Chapter 9 - The Model in the Meadow
Six months later. Early summer.
The rolling green hills of the Hudson Valley were bathed in the golden light of a late afternoon sun.
A hour’s drive north of Manhattan, on a high cliff overlooking a quiet bend in the river, sat a ten-acre plot of land surrounded by wild oak trees and blooming wildflowers.
In the center of the meadow, heavy construction equipment sat quiet for the weekend, beside concrete foundations that had just been poured.
Ethan stood near the center of the site, wearing boots, jeans, and a rolled-up white shirt, holding a large roll of architectural blueprints spread across a wooden work table.
Beside him, holding a pair of heavy brass calipers and a pencil behind her ear, was Hannah.
Avery, now five years old, was running through the long grass nearby, wearing a bright yellow sunhat, laughing as she chased butterflies with her golden retriever puppy.
“The living room windows need to be rotated three degrees east,” Hannah said, leaning over the blueprints, her dark hair brushing against Ethan’s shoulder. “If we catch the morning light over the river, the whole main hall will be naturally lit until noon.”
Ethan looked down at her face, watching the light dance in her green-flecked hazel eyes. “You always were better at natural lighting design than I was.”
Hannah smiled, stepping around the table to look at the concrete foundation laid out before them.
It was the design from the old balsa wood model—the house they had dreamed of in their cramped studio apartment five years ago. But larger, stronger, built on an unshakeable foundation of truth and resilience.
And right at the front of the foundation, where the main entryway was being framed in solid oak, sat a heavy wooden door that had just arrived from the workshop.
It was painted a brilliant, vibrant, shining yellow.
Avery ran up to them, her cheeks rosy from the sun, clutching a handful of yellow dandelions.
“Is the door ready, Daddy?” she asked, looking up at Ethan with wide, happy eyes.
May you like
Ethan dropped to his knees in the grass, picking up his daughter and lifting her onto his shoulder as she giggled with joy.
“The door is ready, Avery,” Ethan said, holding Hannah’s hand tightly in his. “We’re moving in before winter.”
