At seven the following morning, the first SUV rolled onto the gravel drive.

Three more followed.

Their engines stopped in a staggered line below the porch.

I watched through the kitchen window as four men and two women stepped out carrying leather portfolios, slim laptops, and the unmistakable caution of people approaching someone who could change their careers with one sentence.

The man from the first vehicle was tall and silver-haired.

He took one look at Silas, who stood by the woodpile in an old flannel shirt, and hurried forward.

“Mr.