Olivia sat in a chair at Mandy’s desk in the post office enjoying a short break. Bent over the blotter, she painted a dog’s face on her thumbnail with a toothpick. She didn’t like working at the post office. It wreaked havoc with her nails, and the uniforms might just as well have been paper bags. Plus Mandy liked to leave the rolling door open at the loading dock, which meant she didn’t run the air conditioner, which meant it was hot, which meant Mandy’s loud country music was more annoying than usual.
“Ha-looo.” A man’s voice rose above a country song about a cheating woman.
Olivia’s head came up.
Because that voice...
It wasn’t a gravelly, old man’s voice like Utley’s. It was strong and clear and deep. And it was coming from the customer counter.
Mandy was stacking tubs of mail on a dolly in the truck. She didn’t seem to hear anything, but then again she had the music on loud.
“Anybody home? Cualquiera casa?”
Olivia crossed the room and peeked around the corner.
It was a dude. A tall dude with wind-tousled dark hair and scruffy whiskers on his chin. He looked like a broke college student. His arms were tan, and his grin made up for his stained T-shirt.
In this town full of old people and little kids, he was the first person she’d seen who was about her age. And he was cute. She, on the other hand, had yet to regain muscle after two rounds of chemo, and she wore one of Mandy’s postal shirts, which was so long it was almost a minidress.
“Hey,” the dude said to her, still grinning.
“Hey,” Olivia replied, striving for cool, but sounding like a water-deprived bullfrog.
He waved an envelope. “I need stamps.”
“Just a minute.” Olivia pulled back around the corner and pressed her back to the glass partition, heart pounding.
Mandy wheeled the dolly across the loading dock and inside. “What’s wrong?”
Customer, Olivia mouthed.
Mandy turned her music off, hurried into the customer service area and sold Mr. Tall-and-Cute a book of stamps. She was all cool and stuff, but it was her job to be nice to people.
The delivery driver closed and locked the back of the truck and took off.
“Hey, uh.” The dude lowered his voice, but not enough that Olivia couldn’t hear him. “I hope I didn’t say anything to hurt her feelings.”
Mortified, Olivia sank to the floor, covering her mouth.
“Who? Olivia?” Mandy gave a fake chuckle. “She’s just shy.” And then she thanked him for coming in, stepped back into the mail room and helped Olivia to her feet.
“I’m shy?” Olivia said angrily. “Why did you say that?”
“I could have said you were crushing on him.” Mandy grinned.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Anything but that.”
“Anything but that and she’s shy.” Mandy took a plastic tub from the dolly and set it on the counter. “What should I have said?”
“She’s busy or she had a phone call or—”
“You’re not busy, and you weren’t on the phone. A cute guy came in and you panicked. Get over it. There are a lot of cute guys in the world.”
“But not in Harmony Valley.” Olivia closed her eyes and did the slow, deep breathing she’d been taught to use when she was stressed or scared or wanted to kill her sister. “At least tell me his name.”
“I don’t know his name.”
Olivia tossed her hands, belatedly noticing she’d smudged the dog she’d painted on her thumb. “What happened to small towns and everybody knowing everyone else’s name?”
“I was too busy trying not to laugh because my sister was hiding behind a glass wall.” She tapped the glass with her knuckle. “He could see you standing there.”
Olivia knew better than to wish she could die. But she wished life didn’t suck so much.
A little blonde girl with black rectangular glasses rode up to the loading dock on a pink bike with purple tassels hanging from the handlebars. A small pink shoe bag hung from her shoulders by black corded straps. “I’m looking for a raccoon.” She didn’t look big enough to tangle with a kitten, much less a raccoon. But she did have a bruise on her forehead and some scabs on the inside of her knees, indicating she was no fussy princess. “My grandpa said you have one.”
“Just a minute, Hannah.” Mandy leaned in to whisper, “I know this kid. I’ve got stuff to do before the electrician gets here. Why don’t you entertain our guest and keep her away from Riley.” Not a question. And she didn’t wait for an answer. Mandy went back to unloading her boxes.
Olivia approached the edge of the dock, standing in the sun where it was hot. “What do you need a raccoon for?”
“I don’t need him.” She scowled from three feet beneath her. “He needs me.”
“Hannah!” A woman with blond hair and mom jean shorts pedaled a bike around the corner. “There you are. Wait for me.”
“Oh, man.” Hannah scuffed her sneaker on the concrete. “Granny found me.”
Olivia hopped to the pavement next to Hannah, ready to take hold of the handlebars if necessary to stop her from fleeing her grandmother. “Are you running away from home?”
“No.” Hannah pushed her glasses up her nose. “I’m rescuing animals.”
“Hannah.” Hannah’s grandmother pumped her way into the parking lot and stopped, panting. She was the put-together, defy-my-age type of grandmother. She didn’t have gray hair. She wore conservative, skillfully applied makeup and had flat-ironed short hair. “What did we talk about? No sneaking off when I’m taking a nap.” She smiled at Olivia, an expression as worn out as her coral lipstick. “I heard the screen latch and came after her, but she’s too quick. I had to stop twice and ask if anyone had seen her.”
The little girl sighed. “There was an emergency situation. I left you a note.”
“This note?” Hannah’s grandmother pulled a crumpled scrap of paper from inside her bra. “It says, I’m gone. Don’t worry. Gone where? Doing what? I’ve ridden all over town, and all I’ve done is worry. The last time you snuck out you nearly drowned in the river.”
“I didn’t fall in the river. I didn’t even get wet.” Hannah gazed up at Olivia, seeking someone on her side. “I left her a note.”
“As a runner myself...” Olivia had gone through a phase where she couldn’t stand to be at home. Although she could always be found at the corner coffee shop. “...you have to write better notes and be clear about where you’re going if you don’t want people to panic.”
“Forget notes. You need to wake me up and ask permission.” Hannah’s grandmother finally seemed to have caught her breath and her composure. Introductions were exchanged. “Are you the postmaster?”
“No. That’s my sister, Mandy.” Olivia tugged on her blue striped postal shirt. “I’m the part-time help.”
“Part-time.” Vanessa grinned like she’d just won the lottery. “Would you like to earn extra money and babysit for me? Are you available in the afternoons?”
Olivia was being offered a job where no uniform was required?
She bobbed her head. “I’d love to hang out with Hannah.” They could listen to music while Olivia did Hannah’s nails. “Would you like that?” she asked the little girl.
After looking Olivia up and down, Hannah grumbled, “Okay. But only if we can continue my work.”
“Your work?” Caution slowed Olivia’s words.
“My work.” Hannah nodded, as solemn as Dr. Abadie when he’d refused daily testing. “Rescuing animals.” She slung her pink shoe bag off her shoulder and dug inside, producing a small tissue. “Here. I think you’re getting a nosebleed.”
Olivia touched her nostrils with tentative fingers. Her thumb came away bloody. Panic pulsed through Olivia’s veins like a f
ast dance beat at a late-night rave. She grabbed Hannah’s tissue and squeezed her nose with it. “Mandy?” This was how they’d found out she had cancer. Frequent nosebleeds that wouldn’t stop. “Mandy?”
Mandy appeared above her on the dock. “Oh, dear. Slow breaths. Sit on the steps. I’ll get you another tissue.”
Olivia perched on a middle step. The sun-warmed concrete was almost butt-burning. “Call Dr. Abadie.”
“Are you dying?” Hannah asked.
“She’s not dying,” Mandy yelled before Olivia could answer. “Nosebleeds can be caused by hot dry air or growth spurts.”
Vanessa had moved closer to the steps, but not to look at Olivia. She watched Mandy.
Meanwhile, Hannah had moved into Olivia’s space and gawked at her face. “You look like you’re dying.”
“She’s not dying,” Mandy yelled again.
She was dying. The nosebleed proved it. Olivia wanted to release her nose and check how much blood was on the tissue, but Mandy was a mind reader.
“It’s too early to check your nose,” her sister said, returning to the dock with a tissue and a bottle of water. “Be patient. Pinch-pinch-pinch. Panic never did anyone any good.”
“Maybe she’s right.” Hannah laid her little hand on Olivia’s knee. “Maybe you’re not going to die...today.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE TROUBLE WITH having an epiphany was knowing what to do with it.
While talking to Mandy in the wee hours of the morning, Ben had realized his father didn’t want to be babied. But how could Ben not baby him? The man operated on 100 percent mode when in fact he was closer to 50 percent functionality with a risk of system failure.
“Excuse me.”
Ben looked down from the ladder controls on the rear of the fire engine. He’d been testing the hydraulics on the bucket.
The woman with short purplish-gray hair who’d greeted him effusively at the town square kitten rescue waved. “Could you help me?”
“Sure.” Ben climbed down.
“I’m Eunice.” She was wearing that neon pink tracksuit again and lime-green sneakers. “I’m stuck. I’ve tried everything.” She batted eyelashes thick with mascara.
Ben headed inside. “I’ll get the first aid kit for some eyewash.” Because she wouldn’t be making googly eyes if she didn’t have something stuck in one.
“That’s interesting.” Eunice kept up with him. “I didn’t realize eyewash could be used on splinters.”
Ben led her to the common area, which had a small L-shaped kitchen, an old blue recliner, a pea-green microfiber couch and a card table surrounded by four brown metal folding chairs. “Eyewash works on anything stuck in your eye. Have a seat at the table.” He opened the med kit in the pantry.
“That explains it.” Eunice sat on a folding chair, which made the usual folding chair creaky complaints and tinny noises. “I have no need for eyewash. The sliver is in my hand.”
Ben turned to look at her. She was still sending Morse code with her eyelids. “Nothing’s in your eye?”
“Can’t you tell?” She swiveled one shoulder forward and tilted her chin over it. “My eyes are perfect.”
In his dozen years as a firefighter, Ben had seen his share of characters. None had left him speechless.
He put the eyewash back in the pantry med kit and went to a smaller first aid kit he kept stored over the sink. And then he sat next to her at the table with a pair of tweezers and a bandage.
“Normally, I’d ask Duffy or Jessica to tend to my mishaps.” She gave him her hand. She had a small red bump on her finger with a short black sliver visible beneath the skin. “But they’re at work and you were just down the block.” Her flowery perfume was too strong, but he supposed it was balanced by all that mascara. “Word on the street says you’re single.”
Ben hadn’t been born yesterday. There was more than medical care being sought here. “This is going to pinch.”
“I’m made of tough stuff.” But she looked away with less blinking and steadied her breathing. “Have at it.”
“How did you get this?”
“I’m cutting back bougainvillea. Darn thorns cut right through my gloves.” She drew a sharp intake of breath when he pinched her skin. “Is your father here? Is he down with the flu? I saw him leaning against a building before he inspected Mae’s Pretty Things. I thought he might lose his cookies. There’s a bug going around.”
Ben mumbled something about bad sushi, resenting the fact that he had to lie.
It took some digging, but Ben got the sliver out. He wrapped her finger in a small bandage. “All done.”
“My hero.” She patted his cheek. “I’ll bring you a casserole later. My specialty. Ham, hollandaise and banana.”
“Oh.” Ben’s eyes opened as wide as Eunice’s. He got to his feet, realizing he might have hurt her feelings. “I mean... Oh. Don’t go to any trouble. I’m eating at my mother’s place.”
“Oh.” Eunice stood, making the chair protest once more. “Is that wise? For a bachelor, I mean. I’d heard men living with their mothers was a deal breaker for single women.” She stared up at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to defend his manliness.
Ben took her by the arm and steered her toward the street. “You may have heard that I moved to town with my goddaughter. My mom helps watch her when I’m on call. It’s the best arrangement for Hannah.”
“That’s an excellent answer.” Eunice smiled and batted her eyes. “That should be one of your early talking points on a first-meet.”
“A...a what?”
“You know.” Eunice nudged him with her elbow, which was small and bony and slid into a tickle point at his ribs. “When you meet a woman and you’re telling her about yourself. Start with fireman, because that’s got huge appeal. Talk about your godchild, because parenting skills are a bonus. And then maybe just stop talking and look... I don’t know.” She studied his face.
He was trying not to scowl and not succeeding.
“Yes, look brooding. Like that!” She waved and went on her way.
Ben swept the driveway, stewing over the bad advice Eunice had offered. He wouldn’t be interested in any woman who was looking to marry a fireman. And since he wasn’t interested in having kids, the parenting angle seemed like false advertising. And the scowl? Few women wanted to deal with his intensity level.
It didn’t faze Mandy.
Mandy was a different breed of woman. He suspected her patience came from a natural tendency to nurture—her grandfather, her sister, Elvira. Her lack of makeup and casual ponytails suggested she might be a wallflower, not strong enough to speak her mind. She had no such hang-up. In fact, she was grittier and more talkative in the morning before her first cup of coffee than she was at night under the full moon.
Thinking of Mandy reminded him about his epiphany and the need to talk to his father about more realistic expectations of his job performance. He locked up the fire station and made the short walk to the house.
It took him a few minutes to locate any family member. No one seemed to be home, until he got to the garage and found Dad.
His old man was dozing in an anti-gravity chair. He wore an oxygen mask. Except instead of being connected to an oxygen tank, the mask was connected to some kind of humidifier and the room smelled like minty eucalyptus.
“What’s all this?” It didn’t look like Dad was on call.
His father pushed himself upright and pulled the mask away from his face. “It’s a new breathing treatment your mother wants me to try,” he said, half yawning.
With his mask off, the smell of mint increased, as did the humidity level in the room.
“How long do you need to sit there?” His wearing a mask didn’t seem conducive to Ben’s planned father-son chat.
“An hour. Longer if we don’t have a call.” Dad checked his watch. “Forty-five more minutes. Thought I’d watch Mike’s softball game. Lisa taped it.”
Ben’s jaw worked as he struggled not to break eggs. In addition to being a fine firefighter, his brother, Mike, was also an outstanding athlete. Dad enjoyed watching him play.
It was close to noon, which must mean Dad had slept all morning and hadn’t checked on Ben once. Not exactly the best sign for an active-duty fireman, much less a fire chief.
Ben took off his firefighter hat and put on his doting-son helmet. “Is the treatment working?” Might be wishful thinking on Ben’s part, but Dad sounded more robust. Robust was good.
“I’m not coughing.” In fact, Dad wasn’t even wheezing. “I’ll finish my hour and head over to the fire station.” He fitted the clear mask over his nose and mouth, only to remove it again. “Did you need something?”
“No.” Their talk could wait. Who knew how long they had before their next call?
Ben left the garage and entered the house via the kitchen. He paused in the foyer. The fire chief sat in the garage while his pager and cell phone sat on the hall table. Firefighters on call didn’t leave their devices farther than an arm’s reach away.
Dad might want to be treated as if he was able-bodied, but his actions said something else entirely.
Ben ground his teeth, took two steps back to the garage, and then returned to the hall table, staring down at his reality. This was what he’d signed up for.
He could only hope Dad grew stronger and time flew.
* * *
“MANDY?” THE BLONDE woman with Hannah looked less harried than she had outside Elvira’s house the day before. She stood at the top of the loading dock stairs.
“That’s me.” Mandy had been alternating between answering email and searching for large rubber bands while Olivia took care of Hannah. She rubber-banded a handful of mail destined for Main Street, the last bundle before she started the delivery. “Can I help you?”
Love, Special Delivery Page 11
