Arthur had spent decades caring for the estate, his hands deep in the soil, making sure every flower bloomed and every hedge stood tall. He knew every corner of the sprawling grounds like the back of his hand. But today, something felt different. Margaret, from the kitchen, hurried over to him, her face pale with worry.
“Arthur, have you heard?” she asked breathlessly. “Mr. Stuart is coming home today. He’s taking over everything.”
Arthur nodded slowly, his mind already racing. “Yes, I heard.”
The day he had feared since old Mr. Jared passed was finally here. Arthur had served the estate for years, seeing the seasons change, the flowers bloom, and the trees grow. It had been his life’s work, and Jared had been more than just an employer — he was a friend.
“Will we lose our jobs?” Margaret’s voice was small against the quiet of the vast estate.
“We do our jobs,” Arthur replied, though his heart was heavy. “That’s all we can do.”
He didn’t say it out loud, but deep inside, he felt a deep ache when he thought of Jared. It wasn’t just the loss of a boss; it was the loss of a companion who had stood by him through thick and thin.
Arthur’s thoughts drifted back to the days when Jared was alive. They had worked together in the small garden behind the house, among the climbing roses and stubborn weeds. Those days had been filled with laughter, stories, and even silence, moments that were now gone forever.
“Grandpa, I finished my homework. Can I help with the planting?”
Arthur looked up to see his 14-year-old grandson, Eli, standing at the edge of the garden. Eli had become the light of his life ever since the tragic accident two years ago that had taken his daughter and son-in-law. Eli had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and was always eager to help.
“Sure, come on over,” Arthur said, handing him a gardening trowel. “We’re planting the spring bulbs today.”
They worked together in quiet companionship. But as they dug into the soil, the sound of tires on gravel broke the peace. Arthur looked up just in time to see a sleek car pull up to the main house. Stuart, Jared’s son, stepped out.
“Is that him?” Eli asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Arthur nodded, watching as Stuart surveyed the property with an arrogant air, just as he had when he was a boy. He hadn’t seen Stuart in years, but it was clear that the boy had grown into a man full of entitlement.
“Remember what I told you, Eli,” Arthur said quietly. “Be respectful, keep your distance, and never let anyone make you feel small.”
“Never let anyone make me feel small,” Eli repeated, and Arthur smiled at the memory of his daughter’s words, spoken when she was young.
The first few weeks under Stuart’s rule were harder than Arthur could have imagined. The staff was on edge, tiptoeing around the new master of the house, who found fault with everything. Stuart’s presence was like a storm cloud hovering over the once peaceful estate.
“Arthur, isn’t it?” Stuart asked one afternoon, as though he had never seen Arthur before. “The gardener my father was so fond of.”
“Yes, sir,” Arthur replied, trying to hide his discomfort as he continued his work.
“These hedges are uneven, and the roses are half-dead,” Stuart complained. “My father may have tolerated mediocrity, but I expect excellence.”
Arthur clenched his fists but forced a calm smile. “I’ll see to it right away, sir.”
“See that you do,” Stuart said before walking away with a sneer.
Arthur sighed deeply, trying to push the sting of the words aside. He needed this job, and losing it was not an option.
As the weeks dragged on, the estate grew more chaotic. Stuart’s parties were louder, more extravagant, and his guests more reckless. Expensive cars roared through the gardens, scattering gravel, and planters were knocked over without a second thought.
One morning, as Arthur was composting the garden beds, he heard rapid footsteps approaching. Stuart stormed up to him, his face twisted with anger.
“You! Old man!” Stuart yelled, his voice harsh and accusing.
Arthur straightened up slowly, wincing as his knees protested the movement. “Good morning, Mr. Stuart,” he said, trying to keep his tone polite.
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me!” Stuart snapped. “Did you see what happened to my car? Someone scratched the paint. Was it your grandson? That quiet, sneaky kid?”
“Eli was at school yesterday, sir,” Arthur explained. “He’s been there all week.”
“Well, someone did it!” Stuart fumed. “And since you’re supposed to be watching this place—”
“I’m the gardener, sir, not security.”
Arthur instantly regretted his words, but before he could apologize, Stuart’s face contorted with rage.
“I’ve had enough of your attitude,” Stuart snarled. “You think just because my father liked you, you’re untouchable? Look at this mess! My dog could rake better than you. You’re nothing but a leftover from my father’s pity. Consider today your last day. I want you off my property by sunset.”
Arthur’s heart sank, but he didn’t let it show. He kept his face neutral as Stuart stormed away. As the sound of his footsteps faded, Arthur felt a strange calm wash over him. Maybe it was for the best.
He removed his gardening overalls and walked toward the small garden where he and Jared had spent countless hours together. The memories of those days hit him hard, and he knelt down by the familiar plants, his hands trembling.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jared,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “The least I can do is clear away the weeds before I go.”
As he worked, something caught his eye — a patch of earth that had been disturbed. Arthur’s heart raced. He knew this garden like no other, and something about this spot felt wrong. Someone had been digging here, leaving bulbs half-dead on the surface.
Curious, Arthur dug deeper into the soil. His fingers brushed against something hard. It didn’t take long before he uncovered a small wooden chest, its latch simple but secure.
His hands trembled as he opened it. Inside, neatly arranged, were bundles of cash, small gold bars, and a folded note. Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. He recognized the handwriting immediately. It was Jared’s.
“This is for you, friend. I know you need this! I love you. Your friend, Jared.”
Tears welled in Arthur’s eyes as he held the note to his chest. Even in death, Jared had found a way to look after him. The irony wasn’t lost on him — losing his job had led him to this moment, a final gift from a true friend.
Arthur didn’t return to the estate after that. The next day, he went to the bank and opened a safe deposit box, transferring everything from Jared’s chest into it. He placed the contents in Eli’s name, not for now, but for his future.
Arthur found work at the local high school, maintaining the grounds. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work, and he could be close to Eli during the day. He was content.
Two years passed, and Eli thrived in school, earning top grades and receiving offers for scholarships. He grew taller, stronger, but never lost his kind heart and curious mind.
One evening, Eli came running up to Arthur with a letter in his hand. “Grandpa! I got accepted into the summer science program!”
Arthur’s chest swelled with pride. “That’s wonderful news, Eli. Your parents would be so proud of you.”
Eli smiled, but his face was serious. “Do you think Mr. Jared would be proud of me too?”
Arthur paused, surprised by the question. “Yes, I think he would be very proud of you.”
As they continued their walk, Arthur thought about Jared, about the garden they had tended together, and about the seeds they planted that grew far beyond what they could see. Some gifts were not meant to be opened right away — they were meant to grow over time.
News of Stuart’s downfall reached Arthur through Margaret, who still worked at the estate. His reckless ways had finally caught up with him. He lost everything — the estate, the cars, and whatever illusion of control he had once had.
“They say he’s moving out next week,” Margaret told Arthur one afternoon. “The bank’s selling the place.”
Arthur nodded but didn’t feel the satisfaction he thought he would. “That’s a shame.”
“A shame? After how he treated you?” Margaret shook her head. “Arthur, you’re too kind for your own good.”
Maybe she was right. But bitterness wasn’t something Arthur could afford, not with Eli watching and learning from every word, every action.
One evening, as Arthur and Eli walked through the park, Eli asked again, “Grandpa, are you ever going to tell me what was in that box you brought from the estate?”
Arthur looked at him, no longer a boy but not yet a man. “When you’re ready,” Arthur said with a gentle smile. “When the time is right.”
Eli frowned, curious. “And when will that be?”
“When you’ve built a foundation strong enough that it won’t change who you are,” Arthur replied, his voice full of wisdom. “Some gifts aren’t meant to be opened right away.”
And as they walked together into the future, Arthur thought about the gardens, the people they had touched, and how some gifts — just like the seeds they planted — grew long after they were gone.
