When Cal showedup again with lumber and sacks of nails, Viv forced him to take most of her remaining funds. He didn’t protest, but she wondered how he’d been paying foranyof it. At some point, she simply allowed herself not to worry about it, which was both unnerving and freeing.
As construction commenced, Thimble made a habit of joining them at noon, bearing sacks of food—warm meat turnovers in flaky pastry, good hearty loaves of bread, and once, his cinnamon rolls. Everyone stopped their labors and companionably ate those, seated on the growing lower wall of brick.
Laney sometimes tottered across the street to offer advice. She’d tut over the fire and usually managed to abscond with a roll.
It turned out that Pendry was quite the stonemason, though nobody but Viv seemed particularly surprised. “Oh sure,” he said, cheeks red and rubbing the back of his head. “It’s the family business.”
They were sheathing the half-wall of brick in river-stone when Hemington picked his way onto the lot, having traded his books for a satchel of tools.
“Good afternoon,” he said, seeming a little embarrassed.
“Hem,” said Viv, surprised to see him.
“I thought… well, I thought you might appreciate a little ward-work in the foundation.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Some warded inscriptions to proof against fire might not go amiss, perhaps?”
“I didn’t know it was possible. If I saidno, I think everyone here would curse me for an idiot,” replied Viv.
“That’s true, we would,” said Tandri, rising from where she’d been mixing mortar. She smiled at Hemington and raised a brow at Viv. Her cheeks were streaked with gray, and she wore a rough work shirt, rather than her customary sweater. Viv thought she looked pretty radiant.
“Well, then,” said Hemington. “I’ll just get to it, shall I?” He withdrew a collection of instruments from his satchel and went to the four corners of the foundation, then the midpoints of each outer wall, where he busied himself etching and inscribing and doing whatever it was he did. Viv figured she could probably ask Tandri for details later.
She reflected that if the Scalvert’s Stonehaddrawn something to this place, it might still be there.
27
They had the building framed in another week.
Partway through, a cart filled with clay tiles drew up to the shop-under-construction. Viv looked at Cal, who shrugged.
She walked over, nodding to the driver. “What’s this?”
He was a big man, scraggly beard, beefy. The fellow beside him was well-muscled and lean. She had a feeling she’d seen them somewhere before, but couldn’t immediately place them.
“Delivery,” the driver said, helpfully.
“Yeah, but who from?”
“Can’t say,” he said, with no particular animosity.
“And no payment expected?”
The man shook his head and climbed down with his partner. They set to piling the tiles in stacks in front of the lot.
And then she remembered. She’d seen them in Lack’s gaggle of hoods, all those weeks ago. She allowed herself a surprised grin, thinking of fine gray dresses. Then, shaking her head, she got back to work.
* * *
Coveringthe roof was rough labor, but Cal rigged a pulley system, and Viv doggedly hauled up buckets of tile. It took a week before it was all fully laid, and then they began work on the walls with some relief. Pendry still showed up every other day or so, and Tandri was a fine hand with a mallet and nails.
Other help came and went, and Viv was never really sure from what quarter. Whether Cal hired them or the Madrigal sent them or they just happened to wander by and lend a hand—she stopped trying to guess.
Viv could see the skeleton of the shop fleshing itself in wood and stone, now with a proper staircase to the loft, the pantry relocated, and framing for more windows along the front.
Pendry bricked up a proper double chimney along the east wall where space awaited the stoves. He lined the new underground cold box, as well.
Thimble arrived daily with one warm delicacy or another, and Viv caught him eyeing the more generous kitchen footprint more than once.
Even Amity appeared from time to time. To the relief of everyone, she seemed none the worse for wear, although her perpetually sooty fur made it hard to tell. Like a great, gray ghost, she weaved her way between bare studs, gazing around in a proprietary way before disappearing, once more.
