On my third day in the Yuca Valley I woke to see that both my cucumber vines and onion bulbs had sprouted. The tomatoes had grown visibly from the day before, but they were still maturing. It was very nice being able to see the little plots of vegetables from the front windows of the house.

I had some rolled oats with a dollop of honey, topped with a sliced banana for breakfast, then headed out to do some work. I'd been so focused on buying groceries and manchester that I hadn't even bought any seeds from The Burrow while I was there. Clearly, I was doing an amazing job as a farmer so far.

By the time I'd watered my three crops and prepared another spot for whatever crop I decided to buy in town today, my energy bar was already dipping below half. I hadn't even prepared the soil or anything yet, and my limited energy was going to be a serious handicap. There was an icon that showed some buffs, and one of those had Energy+ next to it. It was a little ambiguous, but I figured that it meant my energy was regenerating. It was just happening very, very slowly.

Or maybe it couldn't regenerate while I was exerting myself? I didn't really know the ins and outs of how all this worked just yet, so I did an experiment. I worked for about ten minutes and kept my energy bar visible. It kept going down despite the supposed energy regeneration effect. But when I sat down for about the same length of time, my energy bar replenished a little. It wasn't much, but it did rise again, putting my energy levels just over halfway. So it looked like I did need to rest in order to replenish my reserves.

Luckily I'd picked up some new books to read in my downtime. Oh no, I was being forced to take breaks!

There were some errands I needed to run today, and I was looking forward to going to Morning Ritual for a takeaway coffee. I was also looking forward to seeing Quinn again, but I tried to keep that part of my mind quiet. You couldn’t risk messing things up with the people at your favorite coffee shop. That would add a whole new level of awkwardness into life.

I really wanted to keep things short and sweet in town today, because I had a lot of work to keep my going out here. Once I'd done everything I could do at the farm, I jumped behind the wheel of the Matsuda and headed into town.

It was nice to be able to drive without having to wear glasses or worry about being able to see things in the distance clearly. I'll tell you what, getting old sucks, and I was thankful for every minute of youthful clarity this second chance gave me.

The streets of Yucaborough were once again not busy with cars, and parking spots along the main street were plentiful. Carl and Jimmy gave me a wave when I pulled up in front of Morning Ritual, and I waved back. Then I headed inside for a coffee.

Quinn gave me a disappointed look when I walked in the door, and for a second I thought I'd done something very wrong.

“Damn it. The hex I put on your coffee yesterday didn't work. I tried to turn you into a pumpkin, but look at you, you’ve still got legs and everything,” she said with a sly grin.

“Wrong season for pumpkins. Try again in Fall,” I said.

Quinn laughed. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. What can I get you today, Farmer Jackson?”

“Surprise me,” I said.

“Ooh, that's dangerous.”

I shrugged. “Sometimes you have to take a gamble.”

Quinn gave me a coy smile as I paid, and I made way for the next customer in line. I stood to the side and waited for Quinn to make the coffee, covering my eyes when I noticed her looking at me. I heard her laugh, then I peeked over the top of my hand.

“Don't you dare ruin the surprise!” she said, and I looked away.

Half a minute later she called out. “Okay farmer boy, give this a shot.”

“What kind of curse did you put on this one?” I asked as I lifted the coffee cup to my lips. I took a sip and a wonderful flavor washed over me. It was sweet, yet woody, with a lingering flavor that somehow reminded me of going hiking through the woods.

“That's a special blend I've been working on. Eye of newt, bat wings, powdered nightshade root,” she said with a wink. “Just kidding, obviously. It's a hickory coffee blend. Oh, and there's something on the bottom of the cup too.”

I lifted the cup and saw a sequence of numbers there. “It this the mathematical equation to turn me into a zombie slave or something?”

“It's my phone number, you idiot.”

“I do have my grandpa's old notebook with all of his contacts in it,” I said.

“I guarantee he doesn't have that one. That's my... personal number.”

“Oh. Oh!” I said, finally getting it.

“You really were meant for the country life. Pretty to look at, but kind of slow. How did the city not eat you alive?” Quinn teased.

I guess I was kind of slow on that front. It had been a few decades since I'd really been flirted with, and my mind was still getting used to my new reality. I was a handsome guy, an eligible bachelor, who owned his own house and land, and would soon be the owner of a profitable business.

“Why do you think I was so ready to leave?” I replied.

“Life floats along to a very different cadence here, that’s for sure. Now I understand if you don't use that right away, what with you being busy and all, but I do want you to call me.”

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“How's tonight?”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Tonight is just fine, farmer boy.”

“I'll talk to you then.”

“You'd better!” she called out as I walked out of Morning Ritual.

I didn't know whether I was ready to jump into anything serious, but Quinn was a hell of a lot of fun, with a quick wit and a sardonic edge that I enjoyed. I could only imagine what she did for fun in her free time. If she wanted me to call her, she probably wanted me to ask her out on a date. But I couldn't ask her out for coffee. The only other coffee house here was the doily-covered grandma place, and I didn’t think that was her scene.

I'd need to think of something fun. But that could wait until after I'd done something decidedly not fun. It was time to go and see my grandpa's lawyer. I had just enough time to do that before I was meant to have my first monster hunting lesson.

The legal firm was called Tom Pertwee & Associates, and my grandpa's lawyer was the titular Tom. He was the only lawyer in town, so I wasn't really sure who the 'and associates' part of his practice name was referring to. I headed in and was greeted by another beautiful young woman named Leanne. She looked like a straight-laced bookish type, who wore elegant glasses and had her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.

How on Earth did every single place in this town have gorgeous young women working for them?

“Can I help you?” Leanne asked.

I gave her the spiel about who I was and why I was here. “Is Tom available? I just need to get a copy of my grandpa's will for the bank to sort some finances out.”

“I'm in here!” a thin reedy voice came from the crack between the door and frame of Tom Pertwee's office. “You can come on through, lad.”

I walked into the office, and I swear I saw a zombie sitting in the massive easy chair behind the huge wooden desk. The sunken eyes, sucked in cheeks, and the pallid cast to his skin gave him the look of a movie monster. But the truth was that Tom Pertwee was older than old. He was ancient.

“Hello Tom, I guess you heard who I was?”

“I did. You've got some identification on you, I assume?”

I took my wallet out of my pocket and handed it over. “Here you go.”

He lifted it close to his eyes, which were sunken beady little specks under his skull-like brow. “That'll do nicely. I have the power of attorney here in relation to his estate, and here is a copy of the will for you.”

Tom handed me a green folder, and I opened it to check that it was all in order. It appeared to be, so I tucked it under my arm.

“Thank you, Tom.”

“You’re very welcome, young man. Now your grandfather didn’t have much cash wealth to speak of, but the value of the farm should more than make up for that. There is one thing that I would recommend doing as quickly as you can, and that’s popping over to the bank to talk about the lien on the property.”

“There’s a lien on the farm?”

“Your grandfather hasn’t been able to work for quite some time, and he’s done so much for the town that Mister Stern at the bank took pity on him. He essentially gave him enough money to live out the remainder of his days in quiet comfort.”

“How much money are we talking about here?”

“I believe the lien on the mortgage is considerable, but I don’t have the figures myself. I believe your Grandfather thought that one of two things would happen when you inherited the farm. Either you would remain in your life in Zazen Town and you would engage with a real estate broker here in town to sell the property in your name, or you could return here and inherit not only the farm but also any liabilities associated with it. Either way, he knew the farm would pay for the debt one way or the other.”

“How much would you say that the farm and the land is worth?”

“I am no real estate agent, nor am I a valuer, but your grandfather showed me an offer from a few years ago in the high six hundreds.”

“Six hundred thousand dollars?” My eyes went wide. Even with an outstanding lien, the farm was worth over half a million dollars? In the time I had died, that was not a lot of money. To get a decent house within 45 minutes of the city, you were looking at anywhere between one and two million dollars.

The multiple global financial crises that our world went through between the advent of the millennium and my death in the 2060s made inflation go through the roof. Back when my mother had me, it was not unheard of for a single parent to be able to afford a house or an apartment on a single wage. By the time I died, you often needed a couple who both had high paying jobs, or multiple families banding their resources together, just to afford to get into the real estate market. And even then, luck played a huge factor.

If $250 was enough to keep food on the table and the light’s burning in this world for a month, then half a million bucks would go a very long way. Even if there were loans leveraged against the house, I could sell this place and go and see everything this world had to offer.

There was a moment when I considered selling everything and leaving, but it passed in an instant. I was on the cusp of having everything I had always wanted in my last life, and I didn’t want to let the allure of a get rich quick scheme derail me from what I really wanted.

When I met Tom Pertwee’s eyes again, he was smiling. “I recognize that look. So, you’re going to keep the farm then?”

“Yes, I think I will. Besides, it's already in bad shape. If it’s worth six hundred thousand now, if I put the work in and turn it back into something that my grandpa would be proud of, then it can only increase the value, right?”

“Of course it will. You should know that your grandfather loved that land and that house almost as much as he loved your mother. You would be doing your family legacy proud if you restored it to its former glory. I know he always wanted great grandchildren running about the place. Here, I have some photos to give you as well.”

Tom handed over an envelope filled with old school film photographs. The envelope was not sealed, so I opened the flap and flipped through the photos.

These were photos from a time when my mother was a young girl. Grandpa Joe was in a lot of the photos, and the smile on my mother’s face was infectious. There was one photo where she had a mouthful of strawberries, they were packed in there so tightly they put my she was almost choking. Red chewed up strawberry juice dribbled down the front of her face and onto her yellow summer dress. I couldn’t help but grin at the joy on her face. There were other photos there of my grandfather tending his fields of crops, riding on the back of a horse, and using a horse-drawn plough to ready his fields for plantation.

It suddenly dawned on me who must have taken these photos. “Did you take these?”

He nodded and smiled fondly. “I certainly did. Your grandfather and I were very good friends, and it hurts my heart to know but I’m living in a world where he is not. But I can see him in you, Jackson. I see his same grit, determination, and a drive. I have no doubt he’s watching over you.”

“I think you might be right about that,” I said, thinking back to the letter he’d left me. He wanted me to seek him out on his birthday, and I planned to do just that.

“You should keep those photographs, Jackson.”

“Thank you. I will,” I said, then glanced up at the clock on Tom’s wall.

The minute hand was five minutes away from 10am, and I was about to be late for my monster hunting lesson.

“I’m sorry Tom, but I have to go. Thank you for all of this! Please, if you ever want to come and visit the farm, please do. You’ve got my number, yeah?”

“Memorized, and it’s never going anywhere. Not until my brain stops working,” Tom said with a mirthless laugh.

“Call around any time. I mean it! I’m sure you’ve got some stories about my grandfather to tell.”

“A million and one. Get going, young man!”

And so I did. I ran out into the street, then ran as fast as I could towards the Monster Hunter’s Guild.