Mickey raised a hand and knocked three times on the large door. After a while, it opened to reveal a tall dog with gray hair and wearing a black tuxedo.

"May I help you?" he asked in a clipped tone. Mickey felt a flutter of nerves but pushed it back and drew himself up a little taller.

"My name is Michael Mouse."

A look of recognition passed the man's face.

"Ah, yes, the new fellow, right on time. Prompt, that's good. Come with me… I'll show you what to do."

Mickey followed the man into the mansion, trotting to keep up with his long strides. He glanced around as they moved through the foyer. It was obviously fine, but Mickey was surprised to see few symbols of wealth in the room. The look of simplicity persisted throughout the sitting room, and Mickey couldn't stop himself from commenting.

"Nice place."

The man spook in a cool tone without looking back at him.

"Mr. Mouse does not make a habit of flaunting his wealth."

Mickey bit his tongue, wondering if he should have kept quiet. After a few moments, he spoke again.

"So, uh… what's your name?"

"Duckworth," the man replied. Mickey forced back the urge to chuckle.

"Nice to meet ya."

Duckworth hummed in reply, and Mickey followed him without speaking. Soon they reached another door, and Duckworth opened it to reveal a large, airy garden. Mickey looked around as they walked out. The garden was full of flowers of dozens of colors and all kinds of plants, with fountains placed in various areas, and wrapped around the back of the house for several acres.

"Now," Duckworth said. "You need to report here at this time in the morning. You will need to check the plants for any sign of insect activity or rot, and they will need to be watered."

He gestured for Mickey to keep following him, then walked toward the side of the house. Tucked into a corner, there was a small bed of red and pink tulips.

"These you need to leave alone."

Mickey blinked in confusion, but Duckworth turned and headed back the way they came. The mouse followed him to a small shed, where he opened the door and gestured for Mickey to enter.

"Here you'll find all the tools you need."

Mickey glanced around, taking in all the gardening tools hung on pegs and placed neatly on shelves.

"The fountains will need to be maintained as well," Duckworth continued. He led Mickey to some pipes in the back of the shed and turned the spigots counter-clockwise. "Turn them this way to turn them off, and the cleaning supplies are over there."

He turned to face Mickey, his face impassive but not unfriendly.

"Do you have any questions?"

After looking around again, Mickey shook his head.

"No, sir, I don't think so."

"Very well, then I'll leave you to it."

Turning on his heel, Duckworth strode back toward the house. Mickey watched him for a moment, then turned to look at the tools. What to do first? After a moment, he lifted a pair of clippers off the wall. Whistling, he headed back out. He had a lot of work to do, and if he wanted to make a good impression, he would have to do his best work.

Minnie hummed as she lifted her mother's necklace in her hands, then traced it with her finger. A sad smile crossed her face; she had been very young when her mother died, but what few memories she had of her were happy. She always wished she could have known her better, but she knew a lot about her from the stories her father told.

All of a sudden, a knock sounded on her door. Blinking in surprise, Minnie carefully placed the necklace back in its box and turned.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Clarabelle poked her head in. Minnie saw the uneasy look on her face and groaned in her mind, guessing what this was about.

"'Scuse me, Minnie, but Mr. Rodawn is here."

Letting out an irritated huff, Minnie rubbed her forehead.

"Should I just tell him you're not available?"

Minnie pushed herself up from her seat before the vanity and stormed to the door.

"No, I'm going to make it perfectly clear that I'm not at all interested in him!"

Clarabelle couldn't resist smirking as she followed behind Minnie. She strode down the stairs and through the sitting room, then crossed the foyer and yanked open the door. Mortimer lounged outside, wearing an obviously expensive suit and with a leering grin on his face.

"Ha cha cha, hello there, beautiful. Finally decided to make the best decision of your life?"

Minnie glared up at him, putting every ounce of her contempt into it.

"I've decided to make it perfectly clear what my opinion of you is."

Mortimer smirked, clearly not interpreting her look. Minnie clenched her fists.

"You are the most self-absorbed, arrogant, egotistical chauvinist I have ever met. I have absolutely no interest in you and rue the day I ever met you. I never have, and never will want to be around you for even a minute. Now get off our porch, and if you ever come knocking on this door again, I will call the police and report you for trespassing. Goodbye!"

With that, she slammed the door in his face. When she turned, Clarabelle, who was standing near the door, burst out laughing.

"Ooh, that was the best! You really showed him!"

Minnie huffed, crossing her arms.

"If he doesn't have the sense to figure it out after this, I swear I'm doing to deck him."

Clarabelle laughed again.

"You'll have to get in line!"

Minnie couldn't stop herself from laughing too.

"Thanks, Clarabelle."

She headed back through the house, still fuming at Mortimer's behavior. Opening the back door, she took a deep breath and smiled at the scent of flowers. Then the sound of cheerful whistling reached her ears. She looked around, then saw Mickey trimming a bush nearby. Smiling, she headed over to him. His ears twitched and he looked up, then gave her a grin.

"Hey, Minnie."

"Hi," Minnie replied. "So, first day?"

Mickey glanced around and nodded.

"Yep. Got a lot to do, but that's a good thing."

Minnie smiled.

"So they say. I'm just happy we could help."

Mickey gave her a grin in return, then went back to his work. Minnie headed toward the small bed of tulips. With a small smile, she reached down and stroked the petals of one.

"Are those yours?"

She blinked and looked up to see Mickey watching with a curious expression.

"Well… not exactly," she said, then glanced at the flowers. "They were my mother's."

Mickey's face immediately fell.

"Oh, gosh… I-I'm real sorry, I didn't…"

"Oh, no, it's all right." Another smile tugged at Minnie's face, this one slightly sad. "She planted these flowers the day after I was born. When I was a little girl, we would take care of them together."

"And you do it yourself now?" Mickey asked.

"Yes," Minnie replied. "It's how I remember her."

After a few moments, Mickey's quiet voice came.

"I'm real sorry. For what it's worth, I know how ya feel."

Minnie looked up at him, surprised.

"Really?"

Mickey sighed and nodded.

"I'm not even sure how old I was when my folks died. Been on my own as long as I can remember."

A lump of sympathy rose in Minnie's throat.

"I'm sorry."

Mickey shrugged, a half smile crossing his face.

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'd better get back to work."

Minnie nodded and watched him for a while as he worked, whistling. Then she went back to her own task, a smile on her face.