The Holland Press

Moon Stone. Episode One. Avocado Green.

“He’s on the way, Moon.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, Mrs. Stone. He’s still coming and will be there by noon. Is Gemma handy today?”

“Yes she’s here. We’ll be fine.”

The eighty-eight-year-old placed the avocado green receiver back on the wall, but held onto it for a moment. “The last land line in Carlton.” she whispered. “There’s a good title.”

“Gemma!”

“Yes, mum?” answered her assistant, a young exchange student from London.

“That winner is coming. I couldn’t dodge it, he’ll be here in an hour or so.”

“I’ll freshen up your study.”

“No, we can meet in the kitchen.”

Gemma scanned the crowded countertops of Luna Stone’s domain, estimating a two-day overhaul. “I’m not sure what I can do with this in an hour.”

“Don’t bother, it will have to get worse before it gets better. It doesn’t matter. He will paint it when he gets here.”

“Paint it?” Gemma was navigating the perfect storm of a stubborn elder, a dialect gap and the nuance of an eccentric writer. Luna allowed a rare smile. “He’ll color it as authentic in his mind.”

“Fresh coffee then, mum? Would you like to change clothes?”

“Yes and no.”

The young lady moved to empty the coffee pot as a black SUV pulled into the circle drive. “He may be here early,” she announced to her employer.

“Most likely my call came late.” Luna responded. Gemma had come to recognize the comfortable disappointment in her voice. “Make the coffee, then get the door.”

“It’s starting to rain.” said Gemma, as the SUV pulled away leaving a lean young man with shaggy brown hair and a backpack behind.

“He won’t melt.”

Gemma hurried her task with British efficiency then went to answer the front door. Luna loathed and appreciated her need to accommodate.

The old writer settled into her chair at the table, watching the rain fall harder through her back window.

Gemma returned to the kitchen, introducing the guest to Luna’s back.

“Come take a seat at the table, Benjamin.” she said without turning.

An eager freshman clumsily dropped his backpack beside the empty chair opposite hers, while turning to face her and hold out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Stone.” he said, as she slowly reached up for a grip.

“I’ll be just in the next room, mum.” said Gemma, offered as both a comfort and a warning. “Coffee, Benjamin?” she offered. “No, I’m fine,” he said.