“The structural bolts are tightened,” Nathan said. “The water is hooked up, and the generator is running.”

“The main power grid connection will be completed by the county tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Nathan,” I said, shaking his hand. “You did a wonderful job.”

“It was a unique project, Alexandra,” he said, smiling. “Enjoy your first night in the hills.”

He climbed into his white truck and drove down the path, his tires crunching softly on the gravel.

The silence of the valley returned, vast and deep.

I walked up the temporary wooden steps and pushed open the front door.

The familiar scent of oak flooring and fresh paint greeted me.

But the view through the large floor-to-ceiling windows was entirely different now.

Instead of the crowded rooftops of Westlake Hills, I looked out at miles of rolling green hills.

In the distance, the limestone cliffs of the river valley glowed pink in the late afternoon sun.

I walked into the kitchen and touched the marble countertops.

They were covered in a fine layer of drywall dust from the journey.