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“I’d love that. Thank you.” Andrew began unbuttoning his jacket. “I was just thinking about how your personality lends itself to this sort of thing. Meticulous work.”

Andrew shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Edwin.

“Agnes calls it tedious,” Edwin said as he brought the jacket over to his oval worktable. “And she’s not exactly wrong.”

Andrew stood by with his hands clasped behind his back as he watched Edwin select the closest matching thread.

“Do you like it, though?” Andrew asked. “Uhm, sewing, I mean?”

“Sometimes,” Edwin answered. “Depends on what I’m sewing, really.”

Andrew hummed. “That’s interesting.” He took a seat on the bed. “What kinds of clothing do you like to work on?”

“Menswear, mostly,” Edwin said, pushing thread through the eye of a needle. He took a pause from speaking while he secured it and then looked up shyly. “I, uhm, I make a lot of my own clothes, actually. I’m not sure if I ever mentioned that.”

“Really?!” Andrew said. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”

Edwin’s cheeks flushed. “Well, my father was a tailor. I learned from him before he passed.”

“Oh, that’s right! William mentioned that once. Actually, he said it was how the two of you met.”

“Mm-hmm,” Edwin replied as he began to sew. “Anyway, I like working on menswear. Unfortunately, Agnes rarely ever receives men’s garments to repair. And, of course, she’s never received an order for a custom suit at all. All the men in Albany either purchase their suits from some of the local shops or, well, the wealthier families—families like the Whitneys and others—they each have tailors they prefer to work with. Established businesses and such.”

Andrew began twisting his hands in his lap, nervousness percolating inside him as he mentally prepared himself to pry a little more into Edwin’s life.

“Why, uhm, why didn’t you take over for your father when he passed?”

“I wasn’t in a position to at the time.” Edwin shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable, but his hands only paused for a moment before he continued right on mending the cuff of Andrew’s suit. “I had a rough transition finding my footing as the, ah, the head of the household, actually. Only months after my father passed away, we moved from our old neighborhood, which was a bit closer to where William lives, to here, mostly because of our lack of money. And once I felt more comfortable in my, uhm, my new role in the Beasley household, I . . . well, then I started working for William’s family in the conservatory not long after.”

“Are things better now? For you?”

Edwin’s hands stilled, and he began to look pensive. After a moment, he lifted his chin to meet Andrew’s eyes. His own had a curious kind of intensity about them.

“Mostly.”

Edwin pursed his lips, and his forehead creased as though he was considering something. Andrew couldn’t help but stare at the little vertical line between Edwin’s brows. His stomach fluttered. He really loved that line. He loved all of Edwin.

After a moment more, Edwin said, “Actually, let me revise that. Overall, yes, things are much better for me. In fact, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Anything,” Andrew replied.

“I’ve been considering what my life might look like if I moved out. I wouldn’t make enough money from the conservatory alone to afford rent, most likely. At least not comfortably. And I’ve really enjoyed working in the photography studio with you. Do you think maybe I could . . . keep working there? With you?”

Andrew’s eyes popped.

“Good heavens, Edwin, I would love that!” he exclaimed. “I think we’ll have to try to find some more clients somehow. Or perhaps we’ll have to travel more often, either to the surrounding cities or even to the towns outside of Albany but”—he sucked in a fast breath—“oh, I’d be so thrilled!”

Edwin chuckled. “All right, then, I suppose that’s settled.” He looked down like he was going to continue sewing but stopped. Frowning, he glanced back up at Andrew. “Are you sure it won’t be a problem, though, financially speaking, for me to keep working with you?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I’d like us to try it, regardless.”

They smiled at each other.

“Thank you, Andrew,” Edwin said. He went back to sewing, and a little while later, he cut the thread. He ran his finger over the stitching and stood. “Good as new.”

Andrew walked over and took it back from him. Admiring the repaired cuff, his smile broadened and chest swelled as an idea popped into his head.

“Do you think . . . Edwin, do you think you could ever make me a suit?” Andrew asked as he slipped the jacket back on. “It would be so wonderful to have something you made. I’ll compensate you for the time and materials, of course.”