Okay, I am all chocolated up.
Let me explain Dale. Dale the soprano. Dale the police officer. Dale the red head. Lovely old friend Dale. Dale who gets a hug as a greeting. Dale who knows her ducks from her geese. Perfect Dale. Clever Dale, who could profile our postal thief. Despite my terror at the thought of Dale, I have to admit she is good at her job. And she knows Latin.
On the possibly positive side, Oliver never told Dale about his 'Dark of Night' award. I am sure that must mean something. Was he feeling humble? Was he embarrassed he had to share it with the rest of us? And how did Oliver not know his father received an award too? I know they were estranged, but surely that kind of post office gossip would have made it Oliver's way?
Upon our return, we learned that Nicki had gifted her ex-boyfriend with a $50 000 lottery ticket. That poor girl! Not only did she lose the love of her life (or who she thought was the love of her life), but also she lost a lot of money. Speaking of losing money, I was beginning to have my doubts about Bob (Nicki would later prove me right). Rita is the most trusting soul on the planet. I would say that Norman will need to look out for that, but I worry he is the second most trusting soul on the planet. Maybe his jealous insecurity will help?
Norman and Rita continued to cajole Nicki into providing a workable sketch through the liberal application of smoothies, Oliver went to see if his father had any insights to share, and I pretended to look busy while wondering what Oliver meant when he said, 'One should never regret an act of love.' Who was that in reference to? Holly? His mother? Dale?
One thing is certain. Lester is indeed an idiot.
Joseph O'Toole, that dark of night dark horse, ended up being the means of resolving the whole mail thief identity debacle. He recognized Dudley Curley as the man Nicki saw, and led us to him. Unfortunately, we had to take Lester with us.
Lester is one of those men who thinks that he has the right to be in charge, perhaps just because he failed his way up into a security position, but most likely because of an over-inflated sense of his own relevance. As my Granny used to say, 'He wouldn't have enough brains to pour water out of a boot!' If left unattended, I would give the survival of the USPS in Lester's hands until this Thursday! Mr. Curley (our mail borrower) seemed like a much more reasonable person than Lester. That isn't hard I suppose. Just in case things did go south, I called Dale. Great! I actually created the situation where Oliver and Dale got to spend more time together! I did take a little desperate comfort in the fact that Oliver didn't know Dale's lunch order. I know – straws and clutching for sure. I wonder what corned beef and chicken salad tastes like as a combination? I am not going to find out.
I admit it. Dale being there helped. Norman up a tree helped. Joe being around helped. Oliver, being selfless and committed to his father (and the post office) helped. My ability to get lunch helped. Lester, did not help. Thankfully, Mr. Curley gave back the mail, and invited all of us (including Dale) to his retirement party. I am working my way up to that – possibly the greatest party ever!
After everything was sorted, I went home. I admit, I was a little reluctant to attend Dudley's party. I was afraid of what I was going to see. Would Oliver be there with Dale? Was I about to watch my hopes go down in flames like some mail almost did today? I was in no hurry to get to the party. I kept finding things to do rather than readying myself to go out. I did some aggressive tweeting, I rearranged the things on my coffee table, I took an unreasonably long shower, spent more time than I needed choosing an outfit, and too long doing my hair (even though I have to say the result was pretty epic). Eventually, I had no more delaying tactics left. I made my way out of the door and stood sighing on the front porch like an overly melodramatic Southern belle. It was then that I saw it.
Somehow, against all expectations or hope, a fragile but perfect bud had emerged on my rose cutting. No, it was more than a cutting. It was a little shrub of hope, a blossom of potential! But did I dare hope? Was it a sign? Or had something if fact died and provided much needed fertilizer? I decided it was the courage I needed. I cut that little beauty and added it to my already great hair. (Okay, I know I am going on about my hair, but sometimes a girl needs a little armour).
Unfashionably late, I made it to the Mailbox Grille. The first thing I saw? Oliver talking to Dale. Oh, happy day. My heart somewhere below my feet, I decided to find someone to talk to. Naomi from Shipping is a lovely person. She is one of those calm and undemanding conversationalists that puts you at your ease. I needed that. (I have to remember to apologise to her when I see her tomorrow – I kind of abandoned her.)
Somehow, without noticing, Oliver was no longer talking to Dale, and was right in front of me, extending a hand. I thought we might dance, but apparently not. Oliver wanted to talk. In true Oliver fashion, he prevaricated over lemon cake, but eventually go to the point. I am going to invest in a stationery shop that sells nothing but calendars – all of which will have today's date, and next Saturday's circled in…yellow! Oliver asked me out, again! He called it a date! I admit, I almost danced, all by myself. A happy little jig of glee. Being a mature woman, I restrained…barely.
Instead, I decided I had to share with Oliver my wonderous news. Completely flummoxed over my hair, I decided to go a little easy on Oliver, and share the surprise of my miraculous rose. I couldn't resist a little tease about dead pets, I mean, comedy gold like that should next be passed up, but really, I just wanted to share my own hope and joy. My rose was alive, and Oliver O'Toole asked me out on a date! The world really was wonderful.
I dragged Oliver over to where Rita, Joe and Dale were, dancing. (Well, Dale and Joe were dancing, and Rita was possibly having some kind of out of body experience?) I did go easy on Oliver, only making him dance in public for a short amount of time. I knew there was only so much that the very proper Mr. O'Toole would think was appropriate, and I had probably reached that quickly. I also thought I might need to save people from bodily harm if they came in range of Rita and her unruly limbs.
Before the night was over, I found myself in conversation with Mr. O'Toole. I admit, I may have had a slight preference for conversing with the younger one, but Joe is a pretty great guy too. He wanted to thank me for giving him some kind of chance at a relationship with Oliver. He admitted that it was still pretty tenuous, but it was the closest that they had been for years. I couldn't hold back a few tears. It must be something about O'Tooles. I barely know Joe, but feel like I can tell him anything. I gave him a brief description of my own fractured relationship with my mother (I mean, I had a pretty fractured relationship with my dad too, but my mother seemed the most relevant at the moment). I told him that I loved her, but sometimes we needed a little space. It saved us from saying things that we didn't mean, but would definitely hurt. He seemed to get what I was saying. I hope that he and Oliver get to the place where they can build their relationship again soon.
The younger Mr. O'Toole? He was never too far away for the rest of the night, but we didn't get too close. Bull-in-a-china-shop Shane took a back seat to calm and cautious Shane. At the end of the night, Oliver asked if he could escort me to my car, and I happily agreed. It was a short, quiet walk, but I did seem like progress. I mean, he did call me Shane!
P.S. We are going to work on Oliver giving compliments. My hair was more than fine!