Toy-Maker's Apprentice: A Novella for the Young, and the Young-At-Heart

By James R. Poyner

IN JUST ONE year, Jack Knob has gone from being a young man beginning to realize his dreams to one whose desperate thoughts are aimed at helping his struggling family. Max Prentice, who has had his eye on Jack for sometime, is a successful toy-maker and the owner of a toy store in Chicago. Yet, when Jack's desperate thoughts begin to turn into action, Max intervenes, shows Jack the error in his thinking, and hires Jack to be his apprentice. Indeed, all is going well, until illness confines Max to bed and results in his wife Mildred running the store. With little remorse, her first act is to fire Jack. To learn what happens to Jack, Mildred, and even Max, turn the knob and enter the shop.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 15, 2004
• ISBN: 9781465325822

James R. Poyner

Chicagoan James R. Poyner has spent much of his work life as an editorial assistant/proofreader. Through that venerable trade he has developed an excellent, self-critical inner ear that has much to do with his fluid prose. Now that his storytelling has finally caught up to his skill as a writercome of age, so to speakany reader of any age is certain to find Toy-Maker's Apprentice a wonderful treasure, a true keepsake. Otherwise, James R. Poyner is also the author of Scorpion, another story suitable for readers of all ages.

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TOY-MAKER’S APPRENTICE

A Novella For the Young, And

The Young-At-Heart

James R. Poyner

Copyright © 2004 by James R. Poyner.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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25329

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Honoring the memory of my mother, Jean—

A model of grace.

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Chapter 1

WITHOUT QUESTION, IT was a place of wonder. The sort of place that made you stop and gawk, or if you were old enough, it made you stop and remember. The shelves and counters, the tables, and even the floor gleamed with a veritable menagerie of treasures—many wooden and finished with heads and tails for a zoo full of animals, with masts and sails for a fleet of sailing ships, and with stacks, domes, cabs, and cowcatchers for a roundhouse full of locomotives. Then there were the wheels painted blue, green, or red, and the white pull cords, snuggly fastened to lead the toy on a merry romp. Of course, there were dolls arrayed in pastel dresses nicely trimmed in lace, ready to waltz and polka to music by Strauss, the younger. Indeed, everywhere the eye glanced there were sights that provided still more color to that unique world of delight, imagination, and magic. Who could look on the scene and not feel something?

Also without question, Max’s Toyland on North Lincoln, not far from Fullerton in Chicago, was a generously sized storefront. The size, as you will see, accommodated one of the proprietor’s wants, while the volume of business easily warranted that expanse. Of course, that generosity meant even more toys, which, in turn, meant even more fascination for the observer—casual or otherwise, young or young-minded.

Otherwise, it was Monday, December 5, 1910. The air was chill, laden with moisture from the two inches of day-old snow. The snow added a slightly raw quality to the weather without, but that allowed for still greater appreciation for the warmth within.

Within, there was the warmth from the steam radiators that were fed by a coal-fired boiler in the basement. There also was the warmth from the phalanxes of cheery toys, artfully arranged, finely finished. For like other works of the human hand and imagination, they touched the heart, warming it with appreciation and with the spirit of the season. It was a heady combination, no matter what the age of the observer.

Properly, Max Prentice, proprietor and toy-maker, furthered that sense of warmth. When he was not waiting on customers with his customary smile and jovial enthusiasm, he was seated on his stool behind his workbench. The latter was behind the sales counter and was also visible from one of the windows, or at least the half that Max occupied could be seen from there. Oftentimes, children and adults would simply come to watch Max plying his trade, while many of the latter would note how he was ever grinning and as merry as can be. Yet, Max was doing what he loved best—creating toys that a child would love to play with, and that an adult would love to give to a favorite child. If, somehow, that made it all magical, that was all right with Max. If it furthered the love between that adult and that child, that, Max believed, was even better.

Indeed, it was not unusual for people of all ages to simply come in and watch him at work. Some work was commissioned, while the rest was meant for the shelves of the shop. Shipments from doll-makers and the like augmented his stock, while the products of his workbench meant that he and his wife Mildred could live comfortably in their roomy house not far from the shop. The need to help their children, Ted and Alice, had passed now that both were married and prosperous. If Max had any regret, it was that neither of his children had shown any interest in pursuing his trade.

Yet, there was a young lad, Jack Knob, who frequented the shop. Not only did Jack seem to