“I will get down on my f*****g knees, Jude,” Harris said, meaning it. “I will beg you.”
“No, not you. You don’t beg.” Jude exhaled loudly. “Okay, fine.” He watched him with heated blue eyes. “You know those pieces you saw up on Henrietta’s roof, the table and—”
“I knew it!” Harris slapped the bar top again. “I knew it,” he said, more softly. “You made those. Those are your creations.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, go on.”
Jude’s face brightened. “I started a company last year. I mean, it’s a company of one. Right now, I’m trying to get three of my pieces into an international show coming to Montreal in a month. It’s all handcrafted furniture from the best people in the field.”
“Like a competition?’’ Harris was leaning forward in his seat.
“Not a competition per se, but more like a once-in-a-
