Bad Money (A Stephen Attebrook mystery Book 6)
Page 23
“Well, this house is a little different. There’s something I want to show you.”
“I can’t imagine what that might be,” Harry said. But he followed Stephen through the door and into the vacant shop that occupied the front of the ground floor.
A new chest stood in a far corner, the pinewood still shiny and yellow.
“So,” Harry asked, “what am I supposed to see? A lot of dust?”
“There’s that chest.”
“What about it?”
“It belongs to you.”
“What would I do with a chest? Besides, I can’t carry something like that back to my stall.”
“You won’t need to carry it anywhere. Why don’t you open it?”
Harry glared at Stephen with suspicion. “What’s it got in it, snakes?”
“Not snakes, although I suppose the contents might hurt someone if he isn’t careful.”
“And you still expect me to open it?”
Nonetheless, Harry dragged himself to the chest and flipped up the lid. The chest held an array of tools: chisels and carving knives of various sizes and shapes, drills, and other assorted things that an expert woodcarver had a use for.
Harry glanced back at Stephen. “What is this?”
“It’s so you’ll have a true craft now,” Jennie said from the doorway where she had been watching round the corner. “Sir Stephen bought them for you! With his new stipend!”
“You knew about this?” Harry asked, incredulous that such a secret could have been kept in the Wistwode house.
Jennie nodded. “I helped pick them out. I hope they’re all you need.”
“You did?” Harry said. He rested a hand upon the tools.
“I can’t believe this,” Gilbert said from behind Jennie. “Harry speechless! We need more witnesses to this extraordinary event!”
“We’ve spoken to the carpenters’ guild,” Stephen said. “They have agreed to admit you, especially since you won’t truly be in competition with their members. It’s not like you’ll be building houses and making carts, or that sort of thing.”
Harry’s mouth hung open and still nothing came out. At last he managed to ask, “And this,” he waved about, “will be my workshop?”
“Yes,” Stephen said. “And your home. You won’t have to live in the stable anymore.”
“I am quite comfortable there,” Harry said, his face screwed up with emotion that he could not contain. “But I suppose it will do.”
“Well, then,” Stephen said, “come in while we get the fire started and have a cup of ale.”
And so the two of them went through to the hall, followed by Jennie and Gilbert. The house did not yet feel like home, but it soon would.