She drove through forests, past green fields full of white-and-black Holsteins grazing, and through tiny, picturesque villages with gazebos and little white churches. It was all postcard perfect: a landscape without the billboards, big-box stores, strip malls, and eight-lane highways she was used to in Connecticut. She thought of her father and how he always talked about building a cabin out in the woods, someplace where he could hear himself think. He would have loved this: all the forests and fields, how the air smelled fresh and green. It was like going back in time. She imagined the landscape had changed little since Hattie’s time. There were paved roads and power lines now, but the hills, mountains, and fields were no doubt the same. Had Hattie ever come this way, riding in a Model T perhaps, or on the train, along the old tracks Helen spotted running beside the road here and there?

After forty-five minutes, she saw the sign welcoming her to Lewisburg, HOME OF THE STATE CHAMPION LEWISBURG LIONS! She found the old mill without any problems: a sprawling brick complex along the riverbank. There were construction vehicles of all sorts: a bulldozer and crane, trucks full of lumber, a fleet of electrical contractor vans. Helen pulled up alongside a sign advertising one-, two-, and three-bedroom condos and commercial spaces for rent. She parked the truck and got out.

“All right, Hattie,” she muttered to herself as she stood looking at the brick building nearest her. “What am I doing here?”

She walked down a brick-lined path to one of the buildings, where a sign on the front door warned, HARD HAT AREA. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

“Applications are over at the office,” a voice behind her said.

“Huh?” She turned, saw a tall, wiry guy in a white hard hat. He was wearing clean khaki pants and a blue button-down shirt and carrying a clipboard. A foreman or manager, she figured.

“There’s an office set up in that blue trailer back there,” he told her, gesturing with his thumb. “You can pick up information and an application for the condos, apartments, office spaces.”

“Actually,” Helen said, “I was just hoping to have a look around. I’m interested in local history and I understand the mill was once an important part of the town.”

He nodded. “It sure was. Until the fire anyway. I suppose you can look around, if you want. Just steer clear of the work areas, okay? It’s not safe.” He started to turn away.

“Do they know what caused it?” Helen asked. “The fire?”

“I’m not sure they ever found out,” he said. “The worst of the damage was down at the north end.”

“Where’s that?” Helen asked.

“Here, I can show you,” he said. “I was heading down that way anyway.”