Davis snorted. Smart for who? They're sitting on empty buildings, letting them deteriorate until the town has no choice but to approve their development plans. He set a box of nails on the counter. Used to be a community here, now it's just real estate.
Before leaving, Ethan asked, "Did you know Thomas Blackwell? " Davis paused, his expression thoughtful. "Not well. I was just back from Vietnam when he disappeared. " But my dad worked at the mill for 30 years. Said Thomas was the only boss who knew every worker by name. He met Ethan's eyes.
After Thomas vanished, Dad always said something didn't add up. The Thomas Blackwell he knew wouldn't steal a dime, let alone embezzle thousands. What do you think happened to him? Davis shrugged. Official investigation went nowhere.
No body, no evidence of foul play. Just a man who walked away from his life. He began ringing up Ethan's purchases. But I'll tell you this, in 40 years of law enforcement, I've never seen a man just vanish without a reason. And usually that reason is either love or money.
When Ethan returned to the mansion, he found Noah in the parlor, carefully cleaning the ornate woodwork with a soft cloth Martha had provided. "The boy had a methodical approach that reminded Ethan of himself at that age. Patient, thorough, respectful of craftsmanship. " "The wood is thirsty," Noah explained, showing how the polish disappeared into the grain. "Martha says it hasn't been fed in decades. " "You're doing a good job," Ethan said, ruffling his son's hair. Want me to show you something special about old houses like this?
Noah nodded eagerly and Ethan knelt beside him at the baseboard molding. See how this is built? He traced the profile with his finger. This isn't just decoration. It's telling you a story about the house.
Each layer, each curve was a choice made by the craftsman. When you understand how to read these details, it's like the house is talking to you. Noah's eyes widen. What's it saying? It's saying it was built by someone who cared about doing things right, Ethan explained.
Someone who knew that details matter. That's something my grandfather taught me. A house is only as good as its smallest details. They continued working through the afternoon, Ethan assessing the structural needs while Noah cleaned and organized. In the front parlor, Ethan noticed something odd about a section of Wayne scotting.
The wood pattern didn't quite match the surrounding panels, as if it had been replaced at some point. Running his hand along the surface, he felt a slight difference in texture. "Noah, come look at this," he called. Together, they examined the wall section. Ethan pressed gently, and to their surprise, the panel moved slightly.