*SNIP.*
The wide red ribbon spanning the stone bridge parted, fluttering in the warm river breeze.
The two hundred people in the pavilion leaped to their feet in a thunderous, standing ovation that rolled down the canyon of the Cocalico Creek like summer thunder.
Truck horns blasted; church bells chimed from the village down the ridge; and thirty veteran stone masons threw their hard hats into the air in pure, unreserved jubilation.
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Chloe ran up the stone approach, her small hand holding a freshly picked bouquet of wild black-eyed Susans and sweetgrass.
She vaulted into Arthur’s arms, throwing her small, strong arms around his neck, pressing her soft cheek against his weathered temple as the old builder lifted her high above his shoulders against the sapphire Pennsylvania sky.
