“Hm,” he replied, in what Viv was coming to understand was an affirmative.
He walked slowly around the interior, kicking at the stall panels, stomping on the flagstones. Viv tensed when he walked over the one above the Scalvert’s Stone.
He peered back at her. “How many you plannin’ to hire?”
“You have someone you like to work with, I’m not opposed. Other than that, I’m a ready pair of hands, and I don’t tire easy.” She held them up in demonstration. “It’s not a livery I’m wanting though.”
“No?”
“Ever hear of coffee?”
He shook his head.
“Well, I need a… a restaurant, I guess. For drinks. Oh!”
She went to her satchel and withdrew a set of sketches and notes. Suddenly, she was unaccountably nervous. Viv had never cared much for the judgment of others. It was pretty easy to ignore when you had three feet and six stone on most of the folks you encountered. Now, though, she worried that this small man would think her a fool.
Cal was waiting for her to continue.
She found herself rambling. “I came across it in Azimuth, the gnomish city out in the East Territory. Was there for a… well, it doesn’t matter what I was there for. But I smelled it first, and I came across this shop, and they made…. Well, it’s like tea, but not like tea. It smells like….” She stopped. “And it doesn’t matter what it smells like, I can’t describe it, anyway. At any rate, imagine I’m opening a tavern, but with no taps, no kegs, no beer. Just tables, a counter, some room in the back. Here, I did some sketches of the place I saw.”
She thrust the papers at him and felt color rising in her cheeks. Ridiculous!
He took the pages and examined them, paying careful attention to each, as though he were committing every line to memory.
After several agonizing minutes, he returned them. “Those your sketches? Not bad.”
If anything, she flushed hotter.
“And you’re plannin’ to stay here, too?” He cocked a thumb at the loft. “Seems that’s suited.”
“I… yes.”
He put his hands on his hips and stared into the bay where the stalls stood.
She’d half-expected him to turn on his heel and leave, but now she was beginning to think she might’ve chosen just right.
“So….” He walked around the space again. “Seems you could keep the stalls. Cut ’em down some. Tear out the doors, box it in along the walls for benches. Take some long planks, set ’em up on a trestle in between. Then, you got yourself some booths and tables here along the sides. Tear down that wall into the office. The counter might do. Need to check for rot.”
He kicked at the splintered wood from the ladder and raised his eyebrows at her. “Gonna need a new ladder. Couple bags of nails. Whitewash. Paint. Clay tile. Some river stone. Bags of lime. Might want a few more windows in the place. And… alotof lumber.”
“So you’ll do it?”
He gave her another one of his long, speculative looks. “What’d you say? I do things when it seems wiser not to? Well, if you’re helpin’, I guess so. Gimme some of that parchment and a stylus if you’ve got it. We’re goin’ to need a list. Alonglist. Tomorrow, we can see about gettin' the orders filled and how much flatter we can make that purse of yours.” For the first time since she’d met him, he offered a thin little smile. “Not gonna ask how much it’ll cost?”
“Do you figure you even know, yet?”
“Don’t suppose I do.”
“Well, then.” Viv dragged an old tack crate away from the wall, blew away the dust, and handed him a stylus.
They bent over the parchment together as Cal started writing.
* * *
Cal leftin the late afternoon to complete his work on the dinghy, promising to return in the morning. Viv tucked away the materials list and then stood in the hush of the livery, where the low noise outside seemed hardly to intrude. She looked out the doors and across to Laney’s porch, but found it empty.
She suddenly felt very alone, which was odd. Viv had spent plenty of time with no company to speak of—long treks, lonely campgrounds, cold tents, dripping caves.
