“They’re on their way to the airport,” I said when Nathan answered.

“We’re three miles out,” Nathan replied. “The crane is already at the staging area off Bee Cave Road.”

Within twenty minutes, three heavy-duty trucks pulled up the winding driveway.

They were followed by two long, yellow flatbed trailers.

Nathan Cole climbed out of the lead truck, wearing a faded blue shirt and carrying a clipboard.

“The weather is clear for the next ten days,” Nathan said, squinting up at the sun. “But we have to work fast.”

“The utilities are scheduled to be shut off at noon,” I said.

A service van from Austin Energy turned into the driveway right on cue.

Two workers in blue uniforms got out and began locking out the main electrical box at the property line.

By one o’clock, the house was dark, silent, and dead.

Nathan’s crew moved with quiet, military precision.

They did not look like standard movers; they looked like a salvage team.

They began by removing the cedar siding that covered the marriage line where the two modular halves met.