Oliver called a cab for himself and Shane. Shane had her luggage and an unnecessary coat as June was upon them. As much as he didn't want to be separated from her, he realized that in walking all night he had forsaken his morning ablutions and should shower and change. Oliver had the driver wait for him while he helped Shane with her luggage. He placed the luggage inside the door of her house and promised a quick return.

As the driver pulled away, Shane walked back outside. The memory of the interrupted date poured over her. She could hear Oliver saying "I will handle things." And he had handled things beautifully and faithfully. The porch swing didn't squeak. The rose bush had been pruned. Frankly, the yard never looked better.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. The house must be another story – no dusting, no vacuuming in three months. But when she went inside – it was spotless. Had he cleaned the house too?

"Oh no, no, no, no, no."

In her haste to pack she left clothes from her date lying on the bed.

"What did I leave out?" she asked herself as she ran to her bedroom.

Instead of finding a mess, her dress was hanging on the back of her closet door and her personal items - silk stockings and all - were neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

"OLIVER O'TOOLE," she said in disbelief.

Now she felt embarrassed. It is one thing to buy a new dress and everything that goes under it for a date; it's something else for him to have that knowledge. That wasn't her intention.

An hour passed before Oliver returned. In the meantime, Shane changed clothes -four times. First she pulled a fitted orange dress that she had bought especially for their trip to D.C. and the Miss Special Delivery pageant.

"No, that wont' do. Steve's 'hello, beautiful' sort of ruined that dress," she said to herself.

"Maybe one day," she thought. "Oh, I know."

She began to pummel dresses until she reached the back of her closet and found it. It was a simple, sleeveless, black print that she happened to be wearing when they were locked in a bank vault. She pulled her hair back, slipped on a pair of flats and went outside to wait for Oliver.

Waiting for him on the porch swing, she started to hum "When It's Springtime in The Rockies." Realizing what she was doing, she laughed at herself. She just couldn't stop smiling. The sky was a perfect springtime blue, and the trees were a shade of green one only sees just before summer. But most importantly, she was home and Oliver was on his way.

Oliver stepped out of his car. He looked so handsome in his dark slacks, white button down, and thin, taupe pullover sweater. His eyes lit at the sight of her. Just as he had taken the porch steps two at time for the first date, he took them two at time this afternoon. The bounce had returned to his steps.

"I thought you might be hungry so I picked up some sandwiches for us. I hope that's all right."

"Well, I certainly don't have anything in my refrigerator – except two Yoo-Hoo's, but you know that."

Her statement hinted at embarrassment. He was puzzled. Did she regret telling him that?

"Yes, you mentioned it in the letter that you read," Oliver said.

"You didn't…see them?"

"No. Other than carrying in your luggage I've never been in your house. Did you think otherwise?"

"Then who? Rita, of course. Oh my," said Shane relieved.

"When you didn't return Rita started coming on Saturdays to check on things. I trust that is acceptable. I handled the yard, the swing, held your mail, kept H.R. from firing you," Oliver said casually.

Still a bit puzzled he continued.

"Ms. McInerney, you seemed perplexed about my having been in your house. Are you hiding something? Do you have boxes delivered by FedEx?" Oliver said, thoroughly enjoying teasing her.

"Mr. O'Toole, I would never have such contraband in my home." Shane responded with more laughter.

Then it hit her.

"Wait, firing me? Are you serious?"

"Mr. Marek never sent any paper work for your absence. I handled it."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"He did not exactly give you time to consider such."

"Thank you for handling things."

He took her hand in his.

The two were so lost in the moment of the perfect late spring day and of being together that they didn't notice either the car that had parked across the street or the man coming toward them.

"IT'S THE BEAUTIFUL SHANE!" he called, as his long gait quickly brought him across the street.

"Ramon?! What?" cried Shane.

Coming us the walk to her house was Ramon Rodriguez, arms filled with two large brown paper bags bearing the logo of The Mailbox Grille. The two stood to meet him.

"Ovileer, you look like a man who has found new life. You breathe again. You smile again. You dance again! No?"

"Yes, yes, I do. How did you know that the beautiful Shane had returned?" Oliver questioned, trying to hide his irritation at the latest interruption..

"The lovely Rita and my good friend Normando were eating brunch – we serve the best brunch in Denver now – you must come – he told me that you had returned. I thought, the beautiful Shane has returned, we kill the fatted calf. We no play poker tonight! NO! Tonight we dance! I prepare a feast. But alas, the lovely Rita said you do not come to the Grille today. I took the repast to your office. But you were not there. So I find your house, and bring the banquet to the beautiful Shane."

"How thoughtful and such an abundance of food," Shane said in amazement.

"I give this to Ovileer. I must go now. The restaurant business keeps me very busy. Enjoy. I see you soon."

Ramon deposited the two large bags into Oliver's arms and left as unexpectedly and quickly as he came.

"Thank you," Shane called as he drove away.

The two stood on the porch watching as the car pulled away.

"Shane," Oliver said.

"Yes, Oliver."

"Do you know anyone who could lock us in a bank vault?"

The two laughed.

"No, but we can go inside. I have a very clean house."