Craven Manor(2)

The voice came from the living room and blended in with the explosions and automatic machine fire of Kyle’s video game.

Daniel bent to pick up the envelope. “Yeah, it’s me. I wasn’t expecting you to be home.”

“Boss left early. So I figured I might as well, too.” An explosion, then a disappointed mechanical chime signalled that Kyle had lost the match. He swore loudly.

The letter was thick card stock, not the usual flimsy paper the bills came in. It didn’t have an address, but Daniel’s name had been written on the front in a flowing script. He turned the envelope over. No return address.

The console game played a jingle as a new round began. Daniel shut the door behind himself then drifted into the tiny kitchen as he stared at the letter. Plates and pots sticky with the residue of some rice-based meal filled the sink. Daniel turned on the taps to try to soften the glue-like substance then lifted the envelope’s unsealed flap.

He never received mail—and especially not unaddressed, hand-written notes with thick card stock. His first, panicked thought was that it might be an eviction notice, but that made no sense. The apartment was in Kyle’s name. Besides, their landlord wouldn’t splurge on such decadent paper. He pulled the sheet out and unfolded it.

The letter was short but written in a neat curling script. The lines were all impeccably straight and the words small, seemingly dwarfed by the white space around them. Daniel read it twice before the message sank in.



Mr. Daniel Kane,

I would like to offer you the job of groundskeeper for Craven Manor, starting immediately.

Follow Tilbrook Street until it forks at the dead oak. Turn right and travel on for two miles to reach the property.

I look forward to your direct response.

Bran



Daniel turned the paper over. The reverse was blank. Is this a joke? If it is, I don’t get it. He’d been desperately waiting for a job offer for months, but the letter was so bizarre that he was having trouble imagining it was serious. Who gives directions to a property, rather than an address? And why hire me as a groundskeeper, of all things? It’s not like I have any experience.

That wasn’t completely true. He’d loved to garden when he lived with his grandmother before her death. They would spend hours in her backyard on the weekends, weeding, pruning, and tending. The space had made him feel safe.

There were no plants around the apartment block. At one time, a tree had been planted in the sidewalk outside, but now only its stump remained. He could sometimes go a full day without seeing any green except for the algae in a drain or an occasional weed struggling out of a crack in the sidewalk. Being paid to work in a garden sounded like a dream.

But it’s not a real offer. It can’t be. Someone’s playing a prank.

The pots were overflowing, so he turned off the tap and moved into the living room. Kyle sat on the couch, seemingly unconcerned that he’d planted himself over the stained section, and bent forward as he stared, fixated, at the TV screen. His character ran through an abandoned warehouse, sniping any enemy infantry that popped up, and occasionally throwing grenades. Daniel cleared his throat, but Kyle didn’t respond, so he rested his aching back against the wall and waited for his cousin to finish.

It was hard to believe Kyle had played football in college. He’d been a popular guy back then, with bulging muscles and hair the same shade of bronze as Daniel’s. He hadn’t been good enough to make a career of it after school, though, and had eventually gotten a job with a construction crew. Daniel knew he worked hard, but a diet of soft drinks and greasy takeaway had ruined his figure. Fragments of chips dusted the black T-shirt that clung tightly around his midsection, and he’d started to develop fat on his cheeks and the back of his neck. He gnawed at his lower lip as he coaxed his avatar into mowing down another sniper. The game chimed to signal the end of the match. Kyle’s team was the victor, and he let out a whoop as he collapsed back.

“Hey,” Daniel said and held up the sheet of paper. “Did you leave me this?”

“What the hell is it?” Kyle squinted at the page but didn’t leave his couch to get a closer look. “Did you finally get a job?”

“No—I mean, I—”

“Because I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. We’re going to have to bring in a third roommate.” Kyle scratched at his stubble and threw the game controller aside. “I know you pitch in for rent, but utilities are going up next month, and what you give me just isn’t cutting it. I already talked to a friend from work. I think he’s game.”

“Oh.” Daniel felt the familiar sinking sensation in his stomach. He slipped an inch down the wall. “But we’ve only got two bedrooms—”

“Yeah, so he’d have to share with you. I can’t risk my sleep being interrupted, y’know? I need to get up early for work.”

Kyle rarely left the house before nine, but Daniel bit his tongue on that topic. “A second bed won’t fit in my room. There’s almost no space as it is.”

“Do you have a job? Can you pay me more?” Kyle jutted out his lower lip and lifted his eyebrows. “’Cause if not, we’ll both be out on the street.”

“I understand. If we need to get a third renter… well, we have to, don’t we?” Daniel rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and shrugged. “Could we switch rooms, maybe? Yours is big enough for two beds, and you’d still have privacy in mine.”