Chapter 4: The Timber Barn in Elkhorn
Nora drove thirty miles west, leaving the manicured luxury resorts behind, heading deep into the rolling farmland of Walworth County.
There, situated on a fifteen-acre parcel of green pastures and burr oaks, sat an old timber barn and farmhouse that had belonged to her grandfather: *Vance Structural Timberworks.*
The property had been abandoned for eight years after her grandfather’s passing. While the rest of the family fought over the valuable lakefront real estate in town, Nora had quietly purchased the back-country timber parcel with her first engineering bonuses.
The roof was solid, built from hand-hewn white oak trusses that had withstood a century of Midwestern blizzards.
When Nora parked her station wagon beside the gravel drive, the rain had stopped, giving way to the rich, earthy scent of damp prairie grass, wet cedar, and wild clover.
Sitting on the porch of the workshop was Samuel Thorne—a sixty-year-old master timber framer who had worked alongside Nora’s grandfather for thirty years. Samuel was smoking a corncob pipe, wearing a heavy denim apron and steel-toed boots.
Samuel took the pipe from his mouth, his weathered face breaking into a slow, warm smile.
""Heard the thunder over the lake, Nora,"" Samuel said, his deep voice rich with Midwestern gravel. ""Did the roof hold?""
Nora walked up the wooden steps, took off her damp black jacket, and sat on the bench beside him.
""The roof fell in on them, Samuel,"" Nora said softly, looking out across the emerald fields. ""Just like you said it would.""
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Samuel nodded slowly, blowing a thin ring of blue smoke into the evening air. ""A house built on borrowed pride always leaks when the clouds gather, girl. Come inside. The shop stove is hot, and we’ve got forty oak bents to notch before morning.""
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