None of the other employees quit, but no experienced painters had applied for the vacated position, either. Each night, Mr. Kaestner and Mr. Tobarth worked late in an attempt to meet the demands. Though I expressed my willingness to join them, Mr. Kaestner always turned down my offer. I don’t think Mr. Tobarth agreed with the decision, but he didn’t argue. Mr. Lundgren had finished giving thanks for our meal on Friday evening when Mrs. Wilson pulled a note from her apron pocket and passed it across the tureen of lumpy gravy. “Mr. Galloway’s carriage driver brought this for you, Carrie. He said he’d stop by tomorrow morning for your response.” Mrs. Wilson’s clear blue eyes remained riveted on the sealed envelope. “Thank you, Mrs. Wilson.” I placed it on the table beside my plate. “We can wait until you’ve read it,” the older woman said. Her voice exuded such anticipation that I couldn’t deny her. I slid my finger beneath the seal and withdrew the note. “It’s an invitation to supper after work on Saturday evening and to church on Sunday morning.
What do You think about The Carousel Painter (2009)?
