How Two Extra Jobs and Forty Thousand Dollars Bought the Old Miller Farm
I followed him around the south corner of the porch, pulling my coat tight against the wind.
Nate dropped to his knees on the damp gravel beside a crawl space vent.
He shined the yellow beam into the dark space under the floor joists.
“Foundation is stacked limestone,” Nate called out from under the porch.
He crawled back three feet on his knees to light up the main sill beam.
“Oak timber,” Nate said, his voice muffled behind the floorboards.
“Eight by eight.”
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