I.

It was a mellow evening on the Grant family’s estate. The retiring sun illuminated the Spanish moss hanging on the old oak trees, creating a magnificent display of natural chandeliers. The Grants’ house created a massive silhouette in front of the sparkling riverfront. Everyone associated the Grants with money. Old money, which had been passed down for generations, yes – but money nevertheless.

Alden, the gardener, stood pruning a wall of jasmine that clung to the house. His callused hands and knobby fingers shook a little as he trimmed, but he used utmost care in shaping the vine.

“We want to make the house look presentable,” Mrs. Grant had said with pride, but also a twinge of hesitation.

Alden shook his head in remembrance. There was no doubt that the house was impressive, but the bright brick of the mansion had faded to a washed out pink, and it looked like someone had taken a potato peeler to the paint on the shutters. For many years he had worked for the Grants, and he had always kept the greenery in pristine condition. The neighbors always stopped by to peek at his roses. Alden hoped his lawn work could at least clean up the front a little. He bent over and began weeding around the base of some knee level shrubs. I need to remember to have Mr. Grant reimburse me, Alden thought. He had purchased the shrubs at the hardware store, and Mr. Grant hadn’t paid him back yet. Oddly, it seemed like that had happened a couple times in the past few months. He wasn’t worried – they always got the money to him.

Wheezing after finishing his work, Alden dislodged his knees from the soil. The ache in his back seemed to linger a little longer each time he stood up. But as he gathered his tools, he heard the sound of a car’s engine outside the gate and smiled. That would be Mark, Alden thought. The Grants’ son, Mark, was coming for a visit. Even though Mark was a charismatic 26-year-old now, Alden still remembered the days Mark would tumble in the yard with his football. Alden had fetched hundreds of plastic arrows that soared into the bushes, built so many rope swings the old oak tree sagged, and washed the dirt off Mark’s knees before he had gone into the house. Playfulness, mischief, and compassion decided a friendship, though years separated the pair.

II. Mark released the gas pedal as he turned into his parents’ driveway and drew in his breath. He had been home a few months ago, but this time he was not alone, and he was preoccupied with the girl sitting in the passenger seat. It wasn’t hard to be impressed by her absorbing smile, chestnut curls, and easy manner. Would she be impressed with this? He wondered. He wanted her to look at the house and say, “Wow, it’s magnificent!” and to look at him and say, “I’m so lucky to have you.” That’s how he felt when he looked at her, after all.

Instead, the love of his life snickered, “You might want to tell your parents that their mailbox is broken.”

Mark sighed, “Yep, I will definitely tell them that.”

Up the driveway, Mark passed Alden heading toward his car. Mark rolled down his window.

“Wait! Don’t leave yet. I want you to meet Marie,” Mark shouted.

He thought he noticed a slight flash of distaste on Alden’s face, but it vanished quickly, turning into a thrilled smile. Mark jumped out of the car, determined to familiarize Alden and Marie.

After ushering Marie into the house to meet his parents, Mark turned back to Alden.

“Did I do okay?” Mark asked.

Alden’s wrinkles arched pensively.

“I hope – but be careful with your heart, Mark,” Alden said.

III. In the morning, Marie stepped out onto the back porch of the Grants’ house. Between the ripples of the river in front of her and the moisture in the dewy morning, she felt like she was submerged in water. Mrs. Grant’s boastful chatter during breakfast had made her head swim. I guess not many people do like their future in-laws, she thought. She remembered fixating on a massive silver punch bowl that sat on the buffet adjacent to the dining room table. It was tarnished and in need of a polish. Lost in what Mrs. Grant was babbling about, she imagined herself scrubbing the blemishes and the tarnishes away to reveal a brilliant and valuable piece. Once she was married to Mark, she felt like she could do a lot of polishing for the family. She’d put the wealth to proper use.

Marie came out of her thoughts as she saw Alden coming along to water the rose bushes.

“Your roses haven’t bloomed yet?” she said.

“Just this one bloom,” Alden said pointing to a single red bud. “Perhaps they are just late this season.”

Marie could sense that Alden didn’t feel comfortable around her. She knew Mark was close with him. Maybe he was suspicious of her worthiness.

“Do you mind if I help you?” Marie asked stepping down to the bushes. “Mark has told me a couple stories of your heroism in his childhood scrapes.”

Marie could see Alden’s face relax and knew that she gained an ally.

IV. The next afternoon Mark wandered into the living room.

“So I had said that we could go rent a boat this afternoon, but I don’t think I’m really up to it,” Mark said.

Marie looked annoyed. “What do you mean? We’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

Mark shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It’s pretty expensive.”

“You said that wasn’t an issue,” Marie said.

Mark nervously explained that he wasn’t comfortable lavishly spending money. Marie, deep in thought, arched her eyebrows and interrupted him. “Tarnish,” she said. “I thought it was just tarnish. I could polish, and there would be value and glamour. Mark, does your family actually have a fortune?”

Mark kept running his fingers across the seam of his pocket, as he listened. Why hadn’t he been honest, she asked. She saw through the gilding – the fading brick, the peeling paint.

“This isn’t going to work.” This was the last phrase Mark heard, and the coda to the relationship.

V. Alden was at the end of the driveway painstakingly fixing a burst sprinkler head, and noticed Marie walking with determination from the house down the long driveway. The lizards scurried across as if to carry some important gossip, the moss in the oak trees swayed as if waving goodbye, and the ferns bowed their heads in the breeze.

“Everything alright?” Alden called out.

“Just fine,” Marie replied. “Just getting a ride to town. Mark’s not feeling like going out today.”

The gardener watched Marie inch closer and closer to the lane of the road in impatience, ready to jump into her ride as soon as it arrived.

A loud engine noise erupted from the distance. Before the sound was completely registered, a car came dangerously swerving down the road.

Alden leaped forward and pushed Marie back into the driveway. Seconds before the impact, thoughts rushed through his brain. I can stop this. For Mark.

VI. Numb, Mark walked out onto the back porch. He carelessly plucked the rose from the rosebush. One by one, he plucked the petals off and threw them to the ground.