Want to Give it a Try?
“Young Master Reinhardt, we’ve been expecting you. Thank you all for coming.”
We were guided to a salon-like room on the second floor.
The first floor had fabrics and clothes hanging on racks—looked like they also sold ready-made garments.
Mrs. Ayla brought over a stack of papers that seemed to be design sketches, along with several handbags.
“These are the gaucho suit designs you requested,” she said, handing the sketches to the ladies.
Then she came over to me.
“Young Master Reinhardt, this is a bag with an adjustable strap mechanism. But it doesn’t work very well with thick materials—do you have any ideas?” She asked, showing me the bag.
If I remembered right, the bag had two holes, with the middle part made separately? My memory was fuzzy, but I decided to sketch it anyway.
“I see… so, if you make the two holes and the middle section separately, then combine them. The current one’s flat, but maybe this would work better if it were more cylindrical?”
“Ah, sorry—that part’s better to discuss with Barton.”
“Understood. Thank you very much for your advice.”
The women were excitedly chatting—“Oh, this one’s lovely,” “That design’s nice too”—as they looked through the sketches.
It looked like it’d take a while.
“This might take some time. Mind if I step out for a bit?”
“Where are you going?”
“To the woodworking shop where everyone’s orders are being made.”
“I’d love to go, but I don’t have time. I’ll have to pass.”
“Reinhardt, I’ll come with you. There’s nothing for me to do here anyway…”
After letting them know we’d be back, we left the shop.
Inside the carriage, Raphael said,
“Reinhardt, you saved me. I didn’t know what to do with myself just sitting there for hours.”
“Yeah, I figured this would happen. Oh—looks like we’re here.”
“This doesn’t look like the woodworking shop,” Raphael said as we stepped out.
“Nope. This is a paper wholesaler.”
“A paper… for calendars?”
“Bingo.”
“Good to see you again, sir.”
“It’s been a while. You asked about thick paper suitable for watercolor painting, so I’ve prepared some samples in advance.”
“Thanks. Could I take a look right away?”
“Of course. Right this way.”
He brought out a sheet roughly the size of A3.
“If I ask for a specific size, can you cut them right away?”
“Yes, we can—but it’ll cost a bit more.”
“That’s fine. Could you make about fifty sheets, 15 centimeters square, as soon as possible?”
“Please wait a moment,” he said, leaving the room.
“Reinhardt, if this is for the woodworking shop to use as a sample, don’t you only need a few?”
“I’ve got another stop to make after this.”
“Another one? Where?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“......”
About twenty minutes later, the shopkeeper returned with the cut sheets. We took them and left.
“This place… is an orphanage?” Raphael asked.
“That’s right. Sorry for dropping in unannounced, Sister.”
“Oh no, not at all. Thanks to the Westland family, we’re now able to feed the children properly. We’re truly grateful,” she said, bowing her head.
We had arranged for the orphanage to handle things like printing and distributing the town’s newsletters, so they could earn their own income.
The children no longer wore patched-up clothes, and the formerly frail ones now looked about as healthy as ordinary kids.
It seemed the sister’s gratitude was sincere.
“I heard you wanted to speak with the ones in charge of the printing work, so I’ve called them.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate it if you stayed and listened too.”
“Of course.”
The room we entered was modest but spotless—not a speck of dust anywhere.
“We’re the ones doing the printing for the newsletters—Mike and Leon.”
“I’m Mike.”
“I’m Leon.”
Both stood and bowed nervously.
“I’m Reinhardt Westland, and this is my friend Raphael. Nice to meet you.”
We sat down on the sofa and got right to the point.
“Which one of you handles the illustrations?”
“That would be me,” said a boy with reddish hair streaked with gold—he looked a bit older than me.
“This is Leon,” the sister added helpfully.
“Do you have any of your drawings with you, Leon?”
“Yes, here.”
He showed us two pictures—one of a cat and another of a bird—both seemingly drawn with a quill pen.
The cat was drawn from the front, and it was so cute I couldn’t help saying so aloud. Each strand of fur was drawn carefully, giving it a soft, fluffy look.
If he had a pencil, he could probably add even more warmth—but to get this quality with just a quill was impressive.
The bird, perched on a tree in the orphanage courtyard, was also well done. Raphael gave an appreciative hum as he looked.
“Actually, I came today with a request,” I said, taking out one of the 15-centimeter cards.
I also showed them a sheet of straw paper I’d prepared earlier—divided horizontally into two halves: the top for an illustration, and the bottom for the calendar grid of weekdays and dates.
“I’d like you to print the bottom half—the calendar part—with a woodblock design, and then paint the top half with watercolor. Ideally, the gridlines would be done in light ink, and the letters and numbers in dark black. It’ll probably be tricky at first, so you can start with just black ink.
So—want to give it a try?”
What do you think about this chapter?
