Happy Friday everyone. Not going to jinx this one with any comments about chaos or it’s opposite. You know what I mean. So let’s just jump in and see what the last prompt of the week looks like. Timers set and off we go.
And now I am going to be thinking about what our carpenter did to get into the debt of Ferris for the rest of the day. There are worse things I suppose.
Friday, September 18th: He ran a hand over the surface.
He ran a hand over the surface. It was as slick as glass. Still, knowing even a speck could ruin the entire piece, he continued. He let his fingers trail over every millimeter of the table’s surface, feeling his way more than looking. His eyes were there only to make sure his fingers didn’t miss a spot.
When he reached the end he sighed and straightened. Not a single gritty little bump met his questing fingers. He was finally done.
The client wanted to glossy finish and he provided. The table still had the live wood edge but after sanding and staining thee were layers of lacquer to the tip. They had to be applied and then any dust particles sanded out with another layer poured on. He lost track of the number of hours he poured into this piece in order to make it perfect.
He knew he wouldn’t be paid anything comparable for his time but that was okay, this time. He would be paid a nominal fee, but it would be the last piece he would do. The fee would cover the materials, but the labor was his repayment.
‘And this is the final installment.’
He shoved the thought to the side. It wasn’t done until it was done.
He did one final check and satisfied with the work, he made the call.
It didn’t take long before Mr. Hugh Ferris dispatched his men. There were several to move the long table and to ride with it in the back. Another man was there to drive and of course, George Willis was present. Willis was Mr. Ferris’ man.
Anything heading into the house needed his approval. Anyone needing to talk to Ferris needed his go ahead. He was tall and build more like a man imitating a wall than a regular person. There wasn’t, as his grandmother would say, enough fat on him to grease a cake pan.
He was a wall of muscle.
It wa tempting to see the size of him and to think he would have a slow dense mind to go with the dense musculature. It would be stupid to think so as Willis was both smart and extremely well educated. He expected Willis to be present and would have been shocked if he hadn’t been. As the table was inspected he studied the man and wondered how Willis managed to end up as a man Friday for someone like Hugh Ferris.
Ferris was not the smartest in many rooms he walked into. He was generally the wealthiest and by far the meanest. More than one local had been on the wrong end of Ferris’ amusements in their dime and most were pleased when Ferris stayed home and just sent Willis.
He didn’t want to guess how the two paired up. Considering he was paying off his own debt that he didn’t want anyone delving too deeply into, he never asked. After a few basic questions asked by Willis and answered by him, the table was deemed acceptable.
It was swaddled in cushioning blankets for the trip and the men were given the go ahead to load it. Willis paid him for the table, the fee this time not even enough to cover the materials. It was for show so that it would seem the table was paid for. Still the lowness of the price paid felt like an insult. He knew it was meant as such which made it burn more.
‘Last one,’ he reminded himself as he watched the truck trundle away. ‘The last damned one.’
Ten til Midnight 