He gave a huge grin of broken teeth and said, âI no charge for water.â
âDonât forget we owe you for a bag of rice,â Eiko said, opening her purse.
âYou not worry,â the man said. He put on a pair of small, round glasses and flipped through a worn leather journal next to the cash register. âI have husbandâs name in book.â
âYou can cross it out,â Eiko said as she placed several one-dollar bills on the counter. âWe keep our accounts paid.â
The man shrugged and reached for the pencil behind his ear.
Her father peeked through the door. âReady to head out?â
Oakville Wood Specialities, a brick and concrete building sheathed in corrugated metal, sat beside railroad tracks surrounded by piles of logs. Trails of white steam rose from several roof stacks as they approached. Even though it was Saturday morning, the factory teemed with workers. Men moved back and forth, loading the boxcars.
âMr. Downey,â Michiko asked, âhow many baskets do you need?â
âIâm here for the sawdust,â he said. âWeâll be needing plenty of that soon, for the bulbs. I get a good price on firewood too. Theyâre happy to get rid of the cores after the veneer is gone. â
Mr. Downey led Michiko and her father up the gravelled drive to the main building. âAll the baskets are made by hand,â he said. He greeted a short, dark-haired man with a handshake. âHello, Hank,â he said. âMind if these folks have a look around?â
Hank wore a diamond-patterned wool vest over his long-sleeved shirt. His scuffed work boots seemed out of place with his well-creased flannel pants.
âGo on in,â he said, looking Sam up and down. âYou looking for work?â
Mr. Downey gave the man a small jab with his elbow. âKnock it off,â he said and then turned to Sam. âMost of the young men donât want to spend their life working on a farm,â he said. âBetween this factory and the war, itâs hard to find men to work the fields.â
Michiko couldnât help but think of her Uncle Ted. He was always interested in anything made of wood, and Uncle Kaz was having a great deal of trouble finding the right job. If they got both got jobs at the basket factory, the whole family could be together again. âWe know some people â¦â she said, but Sam grabbed her hand. The pressure he put on her fingers told her he was unhappy with her interruption. âThis is adult business,â he said to her in a low voice. âYou stick to kid business.â
The four of them stepped through the large-planked doors that stood ajar. Inside, dust motes danced through the rays of sunshine that rested on the heads of the men working at tables.
Several worked at a machine shaving logs into long thin strips. It reminded Michiko of her mother preparing potatoes. Others carried bundles of the peeled wood to a huge vat of steaming water. Men at a long work table shaped wet strips over small wooden blocks and hammered in tacks. Then they positioned a strip of wood along the top edge and stapled it.
âEven though berry season is over,â Hank said, as he picked up a small box with a wide square opening, âwe got to keep up the stock.â He turned the box over, examined its base, nodded, and handed it back.
They moved to the men at the next table. For several minutes, Michiko watched the workers mould pieces of veneer over metal forms. Itâs as if they are doing origami with wood, she thought to herself. After adding a solid oval piece to the bottom and stapling inner and outer bands to the top, another sweet-smelling wooden basket joined the pile.
âIâll take my usual order of six quarts for my apple crop,â Mr. Downey said. âAnd Iâll need some pints for my strawberries.â
âIâll put it on your bill,â Hank replied as they moved from the