps, nothing more thrilling to a young man than to feel the pleasure of his father.
Karl set the second diamond gently, eyeing through his small magnifying glass the exact placement and distance from the first. He sifted through the diamonds to find the perfect stone for the third placement, taking a deep breath as he prepared to set it. A crick in his neck caused him a moment’s pause, and he leaned back and closed his eyes. Immediately the image was there, the vision he’d seen that his hands must now somehow bring to fruition.
Karl first caught a glimpse of this vision a few weeks after that wretched Sunday when the bodies lay splayed across Nevsky Prospekt, the image of the crumpled child beneath the tree settling into his subconscious like a terrible nightmare that captured the mind and refused to let go. He’d shot up in bed the first time he saw the vision, his hand clutched to his chest. He waited for the moment to pass, for the picture in his head to fade into obscurity like most dreams are wont to do, but this one never faded away.
It returned, over and over. While he slept, while he ate, while he bathed, sometimes in the middle of conversations, the vision chased him. It was as though he wasn’t meant to catch this particular creation so much as it was meant to capture him. He finally gave up trying to fight it and pulled out his sketchpad, capturing each detail with such specifications that it took him by surprise. He hadn’t realized how precise the dream had been.
And now here he sat, trying to bring it all to life, but for what, he simply didn’t know. Karl sighed, his hand poised over the egg-shaped form before him, wishing desperately that he could talk to his father again.
A rustling sound caused him to freeze, his head turning toward the shadows just beyond where the light over his table reached. In one quick motion, he laid the egg back into the cloth-lined box and shut the lid, pushing it to the side. He tossed another cloth over the diamonds on the table and rested his hands lightly on top of it.
The door below had been locked, he was sure of it. He checked himself before walking upstairs.
“Is somebody there?” he said, his voice coming out like a croak.
“Indeed,” came the reply. “It is your wife.”
Karl breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders lowering. Augusta stepped into the edge of the light, her long robe cinched tight around her thick waist. Karl rubbed his eyes as she stepped closer, pushing the cloth-covered diamonds to the side and covering them as best he could with his arm.
“What are you doing down here so late?” Augusta asked. Sleep still lined her eyes as she squinted at her husband in the dim, orange light.
“I’m thinking.” He hesitated for a brief moment before reluctantly adding, “And I am working.”
“A new design?” Augusta’s eyebrows raised as she studied the way her husband shifted in his chair, his arm awkwardly hiding whatever was on the table behind him.
“Yes.” He looked at Augusta and felt a pang of regret wash over him. She was a wonderful woman. Early in their courtship and marriage, she had captivated him with her intelligence and wit. He wished he felt a longing for her the way he once had. She was kind and thoughtful, perhaps a little rough around the edges, but that had been what he’d found most attractive when they were first introduced so many years ago.
Karl glanced back up at Augusta and offered her a gentle smile. He did still care for her. She had given him all of his sons, and she’d been a fine mother, doting on her family without wavering throughout the years. This alone gave him a deep-felt love and respect for her. But it hadn’t kept him home.
Amalia’s face materialized before him then, blinding him from seeing Augusta, as had been happening for many years now. What he felt for Amalia had also been love, the one his mind and body ached for when they were parted. It wasn’t fair to Augusta, he knew this, and he felt terribly for it. Maintaining his relationship with Amalia for so long had not been wise. It had put incredible strain on his relationships with his sons and had compromised his integrity more than once. And yet, he couldn’t seem to get his heart back from the Austrian actress who had stolen it right from his chest.
“Who could you possibly be working for this late at night?” Augusta asked. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is it something for the tsar?”
Karl sighed. “Eventually, perhaps. But right now, this is something for me.”
“Oh, imagine that. You doing something for yourself.” The edge in her voice cut through the space between them.
Karl leaned back and looked up at his wife with apologetic eyes. “I’ll be there soon, my dear,” he said quietly.
She stared back at him, blinking hard, the corners of her eyes glinting in the light. She nodded and turned, her feet whispering back into the shadows and disappearing before Karl’s eyes.
He turned slowly back to the box on the edge of the table and opened it, looking at the enamel-covered golden egg.
“Who is it for?” he wondered out loud. “Perhaps the better question is what does it mean?” The words were swallowed up without hint of an answer to follow.
Present Day
Ava stepped outside, pulling her suitcase behind her. She’d packed everything she thought she might need for an extended stay away that may or may not include time spent internationally. Her stomach flipped with nervous excitement at the thought of flying over the ocean, and she found herself smiling as she turned the lock on her door.
She walked down the stairs and drew in a deep breath. It was a perfect Florida morning. The air smelled like fresh rain. The hint of a breeze floated past Ava, and the cool morning nipped at her skin.
“Hey, Ava!”
With a start, Ava turned to see Zak standing in his doorway. He wore a red checkered robe over loose-fitting pants and held in his hand two mugs of coffee. He reached over and handed one to Ava, who took it reluctantly.
“Hey, Zak. You look . . . casual.” She took a sip of the coffee and nearly choked. It was strong and scalding hot.
“Yes, well, I spent a lot of time last night thinking about what you told me,” Zak said. He leaned against the doorjamb of his apartment and studied her. “I even did my own research on the Imperial family and on Fabergé.”
Ava raised her eyebrows. “Wow. And?”
Zak smiled and sipped his coffee. “Well, I’ve decided I have nothing to lose in helping you.”
“You’ll lose your job.”
Zak shrugged. “I don’t like that job. And besides, I can always get another job in data analysis, but I don’t think I’ll ever be offered the chance to go on a treasure hunt for a lost piece of art by one of the most famous jewelers of all time.” He cleared his throat and shifted his eyes to his mug. “I also don’t know if I’d ever again have the opportunity to travel the world with a beautiful lady.”
Ava sputtered as he spoke those last words. The two stood in awkward silence for a long minute before Ava finally spoke.
“Well, then,” she said. “It sounds like you’ve made up your mind.” She offered Zak a stiff smile, and he grinned in return.
“Indeed. I’ll call my boss this morning and put in my notice, and I will start making necessary plans.”
Ava nodded. “Sounds good. I’m heading back to Lakeland, so I’ll start gathering all the info you need to come on board as our tech guy, and I’ll keep you posted on timelines. If we need to leave quickly, will you be able to get away?”
“For you, Ava? I will do anything.”
“Oh, um, well . . .” She coughed. Turning, she saw her mom’s car pull into the parking lot. She turned back to Zak and handed him her coffee mug.
“Thanks for the coffee. I’ll be in touch. You have a passport, right?” Ava furrowed her brow, realizing she should have asked him this question earlier.
“Yes, of course. I am ready to leave at your beck and call.” He grinned as Ava backed away.
“Okay, Zak. Thanks for jumping on board!”
Carol slowed to a stop in the parking lot and tossed Ava an inquisitive look. Zak raised his mug up to her in greeting. Carol rolled the window down and waved back.
“Good morning, Zak,” she said with a bemused smile.
“And a good morning to you, Miss Carol! Ava and I were just speaking of this wonderful adventure we will all be heading out on soon.”
Carol raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really?”
Ava shot her mom a look, then turned back to Zak. “Bye, Zak!” She pulled her suitcase to Carol’s car and tossed it in the back seat.
Zak watched with a broad smile. “Alright, partners!” he called out as Ava slid into the car. “I’ll see you soon!”
Ava pulled the door shut and offered him an awkward wave.
Carol chuckled as she backed the car up and drove out of the parking lot. “That was your big idea last night, huh?”
Ava groaned. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Oh, he’s a nice guy,” Carol said with a laugh. “A little strange and clearly smitten with you, but sweet.”
Ava glanced at her mom. “Did you call your boss?”
Carol nodded. “I told him I needed to take an extended leave of absence to deal with some personal family matters. He wasn’t thrilled, but he ultimately gave me the green light.” She glanced at Ava. “I’ve got a three-month window here, and then I’ll have to either return home or quit my job.”
