Chapter 14 - The Simple Life
Six months later.
The summer sun baked the wooden boards of the harbor pier, where small fishing boats bobbed gently on the incoming tide. The air was filled with the cries of seagulls, the smell of brine, and the steady thrum of boat engines.
At the end of the pier, inside a restored brick boathouse, a hand-painted wooden sign hung above the double doors: Coastal Woodworks & Restorations.
Inside, the sweet scent of fresh cedar sawdust and tung oil filled the workshop. Daniel stood over a workbench, wearing a simple flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, running a hand plane across a long plank of oak. The movement was rhythmic, steady, and peaceful.
His hands were no longer the soft, manicured hands of a corporate executive. They were calloused, nicked with small scratches, and stained with wood stain. His face was tanned by the sun, his eyes calm and rested.
A bell above the shop door chimed.
Daniel wiped his hands on a shop towel and stepped out from behind the counter. "Welcome, how can I—"
He stopped, a wide, genuine smile spreading across his face.
Amy stood in the doorway, wearing a pale yellow summer dress, her blonde hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Strapped to her chest in a linen carrier was seven-month-old Clara, wide-awake, her bright hazel eyes taking in the floating motes of sawdust in the sunlight.
"The boss said I could bring lunch to the master carpenter," Amy said, holding up a small woven picnic basket.
"The master carpenter is starving," Daniel laughed, walking over and kissing Amy softly on the cheek. He leaned down, gently tapping Clara's nose. "And what about you, little bird? Did you help your mother paint today?"
Clara let out a gleeful, bubbling laugh, kicking her tiny feet against the carrier.
They walked out to the small grassy knoll behind the workshop, overlooking the harbor. Amy spread a checkered blanket across the grass, laying out fresh bread, goat cheese, and summer peaches. Clara sat between them, happily banging a smooth wooden teething ring Daniel had carved from cherry wood.
"The town council approved the mural project this morning," Amy said, her face glowing with quiet pride. "They want the sea-life painting on the harbor library wall. It’s a three-month commission."
"That’s incredible, Amy," Daniel said, his eyes filled with genuine admiration. "I always knew your art belonged on public display, not locked away in a private penthouse."
Amy looked at him over the rim of her tea cup. Over the past half-year, they had lived in separate rooms in the stone cottage, slowly learning who they were without the distortion of wealth. Daniel had earned every meal, built his workshop with his own hands, and never once mentioned the corporate world he had left behind.
He was not trying to win her back. He was simply showing up, every single day, as a faithful partner and a devoted father.
"Eleanor called this morning," Amy said casually.
Daniel paused, lowering his sandwich. "How is she?"
"She stepped down from all her society committees," Amy replied softly. "She sold the mansion in the city. She bought a small Victorian home two towns over, near the botanical gardens. She asked if she could visit Clara this weekend."
Daniel looked at Amy, waiting for her judgment.
"I told her yes," Amy said, offering a gentle smile. "She wants to bake peach cobbler. Clara deserves to know her grandmother."
Daniel reached across the blanket, his hand covering hers. "Thank you, Amy."
She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her shoulder resting against his. "We’re building something real, aren't we?"
"Something that can never be broken by an audit," Daniel murmured, watching his daughter babble at a passing butterfly.
The peaceful afternoon seemed complete. But as Daniel reached into the picnic basket for a napkin, his hand brushed against a sealed manila envelope at the bottom.
May you like
He pulled it out, frowning. "What's this?"
Amy’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a calm, solemn seriousness. "That arrived at the post office box this morning from the state penitentiary. It's an invitation to a parole and clemency hearing."
