Mr. Dawkins arrived promptly on time, and greeted at the door by Evelyn, he politely shook her hand as he introduced himself, and when Joanna appeared, he did the same. As she had done twice before, Evelyn excused herself and disappeared into the kitchen, but much to Joanna’s surprise, unlike his predecessors, Mr. Dawkins didn’t appear to be in a rush to get his quote into Joanna’s hand.

Cordial and soft-spoken, he admitted his love for architecture before they had even taken a step, and as they meandered through the house, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing out the workmanship in the plaster cornices and the detailed carvings in the plinths and blocks around the doors. He admitted all were in need of repair or refinishing, but Samson was unable to contain his smile amidst such finery. Against skin as dark as pitch, his dazzling display of straight, white teeth seemed to light up the house, and when they walked outside, the sun had found itself a competitor.

No sooner had they stepped onto the patio when Samson insisted Joanna go back inside. Dressed in a canvas, fleece-lined jacket and overalls, he was protected from the chill of the February wind, but Joanna’s hooded camel hair coat, while stylish, did not do the same. Appreciative of his chivalry, Joanna did as he asked and for the next two hours, she paced the kitchen while Samson paced the patio.

***

As soon as Joanna stepped foot in the parlor, Samson Dawkins stood up, his six-foot-five frame blocking out the streams of sunshine coming through one of the windows.

Joanna sat down and motioned for Samson to join her. “So, what do you think?”

“Your best option is to have it all jackhammered up and replaced.”

“What? Really?”

“You seem surprised.”

“Well, no...I mean...look, I’ll be honest. I’ve already spoken to a couple of other contractors, and neither of them recommended that.”

“Then they’re fools,” Samson said, placing his clipboard off to the side. “Mortar is nothing more than water, sand, and Portland cement mixed together, but whoever did that out there, didn’t use the right ratio. That’s why it’s cracking and crumbling.”

“So it has nothing to do with the tunnel?”

“The tunnel? Why would you think that?”

“Something one of them said. They thought it was undermining the strength of the hill.”

Samson threw back his head and let out a hearty guffaw. “Oh no, miss. I don’t want to speak ill of my competitors, but they don’t know what they’re talking about. The timbers used to build that tunnel are elm and ash, two of the hardest, most durable woods we’ve got, and the support columns are brick. That tunnel is as sound as it was the day it was built.”

“So, the only thing you’re suggesting is to remove the slate and put it back down with new mortar?”