Bad LuckA squeeze of the power drill and I had the last screw in place at the bottom of the dining room door. Pleased with my efforts, I packed the drill in its plastic carry case. Mario would no doubt be dismayed by the holes I had drilled into that ancient wood but my personal safety was paramount.
I went and stood in the doorway to the vestibule. It was not going to be pleasant camping at the house, even during the day, even on a weekend when I had the place to myself. What I had previously taken in at a glance now I absorbed in detail, the overwhelming scale of the restoration affecting every corner of the building. I had no idea how long it would take but even with an army of men on the job—minus Cliff—I couldn't see the project completed in six months. They had been at work about tw
