A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Writers love getting feedback about their work, and positive feedback just keeps us writing more! Now on to the story. Standard disclosure applies: they aren't mine (sadly), I am just borrowing them from the lovely and talented Martha Williamson.

June 19, 2014

7:00 AM

Shane woke up on Friday slightly disoriented. This wasn't her bed in DC. Looking around her luxurious hotel suite, the day before all came flooding back along with that awful truth: she had been transferred to Denver. She grabbed her toiletry bag and headed into the bathroom to shower. Once finished, she sat at the beautiful marble vanity and set up her makeup, hair dryer, straightener, brush, and perfume before getting ready for the day.

Hair and makeup done, she picked up her foldable garment bag, pulled out a black dress and a red blazer, selected a pair of black strappy heels and two long necklaces to wear alongside the inscribed disc and bead she had worn every day since her tenth birthday, and got dressed. She grabbed her purse, made sure her cell phone and wallet were tucked inside, and grabbed her tablet. Within a few taps on her screen she had the name of a coffee place that seemed as if it was about midway between the hotel and the post office. She tucked the device into her purse, grabbed her charger and her room key, and headed out the door.

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9:00 AM

The Denver Bean Coffee House was little more than a pushcart on a prominent corner in the business district downtown. Still, Shane noticed that it was busy, which was always a good sign when looking for one's regular coffee stop. They were also, she noted, pretty clever with size names, using the names of famous Colorado ski destinations – Aspen, Vail and Steamboat – to represent small, medium, and large respectively. Other pluses included tables where it looked like freelance technophiles worked out of the office, and what looked like a short walk to a park.

Shane got into the long line and, to pass the time, pulled out her cell phone to look up places to go and things to do in and around the Denver area. She also took a glance at the real estate listings in the area. She had initially intended only to rent as she had never been able to afford to purchase a house on her salary, but the prices she saw were so low compared to the DC area that she knew she would probably be able to afford at least a small house. The thought pleased her, since she missed the benefits of living in a house: the porch, the porch swing, roses planted in the yard, a garden in the backyard. She noticed a 3-bedroom, 2- bath home in the Cherry Hills area and decided she would go to their open house that afternoon.

"Next?" she heard. Glancing up, she saw that the barista was waiting on her.

"Sorry," she grinned sheepishly.

"It happens all the time," the kid responded amiably. "What can I get you?"

"Um, how about a Vail Skinny Vanilla Latte?" she requested.

He nodded and, within a minute her latte was placed in front of her. She handed the kid a five and told him to keep the change, collected her coffee, and headed in the direction of the Post Office. She wanted to time her morning commute so she would know the absolute latest time she could leave the hotel in the morning and still arrive at work on time.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she closed her eyes in bliss. They had mastered the right blend of sweetness with the correct ratio of espresso to milk, and the aeration in the milk produced a lovely buttery texture with just the right amount of foam on top. She had found her daily coffee place, and she had done so at the first place she had tried. For the first time since she had found out about this infernal transfer 36 hours ago, Shane began to feel as if she might actually like it in Denver.

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2:00 PM

Oliver O'Toole was having a terrible day. He had taken possession of a packet of letters. They were clearly dead letters, which fell to his department to deal with, but since they were intended for Cody, Wyoming, his superior, Andrea – actually, he wouldn't really call her his superior in any sense of the word – had deemed that they be sent to the Cheyenne office. He had taken the packet back, informing her that the Cheyenne branch did not have a Dead Letter Office to send the letters to and, as such, they were to be dealt with by his department. She had huffed, spun around on her heel, and stalked off. His victory was short lived, however, as their little head-to-head had put her into a particularly foul mood and she had stalked his department the entire rest of the day.

Later, he had found out that, starting the following week, all salaried employees would be required to do overtime until further notice. This meant that, for the foreseeable future, he, Norman and Rita (and Andrea, he groaned inwardly) would be working six days a week, Monday through Saturday, until their staffing levels were back up to where they needed to be.

Now, Rita and Norman had collided over…something…in the DLO, which had resulted in two bins of dead letters being strewn all over the floor of the office. Unfortunately, Andrea had chosen that moment to barge into the DLO, still complaining of that packet of letters to Cody. Once she saw the mess Rita and Norman were scurrying to pick up and sort back into their bins, she lost it again.

"Oliver, your department is the most disorganized, sloppy, useless office in the entire United States Postal System!" she screeched, waving her metal clipboard around. "Look at this place! It's a complete disaster area!"

"Andrea, I can assure you, this is not how we operate-" He was cut off by her sarcastic laugh.

"You can assure me of nothing, Oliver. Save your breath. If I had my way, this whole office would be shut down and you would all be packed up to sell stamps in Pueblo and North Glen. You would at least then be of some use to the Post Office then!"

"That was extremely poor grammar, Andrea," Oliver replied smoothly. "The Dead Letter Office is not useless, either. We get letters and packages to their intended recipients when your sorting floor cannot hope to do so."

She huffed angrily, then spied his coffee maker out of the corner of her eye. "You will regret that, O'Toole," she muttered.

"One must never regret telling the truth, Andrea," he responded evenly. "Now, may my colleagues and I get back to work?"

"Not so fast, pal," she retorted. "A kitchen electronic device with a heating element is in direct violation of the office fire code. I'm going to have to confiscate this." She unplugged the Mr. Coffee and stormed out of the DLO, grinning smugly to herself.

Oliver stood, staring at the batwing door she had just gone through. "Oh, dear," he mumbled. "Norman, Rita," he announced, turning toward his employees, "Since we are to be working mandatory overtime beginning next week, why don't the three of us take the rest of the day off? Today has been rather…challenging, to say the least, and I believe we could all use the rest."

"Leave early?" Norman inquired. "But what about Andrea?"

"I have a government service pay grade higher than she does, Norman," Oliver reminded the younger man. "She can complain all she wishes but nothing she says will have any bearing on this department while I am the section leader here. Go home, you two. Have a good weekend, and we will see each other again on Monday morning."

"Good night, Oliver," Norman and Rita responded in unison before gathering their things and heading out the batwing doors.

Oliver unrolled his shirt sleeves, refastened his cuffs, slipped into his suit jacket, folded his trench coat over his arm, grabbed his hat and his satchel and made his way out to his Jaguar.

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4:00 PM

Shane entered the front door of the 1800-square-foot home in Cherry Hills. It was reasonably priced for its size and specifications, and the outside was cute, with the porch she wanted and a space to plant roses later. She toured the house, noting the open concept layout. There was a small mud area in the entrance that would come in handy during the rainy and snowy seasons, a large island in the kitchen area suitable for prepping her meals (she would never admit this to anyone, but she actually enjoyed cooking, and especially baking) that flowed into the living room and dining room, and a back patio that opened to an outdoor oasis, complete with a fire pit, a large seating area, and a carefully-cultivated garden that contained both culinary and floral specimens.

At the top of the stairs was a full bath, two good sized bedrooms that looked out onto the street below, and a large, well-lit master suite at the rear of the house, complete with a four-piece bathroom and a balcony looking over the backyard with a spectacular view of the mountains between the trees.

Smiling to herself, she descended the stairs and met the real estate agent, Wade, in the kitchen.

"Well, what did you think?" he asked pleasantly, standing up to greet her as she walked into the room.

"It's such a beautiful home, with nearly every one of my wish list items on it," Shane replied honestly. "I think I would like to make an offer, but I would like to think about it for a day or so."

"Of course," Wade replied. "Just keep in mind that, at this price, this home will not last."

"May I take one of these?" Shane asked, indicating the flyers that were stacked on the kitchen island.

He laughed. "You may." He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a business card. "That is my cell phone number," he told her. "Please give me a call if you do decide to offer for the house. Have a lovely evening."

"You too," she smiled, turning the front door knob.

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11:00 PM

Shane was back in her hotel room, sipping a glass of wine as she sat on the sofa in her silk nightgown and robe. She had returned to the hotel after the open house in Cherry Hills and spent the remainder of the afternoon unpacking her bags and getting herself settled for her stay. She had spent dinner in one of the hotel's restaurants, The Ship's Tavern, and enjoyed a salad and a Caprese Chicken sandwich with a glass of chardonnay.

She had then come back to her room and called her personal banker in DC. The money her dad had left her when he died last year had left her financially able to purchase a home – here in Denver. In DC, it had really only enabled her the ability to go out with friends whenever she chose without worry about how she would pay bills from one paycheck to the next.

Now, as she sipped her wine, she considered the real estate agent's card and made a decision. She picked up her cell phone, dialed the number on the card, and waited.

"Wade Dorman," came the response after the third ring.

"Mr. Dorman, it's Shane McInerney, from the open house this afternoon," she stated.

There was a brief pause before he acknowledged her words. "Oh, right," he conceded. "The one in Cherry Hills. You work for the Post Office or something, right?"

She smiled sardonically. "That's right."

"I think I have a cousin that works there, too. What can I do for you?"

"I would like to make an offer on the house. Full cash offer, if the homeowners agree."

"I will get the message to them tonight and call you back when I have an answer from them. Probably sometime tomorrow," he responded.

"Thank you. Good night." She hung up the phone, turned out the light, and went to bed. It had been a long day.

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A/N: Well, there it is. Please, let me know what you thought, and what you might like to see in the upcoming chapters. Thanks!