Chapter 7 - A New Foundation in the Soil
The transition was not easy, but it was clean.
Over the next two months, Robert and Helen Montgomery sold the house in Cherry Creek. The real estate market was hot, and the house sold within three weeks to a young couple from California. After paying off the remaining mortgage and the agent fees, they walked away with two hundred and eighty thousand dollars in cash.
They bought a small, one-level townhouse in a quiet, tree-lined community in Aurora, just as Thomas had suggested. It had a small patio, but no large garden. Robert had to buy a small, used sedan with his own money to get around.
For the first time in forty years, they had to look at prices at the grocery store. They had to turn off the lights when they left a room to save on the electricity bill. They had to live like ordinary people.
And Thomas?
Thomas found himself with an extra forty-three hundred dollars a month in his bank account.
The first thing he did was cut his own hours. He hired a full-time manager for The Daily Bread, a young woman named Maria who had been his head waitress for years and wanted to learn the business. This allowed Thomas to be home every day by 3:00 p.m., just as his children were coming home from school.
The second thing he did was buy a small, five-acre plot of land just outside the city limits, near the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
It wasn't a fancy estate. It was an old farm property with a small, sturdy farmhouse that needed a lot of love, a large red barn with a sagging roof, and several acres of rich, dark soil that had been left fallow for years.
"We're going to build a farm," Thomas told his children on a sunny Saturday in October, as they stood in the middle of the empty field. The mountains rose behind them, their peaks already dusted with early snow, looking like giant, sleeping guardians of stone.
"A real farm, Dad?" Rebecca asked, her eyes shining. "With animals?"
"With chickens, a couple of goats, and a big greenhouse where we can grow our own vegetables for the diners," Thomas said. "And a big yard where you can run around without anyone telling you to clear the tables."
"Can I have a tractor?" Jacob asked, jumping up and down. "A green one?"
"We'll get a small one," Thomas laughed, catching the little boy in his arms. "And you can sit on my lap while we drive it."
For the next six months, the farm became their project.
They spent their weekends clearing weeds, painting the old barn a bright, clean red, and repairing the fences. Thomas taught Samuel how to use a hammer, and the eight-year-old took to it with quiet, intense concentration. Rebecca helped Thomas design the layout of the greenhouse, her drawings of flower beds and vegetable rows becoming the blueprints for their new life.
Even Chloe, Jacob’s mother, came out from Chicago for a week during the spring to help them plant the first crop of organic tomatoes and peppers. She stayed in a hotel downtown, but she spent her days on the farm, laughing with Thomas in the kitchen and teaching Jacob how to identify different herbs by their smell.
"You look different, Thomas," Chloe said to him one evening, as they sat on the porch watching the kids play tag in the twilight. "You look... lighter."
"I am lighter, Chloe," Thomas said, holding a cup of black coffee. "I stopped carrying things that didn't belong to me."
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"I'm glad," she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You were always a good man, Thomas. You just didn't know you were allowed to be happy."
"I know now," Thomas said.
