"Peeta," I call out, then put my hand over my mouth in embarrassment. To my ears, I sound too excited. But I am both surprised and happy as well. I thought he'd returned to Chicago.

At the sound of his name, Peeta turns. Confusion comes over him for a moment, but then his face erupts into a broad grin.

"What are you doing here, Katniss?"

"Visiting." I don't mention who I'm visiting, but I've no doubt he can figure it out since my mother made a point of telling him about my fiancé working in the state capital.

"I didn't know you were here," I babble. "Delly told me you lived up north in Chicago."

I bite down on my lower lip. I've said too much. He'll think I've been pumping Delly for information about him.

But he simply shakes his head. "Not anymore. Now I'm in Frankfort. I was hired to paint a history mural through a program the Treasury Department is operating."

He chuckles. "The Mellarks and the Department of the Treasury have an interesting relationship. Either they're arresting us or shooting us or giving us jobs to decorate public buildings."

I'm surprised at the openness of his comments. But then we're not in my mother's house in Dandelion anymore.

Encouraged, I feel the need to be truthful as well. "I'm glad to see you because you left before I could say good-bye."

"I'm sorry, but the doctor appeared and announced that I could go. You were at work so I left the letter."

A letter. What is he talking about?

"You wrote me a letter?"

His features harden. "Didn't your mother give it to you? I folded a dollar inside it to go toward my meals. Your mother made a lot of comments about how much I was eating and I wanted to help out."

I remember her reprimand about making the milk last, but did she make other comments to him as well? She was alone with Peeta in the house all day while I was at work.

She could have said anything to him.

"My mother showed me the dollar you gave her, but she never gave me a letter."

She likely opened it, removed the cash, and threw the letter away. Still she showed me the dollar bill and even praised Peeta for it in a roundabout way.

"What did you say in the letter?"

Peeta's hand goes up and rubs the back of his neck. A sheepish grin appears on his face. "Lots of things. Look it's almost noon. I'm about ready to break for lunch. Why don't you join me? I packed a sandwich, it's only peanut butter, but we could share. I have an apple, too."

My stomach drops because more than anything I want to share that peanut butter sandwich and apple with Peeta and find out what he wrote to me in his letter, but I'm supposed to meet Gale. What does it say about me that I'd rather stay with Peeta than eat lunch with my fiancé who I've hardly seen in a couple of months?

"I can't Peeta. I have to meet someone at noon."

I'm sure he can guess who my date is.

"Oh." He sounds disappointed. "How long will you be in Frankfort?"

"I leave early tomorrow morning for home."

Peeta's face drops. He lifts his cap off his head and runs his fingers through his hair. It's growing long and curls up at the ends. "Well it was good seeing you again at any rate."

I refuse to say good-bye, though. "Will you be coming back to Dandelion when you finish this job?"

He puts his hat back on. "Maybe, I don't know yet."

"Well stop by if you're in town. I'll have lunch with you then."

I give him a big smile and leave. Outside the post office I collapse against the side of the building.

What have I done? Flirted with Peeta? Asked him to have lunch with me? I'm engaged to Gale.

Already I hear a nearby clock striking the hour. I pull myself together and walk briskly toward my hotel.

I get to the hotel ten minutes past the hour, but Gale isn't there. I sit in the small lobby and wait.

A couple comes to the front counter, hand-in-hand. I suspect they are newlywed because even when their hands fall apart so that the gentleman can pull his wallet from his coat pocket to pay the bill, they never lose contact - the woman instinctively flattens a wrinkle from the man's suit coat, running her hand along his back.

When the man puts his wallet back into his pocket, his arm immediately reaches round her waist to draw her close.

The pair seems so certain about their love for each other. Envy floods me because I know that I don't have feelings like that for Gale.

I can't ever imagine us touching like that in public. He doesn't even act like that around me in private.

I get so caught up in watching this couple, and the others that check out after them, that it doesn't dawn on me that Gale is tardy. The big clock on the wall behind the counter registers twelve thirty when he arrives.

"I'm sorry." Gale cheeks are flushed. "The meeting was long. I ran all the way here."

The image of Gale running down the steps of the statehouse and through the streets of Frankfort in his suit makes me smile.

"That's all right. I was just people-watching."

"See anything interesting?"

I think back to the couple I've named `the newlyweds.' "Maybe." Perhaps I should mention them to Gale.

"Let's go, I'm starving. You can tell me about your people-watching as we walk."

I hardly think telling Gale that I'm unhappy about our passionless relationship is conversation for a stroll to a restaurant. Instead I redirect the conversation to his meeting.

"Big news," he says. "This could change everything." His voice lowers, and he walks closer to my side.

"The senator is thinking of running for the U.S. Congress. If he wins, he'll be moving to Washington, D.C."

My mouth drops. "Would you go too?

"Of course, I'd go Katniss. I'm his right-hand man. It will be great since my family is living there already."

"But what about us?"

"Well, you'll come too," he says. "We'd probably be married by then."

I don't want to move to Washington, D.C. with Gale. What will happen to my mother?

Besides what would I do all day while Gale is on the job? It's obvious he works long hours.

My face must show my concerns because Gale tries to reassure me. "Don't get ahead of things Katniss; it's still in the talking stage. Besides the senator might not even win."

That's true I remind myself.

Gale takes me to the same diner we ate at yesterday. It is far less crowded, today.

"You must like this place to take me here twice in two days."

"Why bother trying someplace new when the food here is good enough," Gale says.

After we place our orders, Gale asks me about how I spent my morning.

"I took a long walk. I bought a postcard for Primmie and took it to the post office to mail. The government has contracted for someone to paint a history mural on one of the walls there."

I don't mention that it's our former boarder Peeta and that he offered to share his lunch with me, and I shamelessly flirted with him and told him to buy me lunch the next time he was in Dandelion.

Now would be a good time to mention my concerns about our engagement. But I don't get a chance.

"Yeah, the legislature has done a good job of attracting federal dollars to the state."

I'm sick of conversation about the government. Is that all Gale cares about anymore? He used to have other interests.

"What do you do in your spare time?"

He chuckles. "Sleep mostly. I don't have much spare time. But we're going to have some fun this afternoon."

My ears perk up.

"The senator is loaning me his car so I can take you on a drive."

After we finish our meal, we walk to the senator's home. It's a large house on a residential street. Gale pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks a shiny black car parked next to the curb.

"You've driven this thing before?"

Gale nods.

We spend the afternoon driving around the countryside outside of Frankfort. It's a sunny day. Signs of the coming spring abound all around with tiny green shoots poking through the dark earth. Some trees have buds on their branches indicating that they are waking up from their long slumber.

There are so many things we could discuss on our drive, like Gale's close friendship with Madge Undersee, the Senator's career plans and their possible affect on our lives, or my worries about my mother's debts. But I don't want to argue and I fear that every topic might lead me into an argument.

I desperately want to go back to the easy way we once were - before we became engaged. So I keep to safe subjects, trivial matters, gossip about people we both know in Dandelion.

"Seems like a person could do some fine hunting around here," I say as we drive through a long wooded stretch of highway.

"Yeah, if only I had the time," Gale admits.

We stop at a roadside stand in the middle of nowhere and purchase sandwiches for dinner, eating them on picnic benches, before getting in the car and heading back to Frankfort.

"Are you sure you know how to get back?"

"I hope so," he says.

Our conversation dies out as he drives back to Frankfort. It's as if we're both talked out.

It's already dark when he pulls up to the hotel. "We should say good-bye now," Gale says, as the engine idles. "I know your bus leaves early tomorrow."

"You're not seeing me off then?"

He shakes his head. "I can't Katniss. The Senator called for an early morning meeting."

On Sunday?

"All right then."

After nary a touch or caress, throughout the entire day, Gale leans forward to kiss me, but when our lips meet I feel nothing. It's as if I'm kissing a marble stone.

He pulls back. "Don't fret about the senator's run for Congress. He's just thinking about it for now."

My throat tightens.

"I'll write," he promises.

Opening the car door, I get out and wave at Gale as he drives away.

I twist my engagement ring round and round my finger during the bus ride home. At the end of it, I've come to a decision. I can't marry Gale. I have no romantic feelings for him, and I find it difficult to believe that he has any for me either based on our visit.

My thoughts fly to Peeta. I may never see him again - and that idea lies heavy on my heart – still without knowing it, he did me a big favor. He made me realize that if I do marry, I want to feel something; I need to feel something.

If I'm going to have the cake, I want the frosting too.

My mother and Mags greet me enthusiastically. "How was your visit?" my mother asks.

With a twinkle in her eye Mags jokes, "You didn't secretly get married in Frankfort, did you?"

In the midst of my unease, the look of horror on my mother's face brings a smile to mine. I almost want to lie and tell her that I did elope, in retaliation for her withholding Peeta's letter from me.

I'm angry at her about it, but I know it will do no good to argue. She will insist that she did the right thing. And not knowing what Peeta wrote me in that letter, perhaps she had cause for alarm. At least I hope so as I remember the self-conscious look on his face as he avoided telling me exactly what he wrote.

"I had a unexpectedly insightful visit," I tell both women.

"Have you set a date then?"

I shake my head and my mother scowls.

I manage to avoid further conversation by skipping dinner that evening and feigning tiredness. Then, it's back to work the next day.

Yawning, I rub my hand along Mockingjay's neck thankful for the woman who offers me a cup of strong tea after I handed her a copy of Good Housekeeping.

After a couple of months at this job I've gotten to know the folks I visit fairly well. I know who can read and who can't. I know who favors practical reading materials and who favors works of fantasy.

A fair number of the women on my routes are readers of romantic stories. It always struck me as frivolous waste of time. Now I think I was completely wrong.

Poverty abounds in the hills and valleys around Dandelion. There are no banquet tables piled high with food, no fancy party dresses to wear, no shiny cars to be driven through the countryside to while away an afternoon.

Lives are hard, especially for women who act as the heart of the family. A little sunshine and hope – even if it's in the form of a romantic tale – can ease the burden and make their lives more bearable.

I spend a second evening awake, tossing and turning over the unfinished business of my engagement. It's after midnight when I get up and pen a letter to Gale listing all the reasons I can't marry him.

I don't want to lose Gale as my friend, just as my fiancé. Will he accept that our engagement is a mistake?

Relieved after writing it, I'm finally able to fall asleep. I mail it the following morning.

But I don't tell my mother yet out of fear of her reaction.

"Your fiancé wrote," my mother says as she hands me a letter when I return from work on Thursday.

"I'm guessing he misses you and wants to know when you can meet up again. A June wedding would be ideal."

Taking the letter from my mother, I escape to the privacy of my bedroom to read it. A nervous sensation goes through me as I open the envelope, expecting the latest news about some upcoming piece of legislation and Madge Undersee's opinion of it. Has Gale received my letter yet?

Instead, my mouth falls open as I read Gale's words.

I don't know how to tell you Katniss, but I think we should break off our engagement. Seeing you in Frankfort this weekend made it clear to me that our relationship has always been more of a friendship than one of lovers.

I'm so sorry about everything.

I expect this will make things difficult for you – I know your mother will be upset. If there's anything I can do – if you want me to write to her - tell me and I'll do it.

Keep the ring.

I hope in spite of all this, we can still be friends. I value our friendship.

Taking a temperature of my emotions, I'm surprisingly relieved. Gale won't be hurt by my rejection because he, too, could see that we weren't meant to be together.

As for the ring, I will hold on to it and return it when I see him next. I'm not looking to profit off our mistake.

Eventually I go downstairs and tell my mother in front of Mags, hoping that her presence will temper my mother's reaction. It doesn't.

"He broke the engagement?" my mother cries out. "We'll sue him for breach of promise."

"It was a mutual decision Mama."

"Mark my words, there's someone else," she declares. "Or he wouldn't have done this."

I have a good idea who Gale's someone else is. Much as I dislike her though, who am I to criticize when someone else made my decision far easier too?

My mother retires early to bed, while Mags tries to cheer me up over a cup of tea.

"A very similar thing happened to me," she says. She relates an event that occurred more than fifty years prior when her beau dropped her unexpectedly. "But then I met Mr. Russell." A dreamy look comes over her, and then a blush appears on her wrinkled cheeks. "He was so handsome," she says of her husband who is long dead.

My mother is in mourning the next few days, as if she was the one who suffered the loss. I am almost happy when Dr. Snow appears Sunday afternoon while Mags is napping. "I have another patient for you. I'll bring him by tomorrow."

"We have no more room," my mother says, emerging from her grief.

"You have a empty bedroom upstairs," the doctor points out. "And this man can climb stairs."

"We can't keep a man upstairs. That's where Katniss and I sleep."

"What's wrong with him?" I break in. I'm tired of my mother's refusal. Has she not realized we have no choice in the matter? The sooner we can pay back the doctor, the better.

"Nothing that a week of rest and home-cooked meals won't improve on," says Dr. Snow.

My mother scowls. "How are we supposed to feed him? I can't afford to be feeding all these extra people."

The doctor frowns. "I'll bring some groceries along with him."

Before Dr. Snow leaves he gives us one more instruction about Darius Whitlock, our newest boarder. "Don't offer him any alcohol."

The smell of fried bacon and potatoes fills the house when I arrive home from work Monday. Darius helps my mother in the kitchen. He is a slight man, not much taller than me, with a ready grin and bright red hair.

My mother seems taken with him. "Darius is related to the Langley family that owns the Langley's Department Stores."

Langley's has stores across three states: Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri.

"I oversee sales in the Kentucky stores. The job requires a lot of travel," he volunteers, as if that explains how he landed in Dandelion, a town far too small to be a home for a Langley's Department Store.

Mags soon joins us and we sit down to a lively meal as Darius entertains us with stories about his travels around Kentucky. He drops the names of a lot of wealthy people that my mother has long lost touch with.

While he talks I study him, wondering why he is here. He appears to be in good health, although his skin is a bit sallow. Is Dr. Snow now using our home as a hotel for vacationers too?

After the meal, though, my mother complains of a sick headache.

"I know just the cure for that," Darius says. He turns to me. "Do you have any wine?"

"A little glass will cure that ill in a jiffy, Lil."

"We have none in the house; besides my mother doesn't drink."

I remember the doctor's words about not offering Darius any alcohol and an idea about his malady begins to take shape in my thoughts.

Over the next week, I listen carefully to Darius' stories. There is an underlying sadness to this man who seems to crave the attention my mother and Mags offer him.

Still he steps in like a member of the family and cooks many of our meals during his stay, as my mother's headache lingers.

She has suffered off and on with headaches in the past, but they generally go away after resting in a dark room. This pain continues, though, making her unable to stand at the stove for long.

"You should have been friendlier to him," my mother says when Darius leaves. "He comes from a well-off family. Any girl would be lucky to have him."

She's right about his family having money, but I sense other problems with Darius, things that would try the patience of any woman.

On his last evening with us he goes out for a walk and comes home late, after my mother and I have turned in. He slams the front door and stumbles up the stairs. I open my bedroom door a crack to see if he is all right and the smell of alcohol is strong.

Dr. Snow appears the next day to take him away.

Before Gale, my mother didn't seem to care whether I wed or stayed a spinster. But I worry that my broken engagement gives her a new cause to concern herself with, finding me a husband.

But that concern ends when Mama collapses.

Author's Note: As mentioned in the Author's Note following chapter three, post office art was funded through a program operated by the Department of the Treasury, not the WPA. The Treasury Department's Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives was/is responsible for enforcing laws regarding moonshine.

A United States congressional representative serves a two-year term. A person must be at least 25 years old and an American citizen for the past seven years to serve.

Langley's Department Stores are fictional. Chain department stores existed in the 1930s, but for liable reasons, I chose not to use the name of a real store in this fictional story.