Chapter 12: The Workshop in the Basement
With the legal restoration complete, David spent his weekends in the basement workshop.
He cleared away the cobwebs, oiled the vintage lathe, and sorted through his father's collection of hand tools. Mounted on the wall above the workbench was Charles’s original brass drafting set.
One Saturday morning, Helena came down the wooden stairs, carrying a tray with two cups of black coffee.
""What are you building?"" she asked, setting the tray on a clean corner of the workbench.
David smiled, holding up a polished piece of red cedar. ""A new dining table. Big enough to seat eight people. Out of solid wood that doesn't split when the weather changes.""
Helena ran her fingers over the smooth cedar grain. ""Your father always said cedar was the most forgiving wood. It bends under pressure, but it never rots.""
""He was a wise man,"" David said.
""He was an ordinary man who loved extraordinary things,"" Helena corrected gently. ""He loved truth, he loved this house, and he loved you children even when you were too blind to see it.""
David set down his sanding block and wrapped his arms around his mother, burying his face in her shoulder. ""Thank you for coming home, Mom.""
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Helena hugged him back, her touch firm, warm, and unconditional. ""I was always on my way home, David. It just took me a long time to find the road.""
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