Semua Bab My Billionaire Ex- Husband’s Nemesis : Bab 141 - Bab 150

ARIA'S POVThe sun was high and fierce by the time Theo, Julian, and David carried the assembled oak timber frame up the winding flagstone path to the upper spring.The structure was deceptively simple four massive posts locked together by deep mortise and tenon joints, secured with hand-carved locust pegs that David had whittled himself down in the workshop. Yet, forged from seasoned white oak, it weighed nearly three hundred pounds. The three men moved in an unspoken, synchronized rhythm, their boots digging into the dry dirt of the upper terrace as they aligned the base over the ancient stone coping."Easy on the south corner," Julian directed, his voice calm and steady as he guided the heavy rear timber. "We need the tenon to drop flush into the original iron shoes before we set the crossbeam."David shifted his grip, his bare forearms corded with strain, sweat glistening on his temples. There was no hesitation in his hands, no frantic checking of angles or reaching for a digita

ARIA'S POVThe forge had sat cold since the heavy snows of January, its thick stone hearth dark, silent, and filled with a deep layer of fine grey ash. Down in the pit behind the main workshop, Kat stood with her hands resting firmly on her hips, inspecting the ancient, folded ox-hide of the main furnace bellows with a critical, practiced eye.The heavy leather had dried out severely over the bitter winter months, stiffening and cracking along its flex seams until it hissed uselessly whenever the foot pedal was depressed. Cold air escaped through a dozen hairline fractures instead of rushing toward the hearth, rendering the entire assembly incapable of holding or building a fire."It’s not torn beyond saving," Kat evaluated, running her calloused fingers along the stiff, creased leather flaps. "It’s just parched to the bone. If we fire the forge without oiling and feeding this hide first, the air pressure will split the seams wide open on the first stroke."Silas dropped a heavy wo

ARIA'S POVThe tin cup of warm spring water trembled slightly in Thomas’s hand as he sat on the cedar bench, his back resting against the sturdy pine uprights of the porch overhang.We had learned his name only moments ago, after David brought out a broad wooden chair from the dining hall the fifteenth seat at the long board and set it near the center of the table where the lantern light was warmest. Thomas hadn't rushed to drink or eat. He held the water in both hands, letting the heat of the earthenware mug warm his stiff, dust-caked knuckles while his eyes drifted slowly from face to face down the length of the board."I walked through the valley three years ago," Thomas said, his voice a low, raspy whisper that sounded like dry gravel shifting in a creek bed. He set the cup down with deliberate care. "Back then, the lower gap was choked with fallen timber and barbed wire. There was a rusted sign nailed to an oak post warning travelers that trespassers would be shot without notic

ARIA'S POVBy three o'clock in the afternoon, the summer heat had settled deep into the valley, baking the granite crags until the air above the high terrace shimmered like molten glass.Down behind the carpenter’s shed, Julian had spread three large sheets of heavy, unbleached drafting paper across the wide workbench, weighing down the corners with smooth river stones. In his hand, he held a piece of soft red chalk, drawing clean, geometric lines that intersected at crisp forty-five-degree angles.Julian wasn't alone at the table. David leaned over the left edge, holding a brass slide caliper, while Thomas sat on an inverted oak stump nearby, meticulously cleaning his wooden walking stick with a rag soaked in linseed oil."If we extend the porch overhang eight feet to the west," Julian explained, tapping the red chalk against the paper, "we can double the roof coverage over the long oak table. But we can't just butt a new rafter into the old stone wall the winter snow load off the

ARIA'S POVBy four o'clock in the afternoon, the shadow of the walnut tree had stretched all the way across the upper yard, covering the workbench in a cool, dark blue calm.Thomas stood over the finished pine slab, wiping his brow with a damp linen rag. Using an iron auger, he and Julian had bored four deep, angled socket holes into the underside of the seat, taking care to pitch them outward at an exact twelve-degree splay for maximum stability. Beside them on the sawhorses lay four thick, hand-turned legs carved from seasoned white oak, their upper tenons split down the middle to accept dry locust wedges."Hand me the mallet, David," Thomas said, setting the first oak leg into its socket.David picked up the heavy wooden mallet from the grass and handed it over, stepping in close to hold the heavy slab steady against his hip.Thomas lined up his swing and brought the mallet down onto the foot of the oak leg with three deliberate, booming strikes. Thud, he set a slim locust wedge