"The town sounds ripe for growth, and perhaps a higher class of people looking to have the finer things that you and these Patterson Forde folk can produce."

"Well, we have to cater for everybody, high and low, rich and poor. The cost of the materials might vary, but I like to think that the quality of the workmanship does not." countered Wus.

"... A lot better than 'off the rack' things from the Mercantile or the General Store. Nothing wrong with mass-produced clothing, certainly not, but quality clothing with exact fit cannot be beat, at least as far as I am concerned." Then again, what would you expect from a tailor?

The other man nodded his agreement.

"Without a bootmaker, it would seem that a man of my talents could ease right in to a position. Of course, I much prefer men's furnishings, but, given the situation with the brothers over there, I'm not quite sure I'd fit in. Perhaps bringing elite footwear to the natives is my destiny. I mean, they could certainly use my talents. Wouldn't you say, Wus?" 

"Yes, they are a certainly quaint bunch next door, but the Mother is a sound businesswoman - I'm sure a mutually beneficial arrangement could be reached..."

Pettigrew was more than a little intrigued as to why the famous Ferdinand Lyle (well, famous within Louisiana tailoring circles, that is!) had fished up in this out of the way spot.

"I don't imagine you have your tools with you..." Wus started.

"I do have my tools along, just in case something like this came along. But, is the current equipment the Patterson Forde's property, and do you suppose they might want to sell? I mean, I'd like a day or so to consider it, and of course, there would be the rent. I'm not inclined to toe anyone's line. Gentlemen like you and I certainly need to have our creative freedom."

It sounded more and more like Lyle had come here with the express purpose of finding work. 

"It seems clear... you rent the workshop, they and I point customers in your direction. As for living quarters: the hotel is too dear, Jemima, has your mother any space? Jemima's mother runs a comfortable boarding house just opposite: good food, and plenty of it." he suggested.

Jemima glanced up at Lyle's rotund form.

"Guess you'd be wantin' a downstairs room?" she asked: she couldn't imagine him wanting to climb a lot of stairs.

Flip 

"You know, Wus, I left New Orleans in a rush, but I have my tools, clothes, and a trunk full of material. I only ask about buying those left behind in the event there was a debt owed or sum such." Ferdy said, "And whether or not there was or is a position open, looking for that position depended on whether you were the Wus I know. And, viola, you are." He laughed heartily. They had been competitors, but they were also friends.

"To explain, you would remember Enrique Lombardi? His fiancée, Miss Cordilia Newman? He accused me of lusting after her, how ludicrous! He would not listen to common sense and challenged me publicly to a duel. Long story short, his shot missed; mine, unfortunately for him, did not. So, here I am, standing in your parlor, old friend." He was quick to relate. The job was not all that important; he was quite capable of finding and opening his own shop, but there were already too many tailors, but a shoe maker? Now, that would be needed for repairs as well as making new boots and shoes, both men's and women's.

"To explain, you would remember Enrique Lombardi?"

"Indeed I do! A jealous Italian of passionate whims, as I recall." Wus replied, pretty sure which way this story was heading.

"His fiancée, Miss Cordilia Newman?"

"For many years, indeed. They still not married then? I'm not surprised, he was always accusing her of dilly dallying with other fellows" Wus recalled. 

"He accused me of lusting after her, how ludicrous! He would not listen to common sense and challenged me publicly to a duel. Long story short, his shot missed"

Wus was not so much surprised at the idea of Ferdy philandering, even with as shopworn a piece of goods as Cuddly Cordy Newman, or at the fact that the hot tempered Italian challenged Lyle according to the Code Duello, no - the surprise was that he had missed! After all, Lyle was a pretty large target.

"... mine, unfortunately for him, did not. So, here I am, standing in your parlor, old friend."

Pettigrew frowned and looked about.

"Then where, pray, is Miss Newman? Or is it Mrs Lyle now?" he asked plaintively; after all, it was rather bad sportsmanship to shoot a girl's fiancée and then not marry her yourself. Maybe Ferdinand had left her back at the hotel.

Flip