The front doorbell rang twice, sharp and clear through the small entry hall.

I wiped my hands on my cotton apron, lifted Theodore out of his high chair, and walked down the hallway to open the door.

Brandon stood on the front porch with a long cedar beam over his right shoulder and a red steel toolbox in his left hand.

He set the heavy timber down on the grass, scuffed the toe of his work boot on the concrete step, and looked up at the roofline.

“The lawn by the cedar tree is level enough for the frame,” Brandon said, his voice low and full of hesitation.