//CLARA//
I walked through the dusty floors with a measuring tape in one hand and a sketch in the other. My idea of manual labor was carrying a laptop to a coffee shop, but standing in the hollowed-out mill, I felt a rush of adrenaline I hadn't felt in a while.
Oliver was already there, marking walls and muttering about load-bearing beams. Beatrice had come along to keep me company again, which really meant she wanted an excuse to watch Oliver work. I did not blame her.
"That south wall needs reinforcement," Oliver called out. "Mr. Evans mentioned water damage from the previous tenant."
I recorded the detail in my ledger.
"Machinery goes here," he continued, tapping a fresh chalk mark on the floor. "Assembly line along the back wall, shipping dock at the far end."
I followed his lead, my mind already pivoting from architecture to logistics.
"We'll need to start interviewing soon. Finding skilled labor in this neighborhood is going to be our biggest hurdle."
