The Days of Mail and Roses

By Felicia Ferguson

Author's Note: Usual disclaimers in the first chapter titled, July. Enjoy!

December

For Oliver, Thanksgiving had passed in a slow tick of the clock. He'd read more of Shakespeare's sonnets, gone into the DLO on Friday despite not being required to do so, and then eaten dinner out at a local restaurant. As the calendar changed to December, he was gratified that there would be no further time off requests, at least for the month.

Several times over the last few weeks, he had considered stopping at Shane's desk or pausing her as they left for the evening and asking her to join him for dinner. But he'd restrained the impulses. December, and Christmas in particular, was a difficult month for her, despite last year's confession he had made it a good day. And he didn't want their first … dinner … to be associated with an unpleasant time.

So he had instead opted to find more opportunities for them to enjoy each other's company. The best and most pleasant would occur in two weeks at the postal ball where they were sure to dance again. Oliver sat at his desk and watched her as she typed into her computer. They hadn't danced since last Christmas Eve in the DLO, but that hadn't been anything other than a simple box step. And he wanted more.

Ramon's voice echoed in his head. You know, you were my best students … such a natural rhythm.

He couldn't deny Ramon's assessment of their partnering. Nor the enjoyment they both experienced when they danced together. Oliver's gaze strayed to his desk calendar. Soon, he would hear the smooth beat of the rumba with Shane in his arms. And unlike the last postal ball, he intended to savor every moment.

His brow furrowed. But given their dancing would be done with an audience of the entire Denver area postal community, limits on their interaction would have to remain in place. He grimaced at the restriction then, reminding himself it couldn't be helped, returned to his daily memos.

An update on the parking lot striping.

Overtime and holiday time off request reminders.

The Fifty-Eighth Dear Santa project.

As he studied the delivery dates and gift requests, making mental note of specific gifts he would like to purchase, something pricked at him. And an idea began to form. Yes, he usually conducted gift deliveries alone. But Shane regularly accompanied him in the delivery of dead letters. It would not be amiss for her to join in him in the delivery of presents, and they could enjoy each other's company without concern for speculative talk.

Oliver rose from his desk chair and clutched the Dear Santa memo. He scanned the DLO and found Rita and Norman ensconced in the back sorting through the latest bag of misdirects. Satisfied there would be sufficient privacy for his request, he joined Shane at her desk and held out the memo. Taking in a quick breath, he asked, "Ms. McInerney, in lieu of assisting in the wrapping of presents for this year's Dear Santa project, would you like to accompany me in the delivery of a few of the gifts?"

##

Shane sat behind her steampunk desk a bit stunned. Oliver had asked her to deliver Christmas presents with him. Last year, Rita had said delivering the Dear Santa gifts was Oliver's favorite thing to do. And this year, he was specifically asking for her company. As she fully absorbed his formal, but seemingly heartfelt request, delight and wonder eased through her.

Her heart melted. No, it still wasn't an evening out, but this invitation might almost be better. Unable to help herself, she reached over and placed her hand on his forearm. "I'd love that. Thank you, Oliver."

Boyish delight lit his eyes, and he bobbed his head in a brief nod. Movement in the back of the DLO caught her eye. Oliver must have seen it too, and he stepped back, smoothing his tie with a quick glance toward Rita and Norman as they made their way toward Incoming to finish sorting the misdirects into their boxes.

Oliver nodded to them as they passed by. "Well, then. I … ah … will let you know the dates and locations of the deliveries once they've been set."

Knowing the moment had been broken, but still savoring the lingering sensation of joy, Shane grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."

##

That evening, Shane pushed through the shed door and found the cutting where it had been for weeks. The weak light of dusk tried to pierce the shadowy surroundings but failed miserably. Bracing herself for the worst, she clicked on the overhead light. The bare sixty-watt exterior bulb hanging from the ceiling on a cord barely dinted the darker corners. But it was better than none.

Even in the dim light, she could see nothing had changed. The plant stem remained as it had been, leafless, but hopefully not lifeless. She reached down and held the stem lightly then gave it a slight push. It bent. Not much, but enough to show it was still alive. A relieved sigh slipped between her lips.

There was still hope.

She tapped a kiss to her fingers then patted the top of the stem.

Keep holding on, Shane.

##

Two weeks later, Shane sat in the passenger seat of Oliver's Jag as they were en route to Commerce City, north of Denver, to deliver their presents. Shane held their first gift on her lap while three others sat in the backseat.

She studied him as he drove and fought her amused smile. His childlike excitement couldn't be hidden behind his usual professionalism, try as he might. At least not to her. Her lips twitched until her grin finally escaped, and her words followed soon after it. "I bet you loved Christmas as a kid."

Oliver sniffed then his cheeks wrinkled in a fond smile. "Ah, yes. The entire O'Toole clan would gather at the family home here in Denver. I would see cousins from across the country, all much older than myself. But we all would play boardgames and roast marshmallows and then attend Christmas Eve service as a family."

He slowed as the light changed, then watched the cross traffic for a moment. "Christmas Day was reserved for opening presents and stockings, and then the adults would discuss whatever books they were currently reading while the cousins went outside to play touch football."

Shane's eyebrows crawled up her forehead until they might have met her hairline. Mirth laced her words. "You played touch football?"

Oliver shot her a darkly amused look then pulled at his shirt cuffs. "Ah no. I was too young and not interested. But while they were playing, I would join the adults in the living room and listen to their conversations. They would talk about books and ideas. Hearing their voices, their insights. It's where I believe my love of reading and learning was first planted and cultivated. And what of you, Ms. McInerney?"

Shane sighed and traced the outline of the package in her lap. "As you know, Christmas wasn't my favorite holiday after my father left."

Oliver nodded as he eased the car back up to speed. He shot a tentative look her way, then quietly asked, "Do you have a favorite Christmas present from your childhood?"

Shane reached beneath her scarf and found her pendant. "Yes, it's actually my necklace."

She fingered the small gold disc and the amethyst stone as memories of that Christmas Day replayed in her mind. "Mom and Dad gave it to me the Christmas before he left. Purple was my favorite color and when the bead met the engraved leaves of the plant, it looked just like some of the flowers Mom had in our back garden." She fell silent, then whispered, "I thought there couldn't be a more perfect Christmas."

Oliver's eyes met hers, their blue depths darkening with empathy and something else, something deeper, more lasting. Her heart leapt.

His gaze dropped to the package in her lap, breaking the connection. "Let's do our best to make this a perfect Christmas for our letter writers."

##

A few minutes later, Oliver pulled into an apartment complex. The stone and stucco one-story apartments looked to have been built in the nineteen-sixties, but were in good repair. A group of kids played tag in the common area their coats and hats tossed to one side of the grassy area.

Shane scanned her phone's screen, then said, "It's apartment eleven-oh-two." She searched the buildings then suddenly pointed. "There's an eleven-hundred on that building. That must be it."

Oliver nodded then found a vacant parking spot, and they climbed out.

Curiosity lit Shane's eyes as they made their way to apartment number two. "So, is delivering a Dear Santa gift different from our usual deliveries?"

Oliver nodded, gesturing for her to proceed him up the sidewalk. "Yes, and no. We still confirm the child wrote the letter. But then we state the gift is from Santa Claus and let the child know that we are often enlisted as his helpers due to the busyness of the season. After that, we present the gift and proceed on with our day."

Shane's brow flickered, and her eyes dimmed. "So they don't open it right then and there?"

He shook his head. "Not in my experience. After all, it isn't Christmas Day. Or even Christmas Eve."

Shane's lips curved in an amused smile, and Oliver was certain she was inwardly chuckling at his preference for order and decorum. His lips twitched, but he said nothing, instead opting to ring the doorbell.

An older woman opened the door. Her dark hair laced with silver was tucked behind her ears, and her smile was friendly, but cautious. "May I help you?"

Oliver rose on his toes. "Ah, we are with the United States Postal Service, and we have a very special delivery for a Jorge Rodriguez."

Her eyes lit up and a brilliant smile covered her lips. "I'm his mother, Marta. I'll just call him over." She turned and waved to someone further inside the house. "Jorge? Will you come to the door? I want you to meet some people."

A lanky pre-teen, with long stringy dark hair ambled over then stood half behind his mother, his gaze shifting between Oliver, Shane, and the floor. His mother pulled him in front of her. "Jorge, you know how you like to go to the mailbox every day?"

At his vigorous nod, she said, "Well, these are Mamì's friends from the Post Office. They have something just for you." She paused then shot Shane and Oliver a meaningful glance.

Shane's lips parted in an easy smile as she stepped forward. "Jorge, did you write a letter to Santa this year?"

Jorge's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. He turned and pointed to his mother then to his mouth.

Oliver's brow wrinkled as he glanced between the two of them.

Marta smiled and squeezed Jorge's shoulders. "My son is a gifted artist and understands everything people say, but his autism kept him from speaking. We use an iPad. Do you want me to get it, sweetie?"

Jorge shook his head then pointed to the package in Oliver's hands.

Oliver lifted it up between them with an easy smile and a quick nod. "Yes, Jorge. Sometimes Santa is too busy to deliver every gift, so he asks the United States Postal Service to help him. Your package comes direct from the North Pole."

A wide, delighted smile spread across Jorge's lips as he took the present and cast a questioning look to Marta. She slipped her hand through his hair, finger combing it off his face then the nodded. "Go ahead. It's close enough to Christmas, and then you can thank Santa's helpers properly."

Jorge promptly tore into the package then burst into tears as he pulled out the professional set of drawing and sketching tools.

Oliver glanced to Shane, who began to tear up herself, then they both looked to Marta. She shook her head and grinned. "He's been so excited at the thought of Santa answering his wish. From the first time he saw an architecture coffee table book at a friend's house, all he's ever dreamed about is being the next Frank Lloyd Wright."

Jorge clutched the package to his chest with one arm, then patted Oliver's and Shane's cheeks, eyes gleaming with joy. Marta beamed. "He's saying thank you."

Jorge darted around her back into the living room and curled up in a swing egg chair, hugging the package to his chest.

Marta grinned at the sight then turned back. "You have made this a wonderful Christmas. Thank you so much."

Oliver and Shane traded a warm glance then nodded as they bid the family goodbye. They walked back to Oliver's car as Shane wiped her cheeks. "Now, that was an incredible delivery, Oliver. Thank you for inviting me."

Oliver's lips twitched as he watched her over the roof of the car. "My pleasure …" Shane.

Her eyes glowed as a smile beamed from her lovely features, enhancing her natural radiance. Something in Oliver's heart shifted and warmth spilled into the vacated space. Yes, he was very much looking forward to dancing with her this evening at the postal ball.

##

Two hours later, they pushed through the DLO doors and found Norman glumly sitting behind his desk and Rita leaning against the credenza, worrying the fabric of her dress. Oliver glanced to Shane, who shrugged, then asked, "Rita, what's wrong?"

"Oh, the postal ball tonight … it was just cancelled."

Oliver's lips parted, and he clasped his hands behind his back. "Are you certain? There was no memo about a rescheduling, nor any mention in the morning meeting."

Norman joined them as he fidgeted his fingers then patted Rita's shoulder. "No, it's completely canceled this year. Apparently, the heating system in the ballroom wing of the Brown Palace went out this morning, and they can't get it fixed in time. It'll be too cold in there by this evening, and all of the ballrooms in the main building are booked with other parties."

"So, no ball at all?"

Shane's plaintive question cut at Oliver's heart. Perhaps she had been anticipating dancing with him as well? He considered placing a comforting hand on her shoulder or taking her hand, but he stifled the impulse. Instead, he rose on his toes and said, "That is certainly disappointing. But obviously out of anyone's control." He shot a quick look toward Shane. It was too last minute to arrange anything of substance. All other venues were most assuredly booked with their own festivities.

He would love to invite her to his home for dinner, but that would be too intimate for their current status. Swallowing his dismay, he nodded. "Well, then. Why don't we close up and have an early day?"

Norman took in a quick breath, then held up a finger to offer a suggestion. "Eleanor in Passports invited the Main Branch employees to her church's Christmas Eve service tomorrow night. It's obviously not the ball, but we could still go."

Shane's eyes widened just a bit, and her lips parted slightly. She cast a quick glance around the DLO as if searching for an excuse. Oliver winced. Christmas Eve service at his church might well be more than she was ready to undertake despite her exposure to his faith. "Ah, yes. That is a lovely idea, but perhaps we might have dinner together this evening."

Shane's shoulders eased with relief. "Yes, that's a great idea. The Mailbox Grille might even be open tonight since it was only closed because of the ball."

With a nod, Oliver said, "Excellent idea, Ms. McInerney. We should head there now before the rest of the Denver Main Branch chooses that option as well."

##

Christmas Eve, Shane donned her winter running gear, tucked her hair under her beanie and her ear buds in her ears, and headed off a long jog, hoping the run off the frustration that simmered in her heart.

Shane heaved an aggravated sigh as her irritation spiked. Despite her real reluctance to attend the service at Eleanor's church, she had actually been looking forward to Christmas this year—and not just the postal ball and the opportunity to party.

But then the ball was canceled. There was no dancing with Oliver. And no opportunity for them to have more time together. Shane turned the corner, heading toward Washington Park and the running trails. She nodded to a couple of other runners as she reached the entrance, but her thoughts and heart still bubbled.

When they'd parted after dinner at the Mailbox Grille, Shane had caught Oliver's gaze. Something had flashed across his eyes. It was less than his intense contemplative look, but something had definitely been on his mind. She'd hoped it would be an invitation to meet today. Even just for coffee and conversation.

She had wanted to tell him she'd been looking forward to dancing with him, how this year the calendar date had conjured none of the past hurts she'd previously felt, how he truly had impacted her view of Christmas for the better.

But there was no opportunity even for that. After wishing her and Norman and Rita a good night and a Merry Christmas, he had nodded once then turned and walked away.

Shane passed a decorated Christmas tree in the park, lighted packages ringing the base as if ready to be opened tomorrow morning. She had purchased Oliver a gift this year. It wasn't anything big, simply a book on word history she knew he'd enjoy. But how she had planned to give it to him, asking him to go back to the DLO with her after the ball, giving it to him there in the privacy of their favorite place, had been the most important part. There they could have danced in private. Maybe even shared their first kiss.

Frustration spiked again, whipping through her, heaving her breath and tensing her shoulders. She sped up her pace, focused on the slap of tennis shoe against concrete. A few minutes later, panting and scratching at the sweat that gathered under her beanie, Shane slowed to a jog and shook her head.

The ball cancelation couldn't be helped. The gift could be given later. But once again an opportunity had been missed. Was this a sign? That there would never be more between them? That they were destined to simply be coworkers?

Her heart clenched as her lips pinched. She blinked back her sudden tears. Shane gave her spiraling thoughts a decided shove, turned up the volume on her playlist, and focused on her original motive for the run, putting Oliver and their … whatever … out of her head.

##

Christmas morning, Oliver poured a cup of coffee, pulled his leather-bound copy of A Christmas Carol from the bookshelf in the living room, and settled on the couch. He would finally read Dickens's tale again, but the opportunity did nothing to assuage his disappointment that it was now more than a year since he had danced with Shane.

He studied the cover of the book and allowed his thoughts to wander. He had watched her at dinner at the Mailbox Grille. Though her smiles and enjoyment of the team together were genuine, regret had lurked in her eyes. Yes, she had definitely been looking forward to the ball and possibly even dancing with him. He had contemplated asking her to do … something … for Christmas Eve just so they could be together. But unable to construct an enjoyable activity on such a short notice, he let the moment pass.

Defeat, however, had dogged him ever since. But perhaps there could still be a solution that would soothe their twin disappointments? Their forthcoming dinner together might incorporate dancing as a part of the evening.

The idea gained clarity as he pondered. Dancing was an appropriate enhancement of an evening out. However, there were not many locations in Denver where that might be accomplished—at least not in an environment conducive to the more formal ballroom dance they enjoyed. Oliver set the book on the end table and retrieved the Denver phone book.

He turned to the yellow pages began a search of the restaurant listings. It had to be a special location as well as offer the opportunity to dance. After a few moments, his eyes landed on a listing, and he smiled. Yes. Montaldo's is perfect.