James
It’s late. Charlotte and Michael have gone to bed ahead of me.
Stretching my arm, rolling my shoulders, I suppress a yawn, then push my spectacles further up my nose.
Blasted things… Always slipping…
Get them adjusted…
Finish the damn report…
I return to my typing.
… The structural survey confirms that refitting is not a viable option in the building’s current condition. Full renovation might be possible, but would be uneconomic. Dry rot has…
A tap on the door. “May I come in?” Klempner’s voice.
“By all means.”
The door swings open on the end of his shoe. He hovers in the doorway, a mug in either hand. “I come bearing gifts. I saw you were working late. I thought you might appreciate a coffee.”
“You’re not wrong there. Thank you.”
He sets a mug down by my laptop, then tak
