“The story is blowing up,” Nathan said. “But don’t worry. The trucks are secure at the holding yard, and we’re ready for phase two.”

“When do we start?” I asked.

“The foundations at the hill country site are already cured,” Nathan said. “Your father’s land in Dripping Springs is perfect for this layout.”

I pictured the quiet acreage my father had bought decades ago.

It was a rolling stretch of land covered in live oaks and wild grass.

“We can start reassembling the structure tomorrow,” Nathan said.

“Let’s do it,” I said. “I want my children to have their home back.”

“I’ll coordinate the transport permits,” Nathan said. “See you at the site at eight.”

I hung up and looked at Chloe.

“We’re going to rebuild,” I told her.

“On Grandpa’s land?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “On Grandpa’s land.”

She smiled, the tension leaving her shoulders for the first time in months.

We drove back toward Sarah’s house to pack our bags.

As we entered the living room, the television was playing on a low volume.

An anchor was speaking over a graphic of Richard’s face.