Author's Note: Fair warning…this is a long chapter. In my note from Chapter 9, I promised to resolve the mystery in this chapter, but as I started to write, the story, as it often does, took on a life of its own. This is the final chapter, but there is an epilogue to come that will close out any unfinished business (like…did Shane ever end up in Oliver's DLO? Did they ever dance in the dance showcase?). Truth be told, I could go on and on with this story, but I have a little Christmas ditty that's been rolling around in my head, and, well, we're only about ten days out from Christmas Eve, so the clock is ticking!

Chapter 10

Shane's Saturday morning appeared to be cursed by Murphy's Law, as everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Wrinkles of pain contorted her face as she tried wiggling her big toe that throbbed following its collision with her bed frame this morning. How could she dance when she was barely shuffling right now? She stepped into the shower and put one hand on the tile wall, bracing herself for what would come. Whoever convinced her that cold showers were a good thing probably had only read about them. Months into this practice, she still hadn't gotten used to the shock to her system. It was made worse on hair-washing days. Exposing her body to the freezing temperature was one thing, but sticking her head under a spray of icy water took it to another level. It made for a much quicker shower, except this morning when she realized she'd forgotten to buy more shampoo and stood under the frigid stream coaxing out every last drop from the bottle. She stepped from the shower into her fluffy robe, her cheeks pink from the cold.

The usual alertness she felt after her shower was dimmed by the sense of foreboding that hung over her like a dark cloud. Heading to the kitchen to make her morning latte, she was down to her last bit of ground coffee, barely enough to make a cup. It seemed like the universe conspired against her, making her morning a complete disaster. She seriously considered crawling back under her covers and hiding out for the day.

She knew what it was. She'd not been herself since Wednesday night, and that dance with Oliver still made her limbs tremble. Her resolve to stay away from him until today's dance lesson had backfired. She thought putting distance between them would cool the heat that sizzled Wednesday night. She knew he felt it, too. Why else would he leave the studio without even saying goodnight to her? The gentleman she'd gotten to know would never leave her to walk to her car alone.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't shake off the intense emotions consuming her. What was the old saying? The phrase "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" always seemed a bit cliché to her, something you would read on a greeting card. But now, after just two days, she had to admit there was some truth to it. She missed that he opened her car door for her. She longed to see the little half-smile that tugged at the corner of his lips when he found something amusing but wouldn't admit it. She longed to feel his hand holding hers firmly while they danced. She craved his scent, which was as unique as Oliver himself. She even missed their occasional bickering over differing opinions. She felt a rush of heat at the thought of seeing him again, almost making her step back into the cold shower.

Standing in the middle of her closet, she scanned various clothing options, searching for something to wear. The blue dress she'd worn for their last lesson stuck out from the rest after she'd hastily shoved it into the closet following Wednesday night's emotionally charged dance had depleted all of her reserves. She pulled it from the rest and smoothed the wrinkles with her hand. Guilt washed over her, knowing she'd deliberately chosen the dress as something of a test for Oliver. She had felt the push and pull of attraction between them, and despite his current circumstance, she couldn't resist the urge to know if he'd felt it, too. Her intention was certainly not to seduce him. She just had to know if there was anything to hope for. Now she couldn't shake the regret at unfairly testing him.

As she prepared for dance class, she opted for a more conservative look, selecting a pair of slacks and a simple blouse. She pulled her hair up and applied light makeup. She picked up her dance shoes, intending to wait to put them on at the studio, hoping the tenderness of her toe would subside enough that she could wear them comfortably.

She arrived at the studio at one o'clock and anxiously scanned the parking lot for Oliver's car, surprised it wasn't there. She'd been too anxious to eat earlier and now her stomach was in knots. She wasn't sure if it was coffee on an empty stomach or the trepidation of coming face-to-face with Oliver. Walking to the studio, she kept glancing in every direction, anticipating the sight of his Jag at any moment. Ramon was just inside the door.

"Ah, Shane. It is lovely to see you this afternoon. Is Ovileer with you?"

"Um, no, I thought he might already be here since I'm a few minutes late."

"No, I haven't seen him yet, and I've been here since earlier this morning."

"Hmm. Well, I'll wait here until he shows up."

Shane sank into one of the cushioned chairs in front of the giant wall of windows. She pulled out her phone to check the time. It was five after, with no sign of the Jag or Oliver. This was very unlike him. She watched the other couples practice their dances, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment remembering Wednesday's practice. She hoped having others present today would keep her emotions in check.

By quarter after, Shane's stomach was lurching, and her mind traveled to every possibility that could be keeping Oliver away. "Ramon, I'm going across the street to the café. If Oliver shows up, can you send him over there?"

"Of course, Shane." Ramon scanned her face. "Is everything okay?"

Her voice cracked, and she swallowed the ache growing in the back of her throat. Her voice trembled as she struggled to speak. "I don't know." Her distracted thoughts made her miss the honking and screech of tires from the car that almost hit her as she made her way across the street. Her head jerked, and she saw the driver shaking his fist at her. She raised an apologetic hand and hurried over to the café.

She found a booth next to the door and by the big picture window that spanned the front of the building. Her eyes continued to dart back and forth, watching for his car or, better yet, him. She scrolled through her contacts and tapped Rita's name. Her fingers flew as she typed. 'Oliver didn't show up at our dance lesson this morning. Is he sick? Did something come up at work?' She hit the send button and waited. A young waitress wearing a bright smile stopped at her table.

"Can I get you anything?"

Her growling stomach needed something in it, but she wasn't sure she could eat. "I'll have some hot tea and a muffin. Whatever kind you have." Her phone pinged, and she turned her attention to it, ignoring the waitress. It was Rita. With a shaky finger, she tapped the screen.

'Hi Shane, I don't know where Oliver is. He came into the office on Thursday morning but left right away. He told Norman and me that he had some business he needed to attend to, that he would be out of the office, and that we were in charge. He didn't say anything else and didn't say when he would be back.'

Slumping against the back of the booth, her mind raced to a multitude of possibilities. She didn't even notice the waitress approaching with her order. She looked up at her and gave her a thin smile. She added several sugar packets to her tea and stirred much longer than necessary. She picked at the muffin, forcing down a couple of bites. Where could he be? Why wouldn't he tell me he wouldn't be at our lesson today? A barrage of questions crashed her brain like waves on a shoreline. She was at a loss. She was tempted to ask Rita for his home address. She'd googled Oliver shortly after meeting him and found no online presence besides a mention in his grandfather's obituary. That wasn't helpful other than filling in the O'Toole family tree members.

Lost in thought, she briefly considered the ill-advised possibility of using a back-door online route to scour the USPS databases in search of an address. She was sure it was somewhere, but the sharp pangs of guilt she felt were hard to ignore. The memory of her less-than-forthright actions of Wednesday evening still stung, and her phone call to Ramón earlier on Wednesday afternoon compounded her humiliation. The choice of song they danced to wasn't chosen by chance. It was one of Billy Joel's lesser-known songs, a sad tune with words that burrowed deep into her soul. She had grown up listening to her father's albums almost every night after he got home from work, at least until she was ten and he stopped coming home altogether.

Shane remembered the song after having dinner with Oliver at Elway's when he told her he felt safe with her. She'd felt the same with him, too, and had shared the story of her father leaving. She'd gone home that evening, pulled up the song on her Spotify playlist, and stood in her living room swaying to the music, her eyes closed, imagining dancing to it with Oliver. Now, she wasn't sure if she'd manifested the intensity of their dance or subconsciously manipulated it.

The relentless Murphy's law persisted Sunday morning when Shane realized she'd forgotten to stop and get coffee the day before. She threw on a pair of running shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops to accommodate her still aching but not throbbing toe and headed to the nearest Trader Joe's. She preferred Whole Foods, but, let's face it, she worked for the post office and couldn't afford to do her weekly shopping at the Whole Paycheck store. She grabbed the cart with the annoying wheel that didn't align with the others and took you off course every few feet. She stood before the shelves of coffee, staring blankly at bag after bag, each with a unique name that told her very little about what was inside. She was too tired to read each one, so she grabbed the one that indicated it had the highest level of caffeine. After a sleepless night, she needed as much as she could get. Now, she just wanted to sit on her front porch with her homemade latte to lift her spirits and give her respite from the current chaos she'd created for herself.

Shane loved summer in Denver. Sure, it got warm, but it was nothing like sweltering DC, where you soaked through your clothes the minute you stepped out into the humidity. Thinking about DC reminded her that she hadn't talked to Becky in weeks. It was 11ish in Denver, so with the time difference, Becky should be home from church. She picked up after a couple of rings.

"Hey, Shaney!" A quick smile crossed Shane's lips on hearing the nickname Becky had given her early on in their friendship. "How's Denver?"

Her eyes welled with tears, and she blinked to keep them from falling. She missed Becky and longed to have her sitting beside her on her porch instead of 1,500 miles away. She was her best friend and the only person she felt close to in DC. Sure, she had many acquaintances, but it was rare for Shane to let someone into her inner circle. Maybe that was what surprised her most when she met Oliver. She let her guard down with him, and now that she did, her heart was aching. Would she ever learn to guard it more carefully?

"It's good." She whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Hey, are you okay?" Shane could hear the concern in Becky's voice.

Was she okay? She struggled to answer. "Yes, no, I don't know," How could she answer Becky when she wasn't sure of the answer herself? The situation's complexity made it difficult for her to express it in a way that didn't sound completely absurd.

"Why don't you start from the beginning," Becky spoke encouragingly, but she wasn't pushy.

Shane took a big gulp of her latte and grimaced, realizing it had gone cold, but she slowly sipped anyway. Taking a deep breath, she began to recount the events of the past few weeks that she had shared with Oliver. The words tumbled from her mouth, almost tripping over one another in their eagerness to be heard. Once her story had been told, she felt a tiny sense of relief that she had finally shared it with someone, though it didn't remove the ache that had taken root around her heart.

"Oh, Shaney, you've got it bad."

Choking back a sob, she couldn't deny Becky's assessment. "It's so stupid. I knew I shouldn't have agreed to dance lessons. I just…" she hesitated, trying to use her words to sort out her feelings.

Becky tried to fill in the gaps Shane couldn't verbalize. "Do you really like this guy?"

Shane closed her eyes, contemplating the question. "I've never known anyone like him. He is as charming as he is aggravating. He is always a gentleman. I mean, he opens and closes the car door for me." Her heart fluttered, remembering how their hands touched when both reached for the door handle. "I know, I know, he's married. I should know better."

"Shaney, don't get mad at me for saying this, but in the two years you dated Steve, I don't remember you ever talking about him with so much…."

The sound of Steve's name felt like a gut punch, and Shane cut her off. "Steve doesn't hold a candle to Oliver. If I had any remaining feelings for him, being around Oliver has eliminated them."

"Well, that's good to hear. I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. Steve was a jerk."

Shane smiled for the first time all day. "You couldn't tell me that before?"

Becky laughed. "If you haven't noticed, you are not the best at taking advice."

Now Shane laughed out loud. "Fair enough. But now I'm asking for it. What should I do?"

Silence hung between them. "Let me ask you this. What are you afraid of?"

Tears she'd managed to keep at bay now trickled down her cheeks unchecked. "I'm afraid he's gone off to find his wife and save his marriage."

Becky let out a deep sigh Shane could hear through the phone. "And what will you do if that is the case?"

Shane knew she had to face the possibility that her fear could be realized. "I don't have much choice, do I? I'll stay in my office in Northglenn and avoid the downtown branch at all costs. I don't think I could stand to see him knowing he's rekindled his marriage.

###

And that is just what Shane did. She was busy troubleshooting an issue that had stumped everyone else in her office when her phone rang. Eleanor Van Teasdale was on the other end.

"Hi, Shane. I seem to be having an issue with my computer, and I was wondering if you could stop by and see what the problem could be."

The thought of returning to the downtown branch sent a low Richter-scale tremble through her. "Uhm, is it something I can help you with over the phone?" Her pulse quickened at the possibility of running into Oliver.

"No, no, dear. It would be much better if you came downtown to help me."

She spent the drive downtown debating whether to stop by the DLO to see if Oliver had returned. They were supposed to have a dance lesson later that evening, but she was still deciding about going. She was not vindictive by nature, but if Oliver O'Toole could skip out on their lesson, so could she. It would serve him right after his little disappearing act. Her mind was decided. She would take care of Eleanor's issue and leave as quickly as possible. Her only regret was that she wouldn't see Rita and Norman.

Eleanor waved her in. "Hi, Shane, thanks for coming down."

"It's no problem, Eleanor." Shane's eyes kept glancing toward the door, wondering if she might catch Oliver walking by. Shane settled in front of Eleanor's computer.

"So, how have you been?" Eleanor asked with a warm smile on her face.

Despite the friendly tone of her voice, Eleanor's eyes sparkled, and one of her eyebrows arched in a way that made Shane wonder if there wasn't more to her seemingly simple question. "I'm fine," her voice wavered.

"Really? So you're back in your office in Northglenn?"

Shane's eyes narrowed as she looked at Eleanor. "Yes?"

"Hmm. It's probably nice to be back in your office and away from the craziness of the downtown branch." Eleanor's query raised Shane's curiosity at the line of questioning.

"It is definitely quieter. I do miss the hectic energy of this branch." Shane sat behind Eleanor's computer, and her fingers began flying as she tried to replicate the issue Eleanor told her she was having.

"Is that all you miss?" Eleanor's lips curled into a little smirk.

Shane stopped mid-typing and stared blankly at the screen. "I'm not sure I know what you mean?"

"I think you do," she smiled. "How are your dance lessons?"

Shane's head shot up. "How do you know about that?"

Eleanor laughed. "I may have been the person who suggested you for his dance partner?"

"What? It was you? It wasn't Oliver's idea?" If she had found this out a week ago, she'd likely be thanking Eleanor for her interference, but after the turn things had taken, she found herself annoyed by her meddling.

"I may have planted the bug in Oliver's ear, but he's the one who had to act on it."

"Well, he acted on it…for a while, but then he disappeared, and I have no idea if he's back and planning to continue. For all I know, my time has been wasted." Shane spat the words with more vitriol than she realized. "He led me to believe he was a gentleman, but he didn't even give me the courtesy of an explanation. A gentleman doesn't do that!"

Eleanor sat down next to Shane and covered her hand with her own. Shane turned her attention to this sweet lady who didn't deserve how she'd just spoken to her. "I'm sorry, Eleanor, Oliver's inconsiderate behavior isn't your fault."

Shaking her head, Eleanor began. "Shane, I have known him for many years, and I can assure you there is no better gentleman than Oliver O'Toole."

"But…" Shane was about to state her case from the opposite point of view, but Eleanor put her hand in the air and squelched her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure when he returns he'll explain everything. I can't disclose the details of Oliver's current situation, but I can assure you that what he is doing is something he has needed to do for a very long time." Eleanor's expression conveyed that she had nothing else to say on the matter to Shane.

Forty-five minutes later, Shane left Eleanor's office feeling more confused than when she arrived. Was Eleanor trying to reassure her or prepare her for the inevitable? Shane's footsteps echoed off the walls of the empty hallway. At the end of it, she was faced with a decision. Turn left, and she would head out through the main lobby and be back on her way to Northglenn in a matter of minutes. Turn right, and she would end up at the DLO, where Oliver should be sitting behind his desk right now, working on another dead letter. But Oliver wasn't there. Eleanor had said as much. She turned left, wanting to clear her head of the flurry of thoughts that refused to leave her head.

Eleanor didn't have to say it. Shane was pretty sure she knew where Oliver was. What she didn't know and what Eleanor wouldn't confirm was what he was doing there. Was it what she feared? Was he spending his days taking long, leisurely walks down the Champs-Élysées hand in hand with his wife? Was he dancing the steps they'd learned together with her? Did he look in her eyes when he pulled her from a dip as he'd looked into hers? Shane's stomach roiled at the thought of it.

Shane couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness towards the mysterious, absent wife who'd disappeared to Paris without a trace. She disliked her without even knowing her name. Scarlett O'Hara came to mind – a woman who used her feminine charm to captivate men. Shane imagined Mrs. O'Toole doing the same thing to capture Oliver's heart and throwing child-like fits when her desires were not fulfilled. Shane couldn't fathom why this woman would disappear without any explanation or communication, leaving a shattered Oliver to put his life on hold while she went gallivanting around France. The only explanation was that she was a selfish person with no regard for her husband's feelings. She couldn't help but feel disappointed that Oliver didn't want more for himself. Couldn't he see he deserved more? After all, marriage was supposed to be a partnership – a pledge to support and care for each other. Shane knew Oliver felt very strongly about keeping the promises he'd made in his vows, and while she couldn't understand it, she respected his decision.

Yes, Oliver was a good man. But it was time she faced it. He was someone else's man, and he'd made his choice, and now he had to live with it, and she had to live with it, too.

Shane spent the next two weeks in the role of a lovesick teenager. Oliver was never far from her thoughts as she trudged through each day. She sat in her drab little cubicle, plugging away at her assignments and finding herself uncharacteristically making mistakes rather than finding them. She stared at her computer screen, unable to concentrate on bytes, scripts, and UIs. Instead, her mind drifted to vivid images of Oliver, the man she longed for, standing beneath the Eiffel Tower, arms wrapped around a faceless figment of her imagination.

As the second weekend approached, and Shane had consumed multiple pints of double fudge chocolate ice cream, she told herself she'd wasted enough time pining away for someone she couldn't have. She was determined to rally and decided that a jog around Washington Park on a cloudless Saturday morning seemed the perfect start. Doused in sunscreen and wearing her favorite pink running shorts and t-shirt, she took off. It was two miles to the park, and the sun was high in the sky by the time she arrived. With no clouds to block the sun's rays, her skin tingled, and her cheeks flushed from the heat. She slowed to a stop and leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees as she crouched down. She drew deep breaths to slow her racing heart that the cardio workout had pushed to its limit.

Standing slowly to full height, she looked around the park. She hadn't been here since the evening Kelly and Charlie were reunited on the bridge. Seeing the path that led there, she started walking. Reaching the bridge, she was grateful for the shade of large oak trees that stretched from bank to bank along the creek. A white, frothy cascade of water bubbled over a stack of rocks on one side of the creek. Closing her eyes, the noise of children playing and music from other parkgoers faded, and she focused on the tranquil sounds of the water. The slight breeze hit her skin, causing goose bumps to rise. As her pulse returned to normal and her breaths evened out, she felt a sense of calm and fell into a meditative state as she leaned on the bridge's rail.

"Ahem."

Shane's back straightened, and her muscles tensed. She refused to open her eyes. Surely, she was hearing things.

"Ahem."

Her eyes flew open, but she was slow to turn around, uncertain what had caught her attention. Her heart pounded like a bass drum in her chest. Her breath hitched as she took a deep inhale. "Oliver." Just saying his name made her legs tremble, and she grabbed the bridge rail. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't." Oliver stepped toward her but stopped when he saw her back up. "I often come here to think. I was as surprised to see you as you appear to be seeing me."

"When did you get back?" Her voice came out flat, though inside, every inch of her shook like a tree limb in a wind storm. Her fingers continued their white-knuckled hold on the rail.

"Last night." He kept his distance and remained still, his hands clasped behind his back. "I wanted to return in time for our dance lesson later today."

"Hmph!" The thread of relief that had flowed through Shane at seeing Oliver back safe and sound was replaced by ire two weeks in the making. "You can't be serious! After how you treated me, do you really expect me to jump back into your arms and start dancing?" She let go of the rail and planted her hands firmly on her hips, her fingers digging into the skin. "You have a lot of nerve, Oliver O'Toole. You took off for parts unknown without so much as a goodbye, let alone an explanation." Shane stormed past him without another word, dodging his attempt to stop her.

"Shane!" Oliver's voice rang out through the clearing.

Hearing her name on his lips stopped her. The touch of his fingers on her shoulder was her undoing. She twisted under the weight of his hand and slipped out from under his touch. She found herself at a height disadvantage without the heels she usually wore to work. She felt the warmth of his gaze looking down at her. She lifted her eyes to meet his and blinked back tears that were pooling. Her heart flipped under the intensity of his blue eyes, which crinkled in the corners. He cocked his head, one side of his mouth curling into a tiny smile that she had missed.

"I apologize for the circumstances surrounding my departure. It was uncharacteristically hasty of me, and if I could do things again, I would handle things much differently."

Oliver's apparent contrition began to diffuse Shane's anger, and with a deep breath, she managed to ask Oliver the question that had burned in her mind for the last two weeks. "Why did you leave so quickly?" She thought she knew the answer but wanted to hear it from Oliver's lips.

"Might we walk a bit and maybe find someplace to sit down?" Oliver ushered her ahead of him.

Shane was suddenly very conscious that she was in running attire, with hair up and no makeup. When she imagined reuniting with Oliver, it was certainly not like this. They came to a picnic table, and Oliver suggested they sit. Shane's shoulders hunched, and her fingers restlessly fidgeted in her lap as she sat across from Oliver.

"As you may recall, our last dance lesson got a bit…heated." He smiled as though that was an understatement. "I apologize if I let things get too…intimate. It was not my intention to put you in a compromising situation."

Knowing what she knew, guilt washed over Shane. "Oliver, I…"

Oliver held up his hand, essentially cutting off her words. "Please let me say what I want before I lose my nerve."

Shane acquiesced. "Continue."

During our dance," his voice dropped, "when I pulled you from that dip, I realized that feelings were stirred that were not keeping within the vows of my marriage."

Her cheeks flushed as she remembered the dip. The memory of it was etched in her mind, the scene playing vividly every night as she drifted off to sleep.

Oliver's gaze stayed fixed on Shane as he explained himself. There was an uncustomary waver to his voice. "Even after our first lesson with Ramon, I went home quite unsettled. You see, before I ever met you, I had gotten the name of a private investigator who could help me locate my wife. I saved it but never utilized his services…until after we started dancing together."

"Oliver, I'm sorry if I put you in an awkward situation." This conversation was not what Shane expected when she set out on her morning run.

"Shane, after a few lessons with you, I found his number, and the next morning, I called him. Just before that last lesson, I'd received a phone call from him to let me know he'd found Holly."

Shane cringed when she heard Oliver refer to his wife by her first name. It was easier to keep her tucked away in her imagination when she was just Mrs. O'Toole.

Oliver's eyes settled on hers. "When I pulled you out of that dip, all I could think of was what it would be like to kiss you." Oliver's discomfort was evident as he squirmed on the bench. "I am embarrassed to say I panicked, and when you stepped away, I left quickly rather than waiting for you."

Shane felt a sudden rush of excitement shoot down her spine when Oliver admitted he wanted to kiss her. At that moment, she realized their intense chemistry was mutual. She pulled her hands from under the table and set them on it.

"I left the next morning and flew to Paris to find Holly so I could do what I should have done long ago."

Shane searched his face for clues. "What did you do?"

Shane's eyes were fixed on Oliver as he slowly pulled his hands from under the table and gently covered hers. Tears blurred her vision, and a silent sob escaped her lips when she realized that the third finger on Oliver's left hand was empty. His wedding ring was gone. The realization hit her hard, and she was left with many questions, but she struggled to put them into words.

"When I saw her, I wasn't sure what to do or how I would react to seeing her again. I wondered if the feelings I initially found attractive would come flooding back and encourage me to try again."

Hearing that Oliver had contemplated a second chance with his wife shook Shane. Of course, he would consider it; he was, after all, a gentleman.

Oliver told her that his reunion with his wife, while necessary, was not well received. "She had no idea I was coming, and when she found me standing on her doorstep…well…let me say she was less than gracious."

"I'm sorry, Oliver." She may not have liked the idea of him going to see her, but he didn't deserve to be treated like that, especially by someone who had vowed to love him until death did she part.

Oliver's thumb brushed over Shane's knuckles, reawakening the swarm of butterflies that had been dormant for the last couple of weeks. "I'm not. Her reaction was what I needed to be able to firmly close the door to our relationship. I wanted to return much sooner, but I had to wait for the final paperwork to be signed."

"What paperwork?"

"Our divorce papers. Both parties have signed them, and they will be filed with the county of Denver district court first thing on Monday morning."

Shane watched Oliver closely, searching for any glimpse of regret, but didn't find any. "So what do we do now?"

Oliver got up from the picnic table and offered his hand to Shane. "I think we should get ready for our dance lesson. We have some catching up to do before the dance showcase."

Shane took Oliver's hand. "I'm not sure we'll be ready in time."

His eyes twinkled. "Oh, have a little faith, Ms. McInerney. After all, what did Mr. Rodriguez say? We have a natural rhythm."

With a chuckle, Shane felt her heart swell at hearing Oliver's infectious optimism. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for this unexpected turn of events.