The Days of Mail and Roses

By Felicia Ferguson

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

January

If Christmas was the time of missed opportunities, then January looked to be the time of no opportunities at all. The first week, Oliver spent much of the morning in first-of-the-year meetings. And the second week, Shane was seat warming in afternoon training sessions on the upgrades to the USPS Text Tracking software.

The hours they were together were just as unfruitful. Every dead letter that found its way to the DLO required only the least amount of detective work to redirect it to its destination. Oliver deciphered enough information for Norman to find an address in a phone book or Rita to pop it out of her photographic memory. There was no hacking, no database searches, and worst of all, no personal deliveries with Oliver.

Child's play, Oliver had once called it.

When do the adults get to play?

Shane heaved a sigh and checked her email. Again. It had been months since she'd forwarded the McInerney house plans to Ms. Bullock. Surely, there would be some news on their modifications by now.

She scanned her inbox. But there was nothing. Either the architect took the whole holiday season off, or they had found someone who was immune to the inducement of Oliver's fortune.

Shane stared at Oliver's desk chair, empty because he was once again in a meeting. Did he miss talking with her as much as she missed talking with him? Or was the niggling concern they were only destined to be friendly co-workers really right?

The back doors to the DLO squeaked opened. Shane felt the change in the air, and her lips lifted. Surely, there had to be more between them at some point. Why else would she always feel drawn to him?

She turned around and watched him charge through the DLO. Head down, lips pinched, Oliver said none of his normal greetings, not even a comment on Norman and Rita's current discussion of Ramon's latest weather report. She shot them a concerned look, but they only shrugged and followed in his silent wake.

Oliver headed straight for the refrigerator and popped the top of one of his Yoo-Hoos. He studied its contents for a moment, then took a long, considered draw.

The hairs on the back of Shane's neck stood up. "Oliver?" she asked quietly.

His mouth dropped open, but he said nothing. Instead, he set the Yoo-Hoo on his desk then removed his suit jacket and hung it on the coat rack. Finally, he faced them and clasped his hands in front of him, his face blanking with professional distance.

Shane's stomach turned over. Whatever's coming, it's not good.

Oliver glanced between the three of them, features still nearly unreadable. "Since we have reached something of a lull in our work load, Glynnis Rucker has tasked me with reassigning you each to assist other postal departments for a few days."

Oliver's eyes caught hers and something flashed across them, disappearing as soon as it arrived.

Shane laced her fingers together, bracing herself for news that she would be sent to North Glen and Direct Line Operations.

"Ms. McInerney, you will be assisting with the onboarding of new postal employees, acquainting them with the computer … ah … operational system we use."

Operating. Shane automatically corrected, lips quirking at his error even as her heart sank. More time away from each other. But at least I'm still here at the main branch.

He glanced down at the paper in his hand then barreled on with the assignments. "Norman, you will be assisting with the organization of the current stamp inventory in preparation for the upcoming release of the new collector's stamps."

Norman nodded, his eyes lighting up at the thought of spending more hands-on time with stamps.

Oliver rose on his toes and turned his attention to the remaining member of the group. "And Rita, you will be assigned to the Sorting floor. Apparently, they are still behind after the Christmas rush and need to be ready for Valentine's Day." He paused, and his cheeks twitched with wry amusement. "Ah, and your roller skates might be a helpful accessory."

Rita grinned and nodded. "I'll bring them in tomorrow."

Shane smashed her lips together. Wouldn't that leave Oliver here alone? She flicked a quick look to Rita and Norman. "Will you be … going … anywhere?"

Oliver's mouth parted as he rolled up his shirt cuffs. "Ah, no. Someone needs to remain to ensure any items that do come to the DLO are still processed in a timely manner."

Shane's heart twisted. "I'm sorry, Oliver."

He sniffed and straightened his shoulders even further, assuming a military bearing that would make the harshest drill sergeant proud. His tone cooled, and she felt him take yet another invisible step back from her. "It's quite all right. I will … hold down the fort … as it were. And be here to welcome you each when you return from your new assignments."

She wanted to reach out to him, touch his arm, his cheek, anything to soften what had to be a blow. But instead, she nodded and flashed a supportive smile.

Oliver gestured widely for the three of them to proceed through the exit in front of him. "Now then, let's see you each off to your temporary departments."

Shane flicked a worried glance to Rita and Norman and picked up her purse. But he was right. The sooner they left, the sooner they'd be back.

##

Oliver cut the car's engine and stared at the exterior of his residence. For the first time in his fifteen years in the DLO, he was glad to be home from work. The DLO was like a second home, and he'd often spent his after-work hours within its walls, taking comfort in his calling. But after he had sent his team on their ways to their new, albeit temporary, assignments and he had returned to his desk, the silence echoed rather than comforted.

With a determined effort, he had focused on the reports and memoranda which required his attention. However, he caught his gaze drifting more often than not to Shane's vacant desk, seeking solace in the quiet. He made mental note that her tablet remained secured in its display stand. The computer continued to hum. Even her chair seat was turned in anticipation of her return. He then confirmed his initial reading of the assignment notice.

It was four days. Less than a full week.

Oliver released the steering wheel with a decided sniff. And as of five o'clock this afternoon, day one of the four-day reassignment was now complete. The rest would surely pass in a similar, albeit quiet fashion. Then Shane … ah, the team … would return.

During her absence, and in lieu of solving the mystery of the dead letter, he could tidy up his desk area. It was nearing time for another thorough polishing of the awards. And then he could reorganize and rotate his letter opener collection. He could also take in an assortment of records from his collection. Music would certainly help the time pass. Satisfied with his plan, Oliver nodded and climbed out of his car.

Opening the front door, he caught the ending tone of the telephone's chipper ring. He dropped his briefcase and keys without thought and hurried to the living room. Perhaps it was Shane calling to update him on her day? Or even Dad, reaching out? Oliver lifted the phone from the cradle as the final ring sounded.

A dial tone greeted his hello. He pursed his lips and studied the receiver. His preference for the twentieth century did not extend to caller ID, so he could only guess who had been on the other end of the line. It could have been Dad, but it just as easily might have been an employee at a call center wanting to sell him an extended warranty on his home appliances.

I should try to reach Dad again anyway. And if he was the caller, then surely, he'll still be near the phone to answer. Oliver closed the connection then reopened it and dialed. But the phone only rang. Finally, Dad's answering machine picked up. As the greeting progressed, he waffled over leaving a message. He did loathe voicemail, but if he left a message, perhaps Dad might return the call this evening? It would be nice to hear a familiar voice in light of the quiet in the DLO. With a nod, Oliver opted to give him the opportunity.

"Dad. This is Oliver. I missed a phone call as I was arriving home from work and wanted to call in case it might have been from you. I hope you are well and that we can speak soon."

Satisfied with the message, Oliver hung up then returned to the foyer to retrieve his abandoned briefcase and keys and set them in their proper home location. As they often seemed to do of late, Oliver's thoughts again strayed to Shane. He hoped she enjoyed her reassignment duties. She was the best technology expert he knew, so her assigned task was unsurprising. And he was gratified that she was at least still in the Main Branch rather than in Direct Line Operations. If she had been sent to that DLO, it was highly likely they would have tried to determine some reason to keep her on staff. Oliver's stomach clenched at the thought.

He yanked his mind away from that possibility and searched for more pleasant ponderings. Perhaps her return would be an opportune time for their dinner? Between conflicting meetings and uncomplicated mail mysteries, the last few weeks had afforded little time for them to continue connecting on a deeper level. A dinner invitation would alleviate that absence with a definite time of quiet discussions of their interests and histories and a continued the probing of their chemistry.

But then he did want their dinner together to be special. Ergo, should he wait for a more special occasion? February was only a week away, and Valentine's Day certainly fit that descriptor. Dinner at Montaldo's that evening was certain to be incredible and the musicians for the dancing, above par. It would make for a memorable evening, well in line with his plan of courting Shane.

Oliver removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie as he contemplated the scenario. After pouring a glass of wine, he sat at his sitting room table and gazed out at Washington Park Road. A couple walked by hand-in-hand, and the woman leaned in to kiss the man's cheek. They would certainly enjoy Valentine's Day this year.

He and Shane, however, were not nearly as close as that couple. Would dinner together on Valentine's Day given their current relationship status be considered too forward? Should he schedule their evening out for a less obvious day? Wasn't the location itself special enough without the February fourteenth date attached to it?

Oliver's eyes narrowed. He glanced at the phone. It would be most helpful to have another perspective. Perhaps Dad would call later, and Oliver could glean some insights from him. With a nod, Oliver took another sip of his wine then headed into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

##

Shane trudged down the stairs from her bedroom, twining her hair into a loose braid as she went. Working with the new hires hadn't been awful and a few were even tech-oriented like herself, which made the training go much smoother than she'd anticipated. If they continued to learn as fast as they had so far, she could enlist them to help orient the slower learners and possibly get back to the DLO sooner than the assigned four days.

But then again, Glynnis Rucker had been the one making the reassignments. And since she still hadn't gotten over Rita's besting Vivinee at the local Miss Special Delivery competition, it was likely she'd stick to her guns with the assignment length—if not try and figure out some way to extend it.

Shane snorted and grabbed her yard coat, tucked her beanie over her hair, and headed out to the shed to check on the rose cutting. Feeling more like a glutton for punishment than a careful steward of her precious plant, she'd decreased her monitoring to once a week. She pushed open the door, flicked on the light, and peered at the cutting. Still leafless, but when she touched it again, she savored the gentle give in the stem.

Summer was still months away, so she couldn't give up on the stick-plant yet. But fertilizing had to wait until it was planted. And roses always went dormant in the winter. So there was nothing she could do in the meantime. Unless …

Her lips bunched as she crossed her arms and studied the plant. "Maybe I should start talking to you." If nothing else, the cutting might have some insight on what was going on with her and Oliver since she certainly had no idea.

Shrugging, Shane pulled a five-gallon bucket from the corner and flipped it over. Tucking her jacket between her rear end and the cold plastic, she sat then bit her lip.

Was she really going to do this? Talk to a plant? Mom had done that regularly as Shane was growing up—especially in the spring after Dad had left. She'd spill her guts for hours as she pruned roses and weeded beds.

Shane sighed. Really, she was out of options. "I guess talking is it." Shaking her head, she racked her brain for some sort of topic of con—well, monologue. Maybe retelling the cutting's origin story?

She flicked a quick glance over her shoulder. Even with the shed's door still ajar, the neighbors wouldn't hear her and wonder. She took a deep breath and began, "Do you remember the day Alex and I found you at the garden store? I thought you were the most beautiful plant I'd ever seen …"

##

The third morning of the reassignment, Shane sat at a four-top table in the Mailbox Grille hoping Oliver would stop by for breakfast or even just a coffee before going to the DLO. But as she'd eaten her meal and now stirred her third cup of her preferred skinny vanilla latte, there was still no appearance by her boss.

Shane shook her head. Why had she thought she could orchestrate an accidental meeting? It was like she was back in high school when she hung out by the lockers outside the gym and waited for Bobby Johnson to leave basketball practice.

But Oliver wasn't Bobby Johnson. He really was worth waiting for. Shane glanced at the wall clock and pursed her lips. She had ten minutes before she had to be in the training room. It was a five-minute walk there from the Mailbox Grille. She could wait a little longer, right?

Suddenly, the air in the Grille seemed to sparkle. Shane closed her eyes and savored the familiar sensation. Don't look. You might pressure him if you do. Locking her gaze on her coffee, Shane willed herself to give Oliver space. It was enough to simply feel him near … wasn't it?

But then a slight shadow fell over her table, and she sighed her relief. She looked up and into the brightest gleam she'd ever seen in Oliver's eyes.

He clasped his hands behind his back and rose on his toes. "Ms. McInerney, it is good to see you this morning. How are your efforts progressing with the new assignment?"

"Oliver." Could she say, I've missed you? I can't wait to be back? She swallowed the impulse and focused on answering his question. "It's going well. The trainees are picking everything up quickly, but … I'm looking forward to getting back to the DLO."

He nodded once then glanced around the restaurant. "Ah, yes, it will be good to have the team reunited."

Shane's heart clenched at his formal tones. Of course, he had to be lonely. And that gleam in his eyes might have been just as bright at seeing Rita or Norman. But still, her crazy heart clung to the possibility he was genuinely happy to see her.

Shane caught the time out of the corner of her eye and swallowed her sigh. Rising, she allowed her disappointment to flood her eyes. She wanted to reach for him, but instead she grabbed her purse and flashed him a sad smile. "I'm sorry, but … I have to go. I need to be there in a few minutes." She paused, holding his gaze and hoping he could see how much she missed him. "Have a good day, Oliver … I'll see you on Friday."

Oliver gave another brisk nod. "Friday. Yes. I will see you then. Bright and early."

Shane eased around him, but turned back as she reached the exit. Their eyes met once again, and his lips flickered into a small, fond smile. She closed her eyes in a long blink, tucking the simple moment in her heart. He had missed her.

Two more days.

##

Oliver sat at his desk in the DLO contemplating the earlier interlude with Shane as Chopin lilted from the record player. The moment had tugged at something inside him, increasing his longing for a deeper relationship with her.

Their long-promised evening out had to be scheduled. And Valentine's Day at Montaldo's would send a definite message of his interest in courting her. Yes. That would be perfect.

That decided, the question became how to best extend the invitation. Like the evening, he wanted the request to be special. As Jordan had once said, Shane was a very special lady. And she deserved to be treated as such. Oliver's gentlemanly bent would allow nothing less.

A carton of mail slipped down the ramp, peppering the perfect classical tones with the jaunty racket of carton hitting gliders. Oliver watched the carton slide to a stop and his eyes narrowed in consideration. Invitations to special events, like parties or weddings, were sent in the mail. And he did consider letter writing to be the gold standard of communication. Perhaps he could send a handwritten and mailed invitation? It would demonstrate his care and value of her time and presence.

Oliver's lips lifted as he rose and walked to the overflowing box. He picked up a handful of envelopes and began sorting them, studying the missing or incomplete addresses before dropping them in the appropriate bins.

A few of the envelopes had Valentine's-related stickers affixed to their exteriors. He tapped one of the envelopes against his hand as he considered the decoration.

Yes. He would not only send the invitation. He would make Shane a valentine.