From DLO to DLO

It seems Oliver was serious about Shane transferring to his DLO. But is she? If he can convince her to make the leap, then what? Will Shane embrace the opportunity to work in Oliver's DLO full-time? Will Shane's curiosity and persistence start to wear on Oliver? We know they have a connection, but now what? How will their relationship develop both professionally and personally as they spend their days working together and, hopefully, their evenings swinging together on Shane's porch? There are so many questions to be answered, and while we wait for TWO NEW MOVIES, I'm having some fun continuing my original alternate universe story: DLO or DLO?

Chapter 1

Unlike many people, Oliver O'Toole approached Monday mornings with great enthusiasm. It had always been his ambition to carry on the O'Toole tradition of working for the United States Postal Service, and he walked into the downtown branch every day, bringing with him over 100 years of family history. When he became the section leader for the Dead Letter Office, he knew he'd found the perfect fit and the place where he thought he could do some good. He loved his work and took immense pride in his team's ability to reunite people with what had been lost. The satisfying whoosh of the pneumatic tube propelling a lost letter back on the path to its rightful owner was usually his office's last contact with a missing piece of mail. But then Shane McInerney showed up at the Denver main branch and brought with her an insatiable curiosity that turned his department, his life, and his heart upside down. The sparkle in her blue eyes, along with the mischievous curl of her lips, could easily sway him, and he'd already found himself stepping outside the bounds of standard USPS protocol.

This Monday brought with it a heightened sense of anticipation. He had two significant tasks on today's calendar. First on the list was long-awaited and would immediately alter the course of his life. The other had the potential to steer him in a direction he never imagined himself going and could include as many twists and turns as the switchbacks of the nearby Rocky Mountains.

At 7:45 a.m., he promptly pulled his sleek Jag into a space in the parking garage. Picking up the oversized envelope from the passenger seat, he double-checked to ensure the necessary papers were inside. He folded the metal clasp to ensure a proper seal and got out of the car, noting its location from the sign on the oversized pillar. His eyes narrowed as he walked out from the dark shadows of the parking garage. His raised hand shielded his eyes until they adjusted to the morning sun.

After a brief walk to the Denver City and County building, he arrived just as carillon bells chimed the hour from the heights of the clock tower. Oliver, reaching into his pocket, pulled out his grandfather's watch. Gently releasing the clasp, the cover opened, and he noted that the time was 8 a.m. Despite its age, it was perfectly in sync with the chimes that echoed through the sounds of a busy Monday morning and signaled the start of a new workweek. He stopped at the foot of the imposing, grey stone steps that led to the magnificent example of neoclassical architecture. How long had it been since he'd ventured to this part of the city? When he was a boy, it wasn't Christmas without the tradition of coming downtown to see the holiday lights that lit up the building and stop at a street vendor for steaming cups of hot chocolate and bags of cinnamon-roasted almonds. He would dodge his parent's attempts to keep him by their sides as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd in search of a front-row spot to witness the spectacular Christmas lights being turned on for the season. It might be time to resurrect that tradition. Maybe he would bring Ms. McInerney to the lighting ceremony this Christmas, he thought.

His hand cramped as it clutched the envelope. Partway up the steps, he stopped. A sense of déjà vu settled over him, and he looked around. He was standing in the very spot where he and Holly had their one and only wedding photo taken. Much time had passed since that impulsive day when he accepted Holly's proposal and married her at the courthouse within a few hours.

Following their quick vows in front of a justice of the peace, Holly insisted they come here to have their picture taken on the steps of one of Denver's grandest buildings. He was so infatuated with his new wife that he would do anything to please her. If she had asked him to jump in the fountain in the middle of City Park, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. Marrying her was the most impetuous thing he'd ever done, and he had paid the price for throwing caution to the wind. Now, here he was, back in the spot where it all began, holding the papers that would end their marriage. While their union would legally be dissolved, the emotional pain and suffering of the last two years lingered and wasn't easily forgotten.

As he stood there, a woman with flaxen blonde hair caught his attention. Soft waves fell midway down her back, swaying as she rushed by him. His head twisted in her direction. Could it really be Ms. McInerney? That was unlikely. After all, what would she be doing in downtown Denver at this time of the day? The woman's perfume wafted behind her, and Oliver immediately knew it wasn't Shane. Shane's blend of earthy and floral notes combined for an enticing scent that he'd become all too familiar with during their dances together.

He wondered where she was. Right now. Most likely back in her office at the DLO in Northglenn, he imagined. A spark of intrigue had flashed in her eyes when he planted the seed for her to consider relocating from her DLO to his. That flicker gave him hope that she might seriously consider it. Maybe he needed to do some further convincing. The prospect of seeing her every day, working alongside her, sent a wave of nervous energy surging through him. Those same nerves had him second-guessing his idea, wondering if he was, again, acting on impulse.

People continued moving by him. With each passing moment, the bustling crowd grew louder and more hurried. Despite the commotion, he remained fixed, lost in thought. He found she filled his thoughts more and more frequently. What would it be like to walk into the DLO every day to see her tapping away on her laptop only to raise her head and meet his gaze with a "Good morning, Oliver" as he walked past her? Would he struggle to maintain a professional distance working alongside her every day? Or would working in such proximity have the opposite effect? Would he tire of her outspokenness? Would her penchant for taking risks and pushing boundaries grow wearisome? What then? He didn't want the burden of responsibility for bringing her into his DLO should it, for some reason, not work out.

The envelope in Oliver's hand was sent flying as someone lost in their phone and unaware of their surroundings barreled into him. His quick movement retrieved it before anyone could step on it. The whole interaction reaffirmed Oliver's choice not to carry one of those electronic devices that consumed people and chipped away at human interaction. But Ms. McInerney was of that world. How would her love of all things digital blend with his archaic lifestyle? It was questions like these that gave him pause. He hadn't even finalized the end of one relationship, and he was already contemplating issues that could sink another. One thing at a time, O'Toole.

Oliver's footsteps joined dozens of others as they each went their way, their shoes clicking across the pristine travertine floor of the entrance lobby. He let out an audible "Ugh," and his head shook in disappointment when he saw the unsightly monolith in the middle of the elegant space, garishly flashing a series of office names and numbers. Oliver narrowed his eyes and studied the screen, looking for the specific office he needed. Quickly ascending the stairs to the second floor, he looked for room 256, the filing department. After carefully checking the envelope's contents to ensure they were in order, he handed it over to the clerk. Given the road he'd been on to get to this point, it all seemed somewhat anti-climactic. A sense of finality washed over him – there was no going back. It wasn't that he wanted to go back. He just never imagined himself with the title of divorcé.

As Oliver walked out of the building, he stood at the top of the steps overlooking City Park and across the street from the gold-domed State Capital. A fresh breeze blew past, ruffling his hair, and he filled his lungs with a deep inhale of fresh summer air. As he exhaled, the corners of his mouth slowly lifted upwards, forming a gentle curve that stretched into a soft smile. His shoulders lifted also, the weight of his circumstance gone, replaced by a newfound sense of calm. For two years, he had been confined to a life he had not chosen but felt helpless to free himself from. Now, he was no longer tethered to his wayward wife, and it was liberating. It was time to embrace a new chapter in his life.

The short drive to the USPS main branch didn't give Oliver much time to contemplate his next steps regarding Ms. McInerney. As he walked through processing, the cacophony of sounds created by forklifts, conveyor belts, and people shouting to be heard over the noise, usually music to his ears, was on mute today. He felt the energy around him but was so entrenched in his thoughts that none of it registered. He moved quickly through the commotion, dodging carts of mail, but instead of going to the DLO, he headed for the person he trusted to help guide his decision-making.

Knocking softly so as not to startle her, Eleanor's warbling voice invited Oliver into her cozy inner sanctum. Files occupied nearly every surface. A blender sat atop a miniature refrigerator not unlike his own, though hers was a slightly newer model. Even though Eleanor's disorganized and chaotic office starkly contrasted with his own meticulously ordered one, there was a certain warmth and charm to her space. It drew him in and made him feel oddly at ease.

"Oliver! It is good to see you. Congratulations on your success at the dance showcase." Eleanor's eyes twinkled with a playful glint that hinted there was more she wanted to say. "You and Shane make quite the couple."

Oliver felt a sudden surge of warmth creeping up his neck and spreading toward his cheeks, causing him to tug at his shirt collar in discomfort. He hastily reached for his tie, loosening it, and shifted uncomfortably in the creaky wooden captain's chair positioned directly across from Eleanor's. "We had an excellent, though peculiar, instructor, and I cannot deny Ms. McInerney is very graceful."

"Uh-huh. And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Come on, Oliver. How long have we known each other?" Eleanor's eye-roll at his attempted ignorance was apparent.

Oliver's head tilted, thinking for a moment. "Uh, 15, 16 years?"

"Yes, and I've seen you experience a lot in that time, and I don't recall ever seeing you as happy as you were Friday night." Eleanor picked up her coffee mug and filled it from her Mr. Coffee. Grabbing another, she filled one for Oliver. Setting it down in front of him, she fixated her gaze on his face. "It was impossible to miss how positively glowing you were when you took your bow."

A smile tugged at his lips. He didn't know what to say. Yes, he did. "It has been a long time since I've allowed myself to be happy." His eyes blurred as he felt the regret of time wasted. He blinked, thankful that this season of life was behind him and he'd been reborn into the land of the living.

"I thought so," Eleanor said with a twinkle in her eyes. "So, what's next for the two of you?"

"Next?"

"Oh, come on. You know what I mean."

Oliver smiled. Yes, he knew Eleanor. She was both intuitive and persistent. "Well, that's what I stopped by to discuss with you."

"And, what's that?"

"I am considering having Ms. McInerney transferred to the DLO as our technical systems support."

Eleanor chuckled. "Hmmm, interesting idea. Is that your way of admitting you need technological assistance without having to learn it yourself?"

"Ah, well, it was brought to my attention that there could be an opportunity to increase the efficiency of the DLO by integrating technology into our process of delivering undeliverable letters to their intended recipients." He had disregarded Ms. McInerney's repeated attempts to plead her case. It wasn't until Oliver saw her in action that he was struck by how quickly she was able to gather important information that was valuable in their quest.

"Do you think she's open to the idea?"

"Possibly. I mentioned it to her, and she didn't balk at the idea." He smiled, remembering how satisfying it was to see her jaw drop in surprise at his suggestion. The flicker of curiosity that sparked in her eyes gave him hope. "She said I'd given her something to think about."

"And when do you expect an answer?"

"I'm not sure. I just asked suggested her Saturday night."

"Saturday?"

"Yes, we had dinner together."

Eleanor's red-painted lips curled mischievously. She directed her gaze toward Oliver and asked, "Do you want Shane in your department because of her skills or for more…personal reasons?"

Oliver tugged on his ear lobe, sure it was a shade of red that could rival a matador's cape. He wasn't quite sure how to answer that question.

Eleanor started fidgeting with the papers on her desk, a sign Oliver had learned that she was done with the conversation. "Well, why don't you start by finding out if she even wants the job?"

Oliver rose. Eleanor had done precisely as he'd expected her to. She cut through his thoughts and gave him the direction he needed. "Yes, I supposed that would be the best place to start. Thank you, Eleanor, for your wise counsel."

"Good luck, Oliver."

###

The Northglenn office of Direct Line Operations bore no resemblance to the USPS in downtown Denver. It was a much newer and more modern building than his, and it lacked any of the qualities that could identify it as part of the US postal system. Oliver strode down the blue-carpeted hallway on the third floor until he came to the door labeled USPS Direct Line Operations. He hesitated before entering, anxious about how Shane would react to seeing him there. He expected a receptionist, but instead, he walked into an expansive space. Light filtered in from a wall of windows mostly concealed by dark window coverings. The ceiling lights looked like they were on half-power, casting a dim glow over the space.

It took his eyes a few moments to adjust. The white noise created by a room full of clacking keyboards was oddly soothing, disturbed only by the occasional beep popping up at random like grasshoppers on a spring sidewalk. He stood awkwardly as he scanned the room, expecting to find her quickly. The maze of cubicles made that problematic, and his eyes glazed over as he searched for her familiar blonde hair.

A man roughly his age, pale-skinned and paunchy, approached. Oliver felt overdressed and out of place in his suit and suspenders next to his casual chinos and button-down. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you may. I am Oliver O'Toole. I'm with…"

"The dead letter office at the main branch."

Oliver's head bobbed. "Yes." He studied the man, wondering how he knew who he was and where he worked. Had they met at some point? "Excuse me, have we met?"

"I don't think so. I'm Carl. I am the section leader for Direct Line Operations." He stood, hands on hips, surveying the work going on in his department. "Your reputation precedes you."

Oliver bristled, not sure how to interpret his comment. "How so?"

"It's all good," he chuckled. "I warned Shane when she took the training assignment at the main branch that you might be a hard nut to crack."

With furrowed eyebrows, Oliver asked, "Ah, well, yes. I'm not sure she was able to 'crack' me, but it was not for lack of trying. I will say she is persistent."

Carl laughed. "Yes, she is. That's why I gave her the assignment in the first place. She hadn't been here long, but from day one, I could see that she was driven and not one to shy away from a challenge. She doesn't let people or the job intimidate her."

Oliver listened intently to Carl and agreed with everything he said. Their brief interaction revealed that Carl trusted Shane's capabilities. As he pondered whether he would be able to persuade Ms. McInerney to transfer, Oliver knew that gaining Carl's approval would be essential to his success.

"Carl, might I have a few minutes of your time?"

###

As Oliver emerged from Carl's office, his mind was preoccupied with their discussion. Lost in thought, he failed to notice someone standing in his path until it was too late. They collided, and he felt a jolt of surprise, leaving him momentarily stunned. He immediately began apologizing for his clumsiness but quickly caught a whiff of a familiar scent and realized who it was. A rush of adrenaline coursed through him, and his legs wobbled either from their physical encounter or being so close to her. He'd been thinking of her all morning, and now here she was in front of him. His heart skipped a beat as he tried to piece together a cohesive thought.

"Ms. McInerney!" Oliver lifted his eyes and met hers. "Oh my goodness, please forgive me for my clumsiness."

He felt her hand close around his arm. He was keenly aware of her attempt to steady herself, and he reached out to grab her other arm. They stood facing each other, her mouth slightly agape, as if she, too, was taken aback by the sudden impact. Once he was sure she had her balance, he released his hold on her. To his surprise, she held on, her fingers tightly gripping his sleeve.

Slowly, she removed her hand and asked, "Oliver, what are you doing here?"

Oliver smoothed his tie and tugged the hem of his suit jacket. Oliver's jaw tensed, and he struggled with his words: "Ms. McInerney, what a pleasure to, ah, bump into you."

Shane nodded and returned his greeting with one of her smiles that made his heart skip a beat. He couldn't help but feel a bit nervous, wondering how she would react to what he had in mind.

"I didn't expect to see you here. Is there something you need?" She leaned in, her face close enough to his that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "Don't tell me you're finally giving in and letting me train your team."

Oliver saw the gleam in her eyes. Was there something he needed? Yes, there was, but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. His expression softened, "Ms. McInerney. I was wondering if you might have lunch with me."