I was kneeling in the east garden, hands buried in the soil, when Margaret from the kitchen staff came rushing over, clearly shaken. She told me Mr. Stuart was returning and taking over everything. I simply nodded and kept planting. Ever since Jared passed, I’d been bracing myself for this moment.

I had worked this land for decades—through every season, every bloom and fall—and it felt like home. Jared had been more than a boss to me; he was my friend. We’d spent countless hours in the garden behind the main house, sharing stories and moments of silence, surrounded by roses and weeds. Now his son, Stuart, was coming back to take over. Margaret asked what would happen to us, and all I could say was, “We do our jobs. That’s all we can do.” But deep down, I felt a heavy ache.

The estate wasn’t just a place of work; it was the rhythm of my life. Then Eli, my 14-year-old grandson, called out to me, asking if he could help. Since losing his parents in an accident two years ago, he had become my entire world. His curiosity and kindness gave my days meaning. I handed him some bulbs and we worked side by side until we heard a car pull up. A sleek luxury car arrived, and out stepped Stuart, looking smug with sunglasses and a familiar air of arrogance. Eli asked if that was him, and I nodded. I reminded Eli to be respectful, to keep his distance, and to never let anyone make him feel small. He repeated the words back to me like a promise.

Life under Stuart’s control quickly turned grim. He scrutinized everything and fired people over minor mistakes. Unlike Jared, who was kind and fair, Stuart was harsh and petty. One day he came to me, pretending we had never met, and criticized the hedges and roses. “My father tolerated mediocrity. I won’t,” he snapped. I told him I’d take care of it, forcing the words through clenched teeth. I couldn’t afford to lose my job—not with Eli depending on me. But Stuart didn’t stop there. He and his friends partied loudly, damaged the gardens with reckless driving, and treated the estate like a playground.

Then one morning, he stormed over, accusing Eli of scratching his car. I calmly told him Eli was away at a school program, but Stuart, seething, fired me on the spot. “You’re done here. I want you gone by sunset.” I didn’t argue. I just felt an odd sense of peace. Maybe it was time. I changed out of my uniform and went to the one place I hadn’t touched since Jared died—the garden behind the house. It felt right to say goodbye. As I cleared away the weeds, I noticed a patch of disturbed soil that didn’t look familiar. Digging gently, my fingers hit something solid. I unearthed a small wooden chest, sealed shut. Inside were neat stacks of cash, small gold bars, and a handwritten note from Jared. “This is for you, friend. I know you need it. I love you.—Your friend, Jared.” Tears welled up in my eyes. Even from beyond the grave, Jared had found a way to take care of me. I didn’t say a word to Stuart. I left the estate quietly that evening. The next day, I put everything in a safe deposit box under Eli’s name. It wasn’t for me—it was for his future. I took a modest job at the local high school tending to the grounds. It didn’t pay much, but it was honest work and kept me close to Eli. Time went on, and Eli thrived. He studied hard, earned scholarships, and made me proud every single day. One evening, he came home excited—he’d been accepted into a summer science program. “Do you think Mr. Jared would be proud too?” he asked. I smiled and said, “I know he would.” Later, I heard from Margaret that Stuart had lost everything—his reckless ways finally caught up to him. When she told me, I just said, “That’s a shame.” She was surprised I wasn’t bitter, but bitterness weighs you down, and I couldn’t afford that burden—not with Eli watching me. A few weeks later, Eli asked what was in the box I’d found in the garden. I looked at him—older now, wiser—and said, “When you’re ready. When the time’s right.” He asked when that would be, and I told him, “When you’ve built something so strong, it won’t change who you are.” We walked on together, silent but steady. I thought of Jared, the garden, and how sometimes the seeds we plant don’t just grow in soil—they grow in hearts.