“I could ask one of the carpenter’s when I come past in the morning,” Edward offered.
Frowning, she attached a small clove to the top of her faux marzipan peach. It wasn’t the job for a boy, yet nor did she have time to go all the way across Town, although it would take her past the Inns of Court. She shook her head. She didn’t have time for dropping in and visiting with Barrister Charles Jeffrey Lambeth, if that were even allowed. There must be somewhere closer that one could hire a builder. Perhaps the business on Cavendish Square near The Langham, that made stained glass and vestments for churches. She’d passed it whenever she made deliveries to the hotel. Then she realized the answer.
“I am a cloth-headed ninny! The newspaper is the answer. I will look through the papers tonight with my dinner and come up with some prospects.”
Edward looked disappointed so she relented.
“If you wish to stop by the guild hall and see what you can suss out,” Charlotte told him, “I would be most obliged. Between the two of us, we shall discover the right man for the job of building our staircase.”
WHILE CHARLOTTE HAD written down the names of two builders from advertisements in the newspapers and brought them to the shop the following morning, when Edward came in, he not only had the name of a builder, he had the man himself.
“Miss, this is my uncle, Mr. Tufts. He says he can do the job.”
Charlotte walked around from behind the counter, coming to a stop in the middle of the floor. While she felt a little peculiar meeting with a tradesman, and wished she had an inch or two more on her height to give her an air of authority, she was nonetheless in charge. The man had neither the same sandy-colored hair as his nephew, nor any hint of the boy’s open-faced earnestness about him.
Instead, his gaze darted up and down her figure, then flickered around the shop, giving Charlotte a moment of discomfort. Yet, when the man met her eye again, he nodded in a friendly fashion.
“A tidy shop you have here, miss, and that’s no mistake. My nephew told me you need stairs built, and I can help with that.”
“Are you a master carpenter, Mr. Tufts? Or a journeyman?” Obviously, he was too old to be an apprentice.
“A builder, I am, miss. I can do a little of this, a little of that. Roofs, walls, stairs. It makes no matter what, I can do it.”
She glanced at Edward who remained quiet.
“I’ll get started working, miss,” he said and disappeared in the back to get his apron.
“His mother’s as pleased as Punch you’ve given the boy work to do.”
“He’s a hard worker, and capable, too.”
“Takes after me,” the man said, puffing up his chest.
A swaggerer, Charlotte thought, but if he was good at his job, then that was no matter.
“Where would you be wanting the stairs?” he asked, starting to stroll around.
“In that back corner. We’re expanding to the second floor and the current staircase is outside.”
“Expanding your sweet shop, are you? You must be doing quite well, and on this street, too. A lot of rich folk buying from you, are they?” He didn’t pause for answers but went to the shelves where they kept their pretty tins for larger orders. Next, he banged on the wall a bit with the flat of his hand.
Charlotte frowned.What could that tell him?
“Good construction here,” Mr. Tufts said when he saw her looking at him. Then he looked up. “Gots to cut a hole right there.”
“Undoubtedly,” Charlotte said. And then, into the silence, she asked, “Would you like to have a sample of confectionery?”
“Free?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“But I ain’t buying nothing.”
Charlotte smiled. “That’s all right.”
“A piece of toffee, then, lass. I need to go upstairs and see the lay of the land.”
Charlotte thought about what had happened with Charles Jeffcoat upstairs. “I’ll get Edward to take you up. I’ve got too much work to do to open. I wasn’t expecting to see a builder this morning.”
