“How much cash is left in the envelope on the kitchen counter?” Nate asked.

“Six dollars and twelve cents,” I said.

He broke off a small piece of crust with his thumb and forefinger and chewed it slowly.

“We have sixty feet of main line wire left to pull through the ceiling joists,” he said.

“The county electrical inspector comes out Friday morning at nine,” I said.

“Judy called my cell while you were wiping down the cellar stairs,” Nate said.

I looked at the bright white circle his headlamp made on the bare gray plaster wall across the room.