By Susan Vreeland
It’s 1893, and on the Chicago World’s reasonable, Louis convenience Tiffany makes his debut with a luminous exhibition of cutting edge stained-glass home windows that he hopes will earn him a spot at the overseas creative degree. yet behind the curtain in his big apple studio is the freethinking Clara Driscoll, head of his women’s department, who conceives of and designs the majority of the enduring leaded-glass lamps for which Tiffany will lengthy be remembered. by no means publicly said, Clara struggles together with her hope for creative acceptance and the doubtless insurmountable demanding situations that she faces as a qualified girl. She additionally yearns for romance and companionship, and is dedicated in several how one can 5 males, together with Tiffany, who enforces a strict coverage: He doesn't hire married ladies. eventually, Clara needs to make a decision what makes her happiest—the expert international of her arms or the non-public international of her heart.
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Additional info for Clara and Mr. Tiffany
It’ll make you feel a mite better,” Miss Owens said. “Start the praties and beans around, Maggie. We have a new boarder. Mrs. Clara Driscoll. She’s in George’s old room. ” “Good thing, unless she likes little Egyptian alligators painted on the walls,” replied a matronly woman with long earlobes, whose cheeks were etched with a fretwork of finely penned wrinkles. “Much to my dismay, Mrs. ” Ah, the sad, curly-haired one must be Dudley. Definitely a Southern twang, unless it was put on to be funny.
The splotch on Mr. Mitchell’s cheek in the shape of Africa was redder than usual. ” “The union has to whip up the spirit of strike,” the elder Tiffany said. ” My mind did a flip, seeing this man looking as though he stepped straight out of the Bible talking about a labor strike. “We can move slowly in negotiation to forestall it,” Mr. Mitchell said. “It’s the worst possible time. ” “It doesn’t matter. The experiments in iridescent blown glass can go on regardless. ” “Don’t be stubborn, son. Let that lie.
There were four men, three women, and an empty chair next to Dudley Carpenter, who kept looking behind him through the arch to the parlor. “He’ll be along, Dudley,” Miss Owens assured him. “Will Mr. ” Mrs. Hackley asked. ” She wasn’t wasting any time in zeroing in on the suspicion attached to any woman my age living alone. “There is no Mr. ” Mr. Hackley asked. “Yes. ” “Polishing silver, I should guess,” Mrs. Hackley declared authoritatively. ” “It can’t be selling jewelry. The sales clerks are all men,” she said.
Clara and Mr. Tiffany by Susan Vreeland