Nathan Cole climbed out of the cab of a heavy-duty pickup truck.

He wore a yellow safety vest over his canvas jacket.

His boots made a sharp grinding sound on the gravel.

“We have a tight schedule, Alexandra,” Nathan said, checking his watch under the dome light.

“I know,” I said, wrapping my wool scarf tighter around my neck. “Can you do it?”

“The house is modular,” he said, pointing a flashlight toward the roofline. “Six main pods, bolted to the steel frame.”

“Once we unseal the utility lines and pop the structural collars, they lift right off.”

He waved his arm toward the road.

Three more flatbeds backed up the driveway, their reverse-beeps echoing off the hills.

A massive yellow mobile crane followed them, its steel stabilizers creaking as they extended.

The crew worked with the speed of a pit crew.

By eight o’clock, the high-pressure water valves were shut off and capped.

The electrical lines were disconnected from the main transformer at the street.

The air conditioning compressors were unbolted from their concrete pads.

Dylan stood next to me on the grass, holding a cardboard box of his old textbooks.