Grant leaned back in the seat, resting one arm along the side of the cab.
“You’ve got that look,” he said.
Burke glanced down. “What look?”
“Like nothing’s riding you for once.”
Burke didn’t answer right away. Just reached for the next section of lights, working them through the beam.
“Maybe,” he said finally.
That was it.
Grant nodded once to himself and bumped the lever, lifting him a few inches higher.
They worked another twenty minutes in steady rhythm—lift, hook, move—until the last strand ran clean across the far side of the barn.
“Alright,” Burke said, stepping back carefully in the bucket. “Try it.”
Grant killed the engine, hopped down, and crossed to the breaker mounted along the wall.
He flipped the switch.
For a half-second, nothing happened.
Then—
The barn came alive.
Warm light spilled through the rafters, catching on old wood and worn beams, stretching across the open space in a soft golden glow.
Dust lit up like it had been waiting for it.
Grant stood there, one hand still on the switch.
“Well,” Burke said quietly, climbing down, “that’ll do.”
Grant didn’t answer right away.
He looked around.
The place didn’t feel empty anymore.
“Think she’ll like it?” Burke asked.
Grant nodded once. “She’ll love it.”
The side door creaked open.
“Okay…” Izzy’s voice floated in. “That’s kind of amazing.”
Grant turned.
She stood just inside the doorway, hair pulled back, sleeves pushed up, a faint flush still in her skin from a morning in the kitchen.
She took a few steps in, looking up at the lights.
“You two have been busy.”
