The main lumber aisle smelled of fresh-cut pine and damp cedar.

Rory was standing next to a tall pile of treated red cedar in his heavy canvas work jacket with the welding shop logo stitched over the pocket.

He was loading eight-foot decking boards onto a heavy flatbed cart two at a time, swinging them up with an easy rhythm.

“You look pretty busy for a man without any contracts,” I said, stopping five feet back from the cart.

Rory spun around and nearly dropped a six-inch board.