Chapter 1


    My story begins in a humble lodging, an ancestral home belonging to Theodore Woven. His lodging


    was situated by the icy coast, ced upon the highest hill for all to see. Grey granite bricks were built


    from the ground upwards, towering over the sea-line where his simple white boat was but a dot in the


    distance. Theodore the second - his official title - lived in this housing alone. His onlypanion was a


    sleek white cat named, “Luna,” whom he had found as a hungry stray many years ago.


    The first time I had set eyes on his home was on the twenty-first of April, on a warm balmy day that


    would ideally make my job easier. I was to take up my supervisor’s position and tend to his private


    gardens for the next week, while her husband was in the hospital. I was informed it would be a


    rtively easy task if I followed one simple instruction: to leave the master of that house alone.


    ***


    Olive coloured rain-boots sshed against the dewy grass, squishing loudly with each step as I strode


    over the endless field that led to the tall brick building atop of the hill. An umbre was squeezed tightly


    in my hand. It was drizzling outside, but it was not enough to dissuade me from paying this house a


    visit. I had a map in my left hand, a circle around Mr. Woven’s lodging to help me on my way as I


    wandered around this unfamiliar vige.


    It was just after dawn, and the sun was shining full strength despite the light water droplets drizzling


    from the sky. It was unusually warm weather as well,pelling me to unzip my ck raincoat to let it


    swing at my sides. The house was bing clearer now; a thick array of green vines crept up the side


    of the brick wall. There wererge green hedges streamed beside it, and fern trees half covering the


    windows. I spotted a small trail of a brick pathway leading up to the house, so I moved over to the left


    to navigate myself towards that well-trodden path. A vintage bike was parked outside of the front


    doorway, glossy with a cheery red shine that glistened in the golden sunlight. There was a shed to the


    left of the house; it was painted with a pale ruddy colour that had faded over the years. I could only


    assume the supplies I needed would be there, but first I must introduce myself to the owner.


    I knocked on the door, and then looked around to see Mr. Woven’s property was devoid of all people.


    His house was somewhat isted, though the picturesque view of the blue sea made up for it.


    A heavy lock sounded from the inner quarters, and then I heard the creaking of a door as it slowly


    opened. In time I saw a man standing before me; his tall, lean stature easily overwhelmed me as I


    barely met the top of his chest. He had a proud look to him with dark eyes and a sharp, angr nose.


    His lips were tightly pursed as he looked down at me. I could feel a wave of scrutiny from him, and


    once he was satisfied with his silent examination, the stranger in front of me opened the door a tad bit


    wider. “Good morning,” he drawled in a lifeless voice.


    “Good morning,” I answered him.


    There was a light meow behind the man, prompting him to look over his shoulder to find the cat that


    was vying for his attention. He took a step back, allowing me to see the small creature with soft blue


    eyes. The white cat tilted its head, trying to find the right angle to see the whole of my figure. The man


    abandoned his post and quickly swept the cat off the floor to cradle the creature lovingly. He


    approached the open doorway with the small white feline in his arms, allowing his right hand to stroke it


    softly as he reverted his attention to me. “How can I help you?”


    “My name is S. My supervisor’s name is Daphne.” I paused to see if this man disyed any


    recognition to my supervisor’s name. “Daphne Risson.”


    “Yes, I know who she is,” he eximed with disinterest.


    “Her husband is in the hospital right now. She has sent me to tend to your gardens for the week.”


    “An entire week?”


    “Yes, sir.”


    He nodded his head slowly, though he maintained that resolute dead-pan expression. “Come in,” he


    quipped, before he turned his back to me. I took the liberty of removing my damp coat once I stepped


    inside. The tall man shut the door behind me, and then let his plush grey slippers tread over the


    wooden floor as soft as a mouse. He had a certain glide to his walk, an effortless gait that reminded me


    of a noble aristocrat. He wore a white dress shirt buttoned up all the way but the sleeves were rolled up


    to expose his forearms. The cat was brought higher up his chest, allowing the bridge of his nose to


    stroke across the fur calmly. “Hang your coat up there,” hemanded. “There is a rack, you see.” He


    watched me perform this action quietly, and then suggested Iy my muddy boots on a stic mat next


    to the door. “Follow me,” he instructed, and then led me down the short hallway to take me into an


    unknown room.


    I entered his living room, observing the pristine order he maintained to the highest degree. There was a


    sleek ck piano ced next to the open window. The walls were cluttered over with paintings, images


    of far-away ces that I had never seen before. The soft patter of the catnding on the floor caught


    my attention, letting my eyes flicker back to its owner.


    “My name is Theodore Woven,” he stated. “But you may call me Teddy.” He raised up his chin proudly,


    almost expecting me tough at his statement. “I would prefer that to junior,” he added, before he


    confidently strode over to hisrge sofa.


    His cat hopped over the wooden bench, and then jumped a little higher tond on the piano. The paws


    were most concerned to not press down on the keyboard, so the cat moved in a certain way to stay


    along the wooden edges to not make a sound.


    “Your cat is beautiful.”


    “Luna,” he eximed. “She has been with me for quite some time.” He pointed to the right side of the


    couch. “Please, take a seat.”


    I inspected my clothes to make sure they were not dirty, and then I nervously took a seat on the other


    side of the couch.


    Luna leapt to the top of the piano and then tilted her head in a curious way, watching the flickering


    lights change as the clouds continued to drift past the sun. When I turned my attention to Mr. Woven he


    immediately dropped his gaze, not wanting me to discover that he had been watching me all along.


    “I trust Daphne gave you proper instructions.”


    “She did.”


    “I would have liked her to call me,” he deliberated aloud. “Is this very sudden?”


    “I am afraid it is.” My hands inteced together nervously. “Her husband had a stroke.”


    “Oh.”


    Mr. Woven looked down at his hands, examining the lines creasing his knuckles as he let his thoughts


    drift away. I took the liberty of studying his bookcase, and then the painting of a French vineyard that


    was ced behind me.


    “Am I to give you the wages then? I do direct deposit with her.”


    “Daphne will pay me out of pocket,” I assured him. “It will make things less awkward.”


    “You are quite early. Have you had something to eat?”


    “I don’t have a car, so I had to take an earlier bus. I did not want to bete on my first day.”


    “I see.”


    “I normally work on the other side of the vige. The south side, to be exact. I design and maintain the


    garden for business owners. Banks,w offices, dentistry’s-”


    “-but no private homes?”


    “No.”


    “Then this must be unusual for you,” he observed. Mr. Woven turned his head away from me, letting his


    gaze settle to the open window where the drapes lightly fluttered in the warm breeze. His cat was


    curled up in a ball over the piano, lost in a sweet slumber that I almost envied. “You never answered


    my question. Would you like something to eat?”


    “I have too much work to do.”


    “Nonsense!” He pushed himself off thefy couch and then straightened his back in a prideful way. “I


    have some muffins. Would that suit you?”


    “Yes, it would.”


    He patiently waited for me to rise from the sofa as well, and then led the way. We entered the hallway


    once again, allowing me to see the wooden staircase directly ahead of us. The walls were bare along


    the wall here, though the creamy beige ceiling with an intricate diamond pattern held my interest for a


    bit. Mr. Woven turned to the left, crossing over the curved archway to take two sets of stairs downwards


    to enter therge kitchen. There was a window to reveal the backyard, and a circr dining table with


    two chairs situated around it. His kitchen was incredibly clean; a half empty cup of coffee was ced at


    the edge of the table with the few remains of a torn sesame seed bagel covered in strawberry jam. He


    pulled out a chair to suggest I take it, and then turned his back to me to wash his hands under the


    kitchen sink. I could make out the light scent of zhini, a curious fragranceing from his liquid


    hand soap. I took the designated seat in front of a door, though I was satisfied enough to see that I


    could simply turn my head to see the garden.


    “I bought these muffins from a bakery yesterday.” I turned my head to see Mr. Woven lifting a pantry to


    obtain a set of pastries. “I have blueberry, chocte and banana and onest carrot muffin.”


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    “I will take the carrot.”


    “Very well.” He pulled it out with a set of tongs. “Coffee or tea?”


    “Coffee.”


    “You like it with cream or milk?”


    “I will have it ck.”


    He looked over his shoulders at me in disbelief before he returned to setting the muffin down on a


    designated te. He strode over to me with eyes intently gazing on my person. The te was set


    down in front of me, and then Mr. Woven took a deliberate step back. “Need a few minutes to set up


    the coffee.”


    “Take your time.”


    “I think I will have a second cup.” He moved away from the table, intent on starting the coffee machine.


    It was an old device, much like the rest of the items in his house. I thought Mr. Woven lived in a time-


    warp; an age forgotten, a time that had passed us long ago. He was the strangest of them all, for he


    had his dark brown hair brushed neatly to the side and sideburns that gave him a more distinguished


    look. I could only guess he was in his early thirties, but it was so hard to tell. “All the tools that you will


    ever need will be in the outside shed. You will have no need toe through the house. I detest any


    mess…” He looked over his shoulder to maintain a hardened gaze on me. “Of any kind.” He began to


    wash his hands, even though it wasn’t necessary. The running water droned out his voice a bit as he


    continued, “If you need me, knock on the front door and I shalle. If I am ying the piano, you may


    knock on the ss window. I find it harder to hear anything else when I am situated there.”


    “Yes, sir.”


    “Theo or Teddy will do,” he sharply quipped.


    “Why Teddy?”


    “It was a nickname I received as a child,” he answered with his back to me. I watched hisrge hands


    rung the stripped blue and white towel tightly. “It sort of stuck.” He clutched the towel even tighter as he


    added: “My mother called me that.”


    I nodded my head silently, deciding it was best to agree with my employer’s demands.


    The coffee machine made a screeching sound, signalling it was nearly done. I rested my arms over the


    table, letting it rest around the curve of the te as I silently watched the man work hard at drying off


    thest of the dishes. He hadrge hands, incredibly strong, and I could not help but notice he had not


    a single ring on his fingers. I imagined he must be lonely living in this house all alone, but he gave no


    inclination so far that it disagreed with him.


    “Do you want arge cup?”


    “Oh, not too much.”


    “Alright.” A pastel blue ceramic cup was raised into the air, and he made sure to wiggle it from side to


    side to get my attention. “This will do?”


    “Yes, thank you.”


    He walked over to my table and set the mug next to my right hand. “Will you being here every


    day?”


    “Yes.”


    “The same time?”


    “I believe so. Why?”


    “I will have coffee ready for you next time.” The coffee machine beeped at the perfect timing, allowing


    him to turn around to be attentive to the curious machinery. Luna appeared over the open doorway,


    stretching her back to the point that it curled upward. Her head was shaken once she was done, and


    then a tired yawn allowed her jaws to open to the fullest. I took in the sharp white fangs, and then


    watched aszy blue eyes turned in my direction with curiosity.


    “Did you name her after the moon?”


    “I did.” Teddy came over to retrieve my mug. “Do you think it suits her?”


    “With her white fur it does,” I mused aloud. I leaned to the right of the chair with my hand barely


    hovering over the ground. I waved my fingers for the small creature toe over, suddenly feeling the


    urge to pet her soft fur.


    “I would advise you to wash your hands once you touch her,” a deep baritone voice echoed over me. In


    the corner of my eye I could see Teddyying the mug down on the table. “We don’t know where she


    winds up to sometimes.”


    Luna ignored her master, simply scampering over to me to drag the side of her head against my hand.


    “Does Luna go outside?”


    “Oh, yes.”


    “She doesn’t get to any trouble?”


    “So far no, but I know she doesn’t like to go far. It is hard to find her at night, however, she isn’t one to


    sleep with her owner.”


    “Oh, that is too bad.”


    Teddy never replied to my statement. I brought the cat upwards to rest on myp. Luna purred as I


    swept my fingers along her back, enjoying the attention I was giving her.


    “S?” I looked upwards to see him hovering over a chair that was to my left. “Do you have any pets?”


    “My t is too small,” Iined. “Maybe when I have a ce of my own.”


    “You don’t have a ce to yourself?”


    “Well, the owner doesn’t like pets,” I exined. “And a cat would scratch up the furniture and walls,


    wouldn’t they?”


    “Unfortunately, yes.” A touch of milk was dropped into his coffee. “Would you have one? If you were


    allowed?”


    “I would feel less lonely,” I confided, as I continued to stroke my fingers over Luna. Her pink nose was


    intent on rubbing itself against the side of my hand, sending a dampness over the curve of my wrist.


    “She likes attention,” he warned. A tall white mug was raised into the air, half shielding his mouth from


    me. “I can tell she likes you as well.”


    “Does she like Daphne?”


    “Daphne is allergic to cats,” he regrettably answered me. “All the more reason for Luna to enjoy you.”


    The purring grew louder, sending a shadow of a smile to this man’s face. The sunlight revealed the


    clearness of his skin and absence of lines that made his exact age so hard to figure out. I could feel


    him studying me as well. There was something about me that secretly pleased him, and once his mind


    was made up, he took his first sip of coffee. I drew my hand away from Luna’s demanding presence


    and reached for my mug as well. Tiny slurps filled the air, since I was startled to find the water so piping


    hot. Teddy was ustomed to the temperature, allowing him to finish up his beverage faster than me.


    “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” I began. “But what do you do?”


    “What do you think?”


    “Oh, I have no idea. I suppose most men would be in their business attire and driving off to work by


    now.”


    “Most men, yes.”


    “Are you a musician?”


    “It is a hobby,” he coldly stated. “Nothing more than that.”


    “Then… what are you?”


    “I don’t like titles,” he fussed. “But if I must choose something… I am a painter.”


    “Oh, that makes sense now.”


    “I paintndscape and architecture mainly. I seldom do portraits, so please don’t ask that from me.”


    “Oh, I would never.”


    “Good,” he said with utter crispness. “Now, hand Luna to me.”