How Four Hundred Dollars on a Lancaster Diner Table Changed One Christmas Eve
Four of his main site foremen stood by the open doors of the main framing shed, holding hot coffee cups while diesel exhaust from an idling loader drifted through the air.
Arthur Vance’s black SUV swung sharply into the entrance, throwing loose stone against the fence as it stopped near the stacked oak lumber.
Arthur got out into the yard without shutting off his engine.
“I hear you’re still asking my payroll clerk about closed project ledger accounts, Nathaniel,” Arthur shouted, his booming voice carrying easily across the open gravel.
The four site foremen stopped talking and turned toward the driveway.
Nathaniel walked three steps forward and stopped beside a stack of framing timber.
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