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The Watchmaker's

Lady

BY

Heather Massey

EXCERPT

Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, 1840

At half-past nine in the morning, the door to the shop of “Matthew J. Goddard, Watchmaker – Clock Repair” swung open, inviting in a blast of crisp November air.

Behind the main counter, Matthew glanced up from his oak rolltop bench, his right foot pausing over the flywheel treadle. A lady, obviously wealthy, stepped through the opening. She sashayed toward him, cloak and skirts rustling softly. A gleam of anticipation lit her hazel eyes.

Matthew openly studied her. He’d never seen her in town before. She was probably new to the area, or hailed from nearby Worcester. Many people were moving there, and often sought recreation in idyllic Shrewsbury.

The lady’s pine green bonnet had a single, wide bow. Cascades of spaniel curls framed her powdered face. Matthew’s gaze traveled over her high cheek bones and too-full lips before dropping to her cloak. Its dark, stylishly cut fabric covered her dress completely, but flashes of pine green trim peeked out from beneath the hem.

Matthew stood. He bowed slightly as the lady approached the counter. “Good day, Madam. How can I be of service?”

“You’re Mr. Goddard?” she asked breathlessly, her gaze darting about the shop.

“I am.”

Her gaze finally settled on his face. “Oh, thank goodness. I’m in the right place, then. My name is Mrs. Benjamin Rutherford. My husband and I recently moved here. We’re in the south end. Are you familiar with the area?”

Matthew nodded. He’d been born here. “Shrewsbury is a fine community. You made an excellent choice.”

“I couldn’t agree more. A…close friend and neighbor recommended you, quite highly, as a matter of fact.”

She produced a brown velvet reticule embroidered with flowers and opened the drawstrings. Her black-gloved fingers withdrew a pocket watch. This item she placed upon the glass countertop, a light clink echoing in the wake of her action. “It’s my husband’s watch. I accidentally dropped it, and now it doesn’t work.” She didn’t sound very remorseful.

Matthew picked up the piece and turned it around in his hands. The Vaucher Frères open-faced, rose gold pocket watch—he estimated 18 karats—was well-constructed. Indeed, it was a far cry from the low quality Swiss watches that had infiltrated the market these days. He opened a drawer behind the counter and pulled out some precision screwdrivers and tweezers. “Does your husband know you dropped it?” he murmured.

The lady blushed and looked down. “Not yet. I was hoping you might be able to repair it before he finds out.”

One corner of his mouth curled upward as he spread a piece of clean white linen in a tray and placed the tray on the counter. Working carefully, he removed the case. It took him only a moment to discover the source of the problem. “It’s not broken. The oil has dried up, however. I can lubricate it for you. When do you need it back?”

“Ah, within the hour, if you could. Don’t worry about the cost. I can compensate you handsomely for the rush work.” Mrs. Rutherford moistened her lips. They shone a bright pink in the lantern light.

“I can start immediately.”

She nodded. He showed her to a chair where she could sit and wait. Returning to his bench, he reached for a bottle of French clock oil, which in his opinion was the best around. The standard oiling only took about twenty minutes. He called Mrs. Rutherford back to the counter when he was finished.

Once again, her flickering gaze swept over the shop. It was as if she expected someone else to appear at any moment, or was looking for something.

Matthew gestured to the display case behind her. The walnut and glass shelving housed a collection of quality watches and jewelry. Some were unclaimed items he had previously repaired; others were undiscovered treasures he’d found at a bargain during his occasional travels. “May I interest you in some of my finest pieces? Perhaps your husband would like a monocle, or some diamond stud pins.”

Mrs. Rutherford gave them an obligatory, yet cursory glance. “They’re all lovely, but….”

Matthew braced his hands palm down upon the counter and regarded her expectantly. “Yes?”

She dropped her voice to a whisper as she met his piercing gaze. “Truth be told, I’m interested in your…other service.”

Matthew smiled warmly, knowing it would put her at ease. “Ah, yes. Well, it just so happens that I recently completed a new product. Would you like to see it?”

Mrs. Rutherford nodded eagerly. “I would, very much.”

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