The Crafters Book Two Read Online Free Page B

doesn’t know. I traveled here with a nice family who hired me to watch their babies. As soon as I’m successful, I’ll go back.” She stroked Andrew’s arm imploringly. “Please. It’s probably best that Mother not be told. We could help each other, you and I.”
    “Oh,” said Andrew, looking at her roguish dark eyes and glossy hair with new appreciation. “I imagine you could get closer to Franklin than I. He has been known to flirt.”
    “So have I.”
    “And I could offer astrological consultations to any of the delegates who want to check the auspices. If Mr. Madison is a Virginia farmer—?”
    “He is.”
    “Then we may find him altogether disposed to meet with me. With us. Farmers plant their fields and breed their livestock according to the stars.”
    “So you’ll help me with Billy and I’ll help you with your electricity. We always dealt so well together, brother.”
    “Sister,” said Andrew, and finally gave her a welcoming kiss. She returned it heartily, which made his heart heavier. All he kept thinking was, she has a sweetheart. His name is Billy.
    * * *
    Andrew was at the tavern the next day taking a supper of squab and boiled vegetables when Franklin came in. He almost choked on a cold potato, then waggled his fork at Calliope to attract her attention. She had proved to be very popular at the tavern; one young rooster after another set his cap for her.
    Now Calliope saw Andrew’s signal. The look she gave the older man standing at the doorway, leaning upon his cane, was a considering one. Then she left the bumpkin she’d been talking to to greet Franklin. Andrew saw her say something that made Franklin smile. Then he bent close and said something in return that caused Calliope to throw back her head and shake with laughter. As they moved to the back room reserved for special customers, Andrew saw Franklin make a great show of being infirm so that Calliope, who was as tall as he, tucked his arm in hers and all but supported him.
    As they passed closer to Andrew, he noticed bits of thread and lint all across the brown worsted of Franklin’s suit. His grey hair seemed unduly flyaway for such humid Philadelphia weather.
    Calliope came back into the great room and sat at Andrew’s table. He tried to wave her away. “No, don’t let him see us together. He may remember me and suspect something.”
    Calliope just put her head to the side. “You flatter yourself, Andrew. His eye is all for the ladies. He’s such an old man—you never mentioned that. And still so spry. I think he likes me, too.”
    “Good,” said Andrew, then had a pang of conscience. “You must not allow him any liberties, Calliope. We only want a meeting with him. Take care.”
    She looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. “Take care of what?”
    “That he doesn’t—Well, some men—Oh, go tend your customers.” She shook her head, but went. Andrew was greatly encouraged. And it was only fair he make some effort on Calliope’s behalf. This very eve he would write a letter to Madison offering his services.
    Calliope returned from the back room several times that night. Each time she had something new to tell Andrew. Franklin was conferring with some of the other patriots. Franklin had complimented her eyes. Franklin had presented her with a shilling when she brought him his dinner.
    Finally she emerged, pewter pitcher in her hand, triumphant smile on her face. “I got you your interview!” she told Andrew.
    “Really? You told him about me and he’s willing to meet with me?”
    “Not quite.” Calliope brushed a crumb from the table. “I thought I would explain things once I was in his house.”
    “You got an invitation for us to go to Franklin’s house?” Oh, she was an excellent girl!
    “Just me this first time, but I know I can convince him to see you also once I’m there.” Her smile was sly. “I can convince anyone of anything.”
    Andrew was uneasy. “Exactly what did Franklin invite you to