“The power company pulled the glass meter five years ago,” Nate said.

“They won’t put a new meter on sixty-amp knob-and-tube wiring.”

“What does that mean for the county hookup?” I asked.

“It means the county inspector will red-tag the main line the second he sees this cloth,” he said.

He shined his light along the cellar ceiling, where dozens of black cotton-covered lines disappeared into the floorboards above us.

“How much wire do we need?” I asked.

“Five hundred feet of twelve-gauge copper, a two-hundred-amp breaker box, and thirty new outlets,” he said.