An eight-day postal conference was to be held in Boulder in early September. It was the tedious annual meeting that no one wanted to attend. The Denver Post Master had to draft employees to go. This year Oliver volunteered for duty. Sure it was the kind of thing that this tried and true postal devotee might actually enjoy, but the timing seemed inconvenient to say the least. It felt more like an excuse to get away. At least Shane took it that way.
Shane invited Oliver to dinner at her house the Sunday night before he was to leave for Boulder on Monday. She prepared herb roasted chicken, new potatoes, and haricot vert. She even made a tart filled with homemade lemon curd for dessert. She hoped in the privacy of her home, sitting at the same table where they had shared several of her letters, that they may recapture the magic of that night.
"To wear or not to wear, that is the question. Oh dear, I do sound like Oliver. That's too dressy, that's too casual, and that's just well - old. Ah, here it is. I'm going to wear the orange dress," Shane said. "By the look on Oliver's face when he saw me, he liked what he saw – until Steve came out of nowhere. Oh Steve, always showing up at the wrong time. No Steve tonight. Just Oliver and I and a good lemon curd."
As punctual as ever, at 5:00 sharp the doorbell rang.
"Good evening, Oliver," said Shane.
"Good evening, I brought you these," said Oliver, pushing the bouquet toward Shane and himself away from her.
"Thank you. They are extraordinary. I'll just put them in a vase," said Shane.
The bouquet of late summer flowers was large and stunning, even extravagant. Asters, dahlias, gloriosa daisies, and Abraham Darby roses – lots of roses - mixed with prefect wisps of greenery were tied with yellow ribbon. Any other time such a bouquet was delivered the recipient would have thought that they were an extraordinary declaration of devotion. The only problem was Shane wasn't certain if they were a gift or a shield.
"Uhm, no stars, I guess they aren't from Blooms and Hugs. This is odd. He brought flowers - incredibly beautiful, expensive, some hard to get from the florist - flowers - but he didn't even look at me. I think I could have answered the door naked and he wouldn't have noticed," Shane thought.
"Dinner is almost ready. Would you like a glass of wine?" Shane asked.
"That would be fine," said Oliver rather flatly.
"Would that really be fine? Did he care? Maybe I should just hand him a Yoo-Hoo and a glass," she thought.
Something was wrong with Oliver and Shane McInerny was clueless as to the cause. One minute he seemed as if he couldn't wait to see her, then when they were together his attention went elsewhere. One minute he couldn't wait to dance with her, and then once they started to dance he developed two left feet.
Over dinner they made small talk about the unusually warm weather, the upcoming conference, and work that awaited them at the DLO in Oliver's absence.
"Thank you again for the flowers. It is a breathtaking selection," said Shane.
For the first time all evening, he looked across the table directly into her eyes.
"I wanted to …..to tell….to get you something before.…I…left for…Boulder," he said, his voice trailing off.
Once again Oliver choose to look at his plate rather than his dinner partner.
"I'll call the DLO and give you my room number once I get settled," he continued.
"We need to get you a cell phone," said Shane.
The minute these words left her mouth she regretted it. He looked as if she had said that he should carry a gun or get a full body tattoo.
"I just meant that it would be convenient if you needed to reach us while in conference or if we had an issue at the office," Shane said.
"Yes, of course. Well maybe when I return," said Oliver.
With that statement, silence fell.
"How are the clams?" Shane finally mumbled.
"Pardon?" Oliver replied.
"You aren't eating your dinner. You seem…preoccupied. Is everything all right?" she asked.
"Yes, I just have an early morning and I haven't packed. I should not tarry this evening," said Oliver.
"Well don't let me keep you," Shane said curtly.
"Yes, well if you don't mind," Oliver said.
He folded his napkin and began to stand.
"Not At All, I don't mind one bit," she replied.
He didn't acknowledge or seem to mind that she was curt. It was as if it did not register. They both stood. She followed him to the door. He cautiously kissed her on the forehead, still not looking her in the eyes, and said that he would be in touch.
Out the door he went.