The Enchanted Greenhouse(11)

“Hello?” she called, more out of politeness than any belief the gardener would answer.

She walked through and wondered: What was this place? Where did all these plants come from? And the flower bird, the dancing dragonflies, and the color-changing butterflies? Why were these extraordinary greenhouses here? Leaning over, Terlu inhaled the scent of a cluster of purple flowers on a bush. Lilac? She’d never seen a lilac with such large blooms, but it smelled like lilac, heady and sweet.

“Rrr-eow.”

The cat flew past her, his feathers brushing her cheek.

“Oh? Do you know where he went?” Terlu asked.

Whether he did or not, following the winged cat seemed like a much better idea than wandering aimlessly, hoping to stumble across a man who’d made it very clear he was done talking with her. She kept the cat in sight as she wound through the glorious flower beds.

She noticed there were no weeds in any of the beds, despite the riot of colorful growth. The ones with lilies had only lilies, and the lilac bushes were rooted in weed-free soil. A wheelbarrow by the side of the path was piled high with plant debris. These were clearly not abandoned greenhouses, as she’d first thought. A butterfly landed on a lily and closed its wings. Colors shimmered over it in waves, red to purple, chased by blue then green, green then gold. There could be more than one gardener. She’d already walked through more enormous greenhouses in this complex than could possibly be cared for by a single person, and there seemed to be no end in sight. She liked the idea of finding a different, friendlier gardener.

Walking faster, Terlu followed the winged cat to another door and opened it—to be greeted with a whoosh of winter wind and a swirl of snow. She shut the door. “Not that way.”

Landing on the ground, the cat pawed at the door. “Rrr-eow.”

“You don’t want to go outside. It’s cold.”

There wasn’t anything out there but snow and trees … was there? The gardener had said his cottage was outside the greenhouse, nearby. Could that be what the cat wanted? Or did he just want to chase birds?

The cat rubbed against her ankles and then headbutted the door. Terlu noticed there was a hook near the door with a heavy beige coat hanging on it, as well as a thick red scarf.

“What’s outside?” Terlu asked the cat.

He meowed again.

She took the coat off the hook and wrapped herself in it, then added the scarf for good measure. It was soft wool, and it smelled faintly of pine and cloves and nutmeg. The far-too-large coat swallowed her, which she didn’t mind since it would keep her warm. “All right, but if you just want to chase sparrows, then I’m coming right back in.”

Ready this time, she opened the door and stepped out into the snow. It had piled up as high as her ankles and drifted even higher against the side of the greenhouse, and it was still falling, now in fat flakes that clumped together, dotting the sleeves of the coat and the ends of the scarf. Flapping his wings, the cat flew out of the greenhouse toward the forest.

“Wait for me,” she told him.

Testing the handle to make sure the door wouldn’t lock behind her, Terlu closed it and then waded into the snow. After all the flowers, the wintery air tasted like fresh mint, clean and sharp on her tongue.

Ahead were the pine trees, their branches painted with snow, and between them—was that a cottage? It was! With the winged cat flying beside her, she headed for it. She saw a curl of smoke rising up from the chimney and smelled woodsmoke, tangy in the air. Snow coated the cottage’s roof, and icicles had dripped down in front of the windows. It looked like it was laced with sugar.

Closer, she saw it had gray shingles, green shutters, and a green door, the same colors as the winged cat. Snow-filled window boxes were in front of the two windows on either side of the door, and the walkway had been cleared at some point—the snow was half the depth as elsewhere. Someone must have swept it aside before the latest batch of snow. The gardener? Was this his cottage? He’d said it was just outside the greenhouse, but how could she be certain she’d chosen the correct door to exit the vast structure? Surely there were other inhabitants in other cottages on the island as well.

Well, I did say I wanted to find a different gardener.

The cat glided to the front door and landed on the stoop. He pawed at the door, and Terlu joined him, knocking with her chilled fist. She shoved her hands back into the coat pockets as soon as she’d knocked, waiting for whoever lived in the cottage to answer the door.

When no one came, she knocked again and then peered through the window. She could only see a bit of inside, given the position of a cabinet, but she saw the corner of a wood table and a fireplace beyond it. Within the hearth, amber flames danced merrily.

He had said she could rest in his cottage, so she wouldn’t really be breaking and entering if she went inside, right? Unless, again, it wasn’t his cottage.

Terlu tried the doorknob, and it twisted easily. Pushing the door open a few inches, she called out, “Hello? Anyone home? May I come in, please?”

Propelling himself with his wings, the cat darted past her ankles inside the cracked-open door. She supposed this must be where her new furry friend lived. Not a stray. She was a little disappointed. She’d started to, privately of course, think of the gray-furred, green-winged cat as her cat.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her. Inside, it was toasty warm. And tiny. And perfect. Dripping snow on the front mat, she looked around and loved every inch of it. Beneath a window on her right was a bed piled invitingly high with pillows and blankets. A narrow desk with neatly stacked papers and envelopes sat beside it. On her left was the kitchen with a sink and cabinets, all very neat and clean with plates and bowls stacked beside cups. Opposite the front door was the fireplace, with a hefty cushioned chair that looked perfect for curling up with a book, and in the center of the room was a table with a bouquet of lilacs in a pitcher. A little wooden door near the sink most likely led to the washroom. Dried herbs and flowers hung from the rafters, and it all smelled like—