"It will be a difficult job, Mr. Stoddard," I said. "This is no ordinary job you've outlined here."
"I know that," said Stoddard proudly. "And I am prepared to pay for the extra special work it will probably require."
That was different. I perked up a little.
"I'll have to turn over these plans to my own draftsman," I told him, "before I can give you an estimate on the construction."
George B. Stoddard turned to his wife.
"I told you, Laura," he said, "that sooner or later we'd find a contractor with brains and imagination."
It took fully two months haggling over the plans with Stoddard and my own draftsmen before we were able to start work on the nightmare my clients called their dream castle. Two months haggling in an effort to make Stoddard relinquish some of his more outlandish ideas on his proposed dwelling. But he didn't budge an inch, and by the time we'd laid the foundation for the dream shack, every last building quirk he'd had originally on those "plans" still held.
I took a lot of ribbing from contractors in that vicinity once the word got round that I was building Stoddard's house for him. It seems that he'd been to them all before he got around to me.
But I didn't mind the ribbing much at first. Even though Stoddard was a barrel full of trouble hanging around the building lot with an eagle eye to see that nothing was omitted, I had already cashed his first few payment checks on the construction.