shadow

Chapter 3 - Sawdust and Cold Light

Inside, the air smelled of beeswax, boiled linseed oil, and curing cherrywood. Sunlight streamed through high clerestory windows, illuminating millions of drifting dust motes. Massive timber workbenches ran along the perimeter, covered with cast-iron hand planes, chisels organized by width in leather tool rolls, and Japanese pull saws hanging from leather straps.

At the far end of the room, near a cast-iron wood stove, sat Marcus Vance.

He was sitting stiffly in a wide, high-backed Windsor armchair he had undoubtedly carved himself. His hair was long, iron-gray, and tied back with a leather lace. A heavy wool blanket covered his lower legs, and a thick wooden cane rested against his knee. His weathered face was lined with deep crevices around the eyes and mouth, his jaw stubbled with gray.

Elena stopped ten feet away. Neither spoke immediately. The silence between them carried the weight of fifteen unreturned letters, three missed family milestones, and countless assumed grudges.

""You took the turnpike,"" Marcus said finally. His voice was raspy, like dry sandpaper scraping across cedar. ""You always drove too fast.""

""And you always built stairs without guardrails,"" Elena answered steadily, setting her purse and the manila folder on the corner of an assembly table. ""Mr. Albright called me.""

Marcus gave a short, dismissive grunt. ""Albright talks too much. A bruised hip. Nothing a few days of resting won't fix.""

""He said you couldn’t climb up to the loft to sleep.""

""The couch down here works fine."" Marcus shifted slightly, a sharp grimace flashing across his face before he masked it with practiced stoicism. His eyes, the exact shade of hazel as her own, swept over her neat business clothes. ""You didn't have to come. You could have signed the town conservation release by notary and sent it back.""

""The town wants to demolish the waterwheel flume to build a concrete culvert, Dad,"" Elena said, stepping closer. ""If I signed that release without looking at the structural reports, the historic status of the mill would be revoked by Friday. You’d lose the water rights.""

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Marcus looked down at his calloused hands resting on his lap. ""Maybe it’s time it went down.""

""Don't lie,"" Elena said softly. ""You built your whole life inside these walls.""

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