by Tonya Kappes
I always gave a little extra time for my street because I knew the Front Porch Ladies—the few houses between my house and Mac Tabor’s house, where the widows of the community loved to gather on each other’s porches, or even just holler between porches. But they always loved to chitchat and try to quiz me on various pieces of mail others had gotten. Plus, they were big in the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, and they knew exactly what time of the month their manila envelope came.
Bless their hearts, I’d tried to tell them a million times how half the other residents of Sugar Creek Gap were also holding their breaths for the sweepstakes van, balloons, flowers, and the big check to show up at their house, and how they were wasting their money on the various magazine subscriptions and whatever else they had to buy in order to enter, as well.
They’d roll their eyes and believed one of them was gonna be the big winner. I’d learned to keep my mouth shut.
After I finished my second loop, I’d sometimes grab Buster and take him on my third loop, which was my biggest. There was a large neighborhood that was located behind the old mill wheel and the courthouse. It was one of those neighborhoods where there was one house after the other. Not cheap houses either. It was a sought-out neighborhood because it was convenient to downtown and the high school, not to mention the fancy country club attached to the subdivision.
There were so many dirty little secrets back there that I felt like I was walking into a soap opera on my third loop. People didn’t realize just how much your mail carrier can tell about you by delivering your mail.
Since the subdivision was right behind the post office as well, it was easiest to make it my final destination, drop off any mail that wasn’t able to be delivered at the post office, cross Main Street, slip over one of the few bridges that connected Little Creek Road to Main Street, and I was home.
Briefly, I stopped to listen to the sound of the babbling brook swimming across the rocks as the old mill pushed the water down the creek. It was a daily ritual that I loved. I think it was more soothing to my aching muscles than the yoga class. I hoisted my bag up on my shoulder and crossed the street.
Social Knitwork was my first stop. It was easy to simply head into the yarn shop, drop any mail in the basket Loetta Goldey left on the counter, and grab anything she had stamped. Most of the time, I delivered the mail around the same time, and she was always teaching some sort of craft class.
Once I’d gotten the big idea from the Front Porch Ladies to take a knitting class. It turned out that I should never listen to the Front Porch Ladies.
The next stop was Tranquility Wellness. I knew I didn’t have to worry about seeing Peaches because she had a standing hot yoga class every day at this time. Thank goodness my class was every other night because I’m sure I’d not be walking if it was daily.
Peaches Partin was a brilliant business owner. She knew when she opened the spa that her clients wanted to feel pampered and relaxed. There was a correlation between the brain and the smell, or so she claimed after I’d once asked her about the amazing smell that not only filled her shop but flowed outside, spilling into the open air.
“You smell that?” she had asked me with big bright eyes the first day she’d opened. “That’s a big smiley.” I could recall how her mouth spread across her face in a huge smile. But it was the big deep breath she had me take that made me feel so calm. “That.” She’d pointed her finger at me. “That calm feeling is because of the fresh tropical, lavender scent I purposely have pumped through the ventilation that makes you all calm and relaxed.”
I’ll never forget how amazed I was that you could pump any smell you wanted through a ventilation.
I loved delivering the mail. I had my routine with every shop. Tranquility Wellness was one of my favorites since no one was in the reception area. I was able to step inside, take a few deep cleansing breaths of that fabulous smell, and it was like a reset to my brain.
Just like every morning, I took a big deep breath, curled my hand around the handle, and opened the door, ready to finish off the inhale with a nose full of calm.
“I’m telling you to get out!” Peaches’s long red braid was pulled around her shoulder and dangled down past her chest. The light-blue one-piece yoga outfit had a shimmery sheen to it. “I’ll call the sheriff,” she warned the similarly built brunette.
“You can’t just kick out a customer. I’ve paid up a full year.” The young woman was standing her ground. “I’m going in there to do hot yoga, so call the sheriff.” Her voice was much calmer than Peaches.
“Over my dead body or yours.” Peaches slid her body between the door of the studio and the other woman.
“Ladies”—the voice of reason came from China Gordon—“this is ridiculous. We are all women of light and love. We want nothing but the best for all of us.” She had a pashmina shawl in her hands and put it in the young woman’s hands. “Sarah, this is from my new line. Why don’t you go and enjoy this today?”
“It still doesn’t get me my hot yoga class or my money. I’ve got a good six months left on my membership.” Sarah rested her hands on her hips, shifting her small frame side to side.
“You want your money back?” Peaches was acting so out of character; her actions made my insides tense up. She caught my eye when she marched to the counter and poked her finger on the fancy electronic tablet, making a drawer pop open underneath the counter. She grabbed a fistful of money and stalked right back to Sarah, throwing what looked to be all one-hundred-dollar bills into her face.
My jaw dropped watching all those Benjamins fall to the floor.
“You’ll regret this,” Sarah said with a smack of bitterness in her voice. She reached down and picked up the money. “Simon always said you were a big pill to swallow, and this little Zen den of yours was all an act. He mentioned how you are one of the worst gossips in Sugar Creek Gap, but I refused to believe it. You seemed so nice, and well”—Sarah’s eyes drew up and down Peaches—“let’s just say it appears you walk your talk of love, happiness, kindness.” Sarah held the money in one fist and shook it in the air. “But you’re all talk. You disgust me, and I’ll tell everyone I know.”
“Good! Get out!” Peaches screamed when Sarah walked past the counter to go out the door. I took a step aside so I wasn’t in the way.
“Forget her.” China was trying to be a good friend and calm Peaches down. “Let’s take a look at these samples. You’re going to love them.”
“Not now, China.” Peaches pushed her hand aside. “I have to go meditate and get Simon and that… that…” She stormed back to one of the massage rooms.
I carefully laid the mail on the counter and went to turn around, but China started talking to me.
“I’m not sure if Peaches will ever be right, now that she and Simon have broken up.” China shook her head and placed her garments back in the bag. “That was his new girlfriend. She never took a yoga class before Simon. Now she’s signed up for all sorts of classes, and I bet it’s just to get Peaches’s goat.”
“That’s a shame because I saw the same girl in here the other day, and they were having words then.” I couldn’t help but notice China’s shirt looked like a yoga shirt but a little looser fitting around the bottom. “I guess I can relate to Peaches.”
“You should tell her that.” China shrugged.
“Can I ask where you got your shirt?” I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.
“It’s one of mine. It’s a tented bottom so it flows when your moving from position to position.” She held her arms out to the side.
“I love it. Will Peaches be selling it here?” It was definitely something I could wear and feel some confidence in until I got the Lucy Drake body.
“That’s why I’m here this morning. We are trying to go over some final choices, but poor Peaches just isn’t in the right frame of mind to even think about any big business decisions.” She sat down on the stool behind the counter.
“Are you working here?” I ask
ed when I noticed her getting comfortable.
“Oh no. I have to head out of town this afternoon for my real sales job, but I figured I can wait a few more minutes until Peaches comes back.” China placed the palms of her hands together and bent her head down. “Some good meditation will make her feel a million times better.”
“If you do get that top in the shop, please hold one for me. I’d buy it today.”
“I can probably fit you for one at my house and make you one, if you want.” She took something from her bag of clothes, and leaning on the counter with her elbows propping her up, she held a small business card between her fingers. “Give me a call.”
“Really?” I was so pleased. “That would be great. I’m just not so comfortable wearing all the tighter-fitting clothes just yet.”
“Then you are the perfect customer for my line.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “I keep telling Peaches that the older woman is who will love my line of clothing.”
“Thanks.” I snickered with her card in my grip and headed out the door. “Older woman,” I groaned, rolling my eyes and heading into the next shop, the Wallflower Diner.
I about knocked over one of the customers walking out of the Wallflower because my mind was all knotted up in trying to figure out what on earth about me said “older woman”.
“Older woman?” My mom cackled from behind the counter. She shoved a piece of Kentucky Hot Brown breakfast casserole in my face along with a hot cup of coffee. “Honey, you take a good gander at this face. I’m the older woman.”
“You’re a youngin’.” My dad scooted down to the open stool next to me. “You’ll always be my baby.”
“I bet the jumbled mess in your head is all about the change.” Mom pointed a direct finger at me. She grabbed the coffeepot and made her way down the counter, topping off the customers’ coffee cups.
“Oh dear.” Dad took off his John Deere cap and rubbed his hand over what was left of his gray hair. “Your mom was a doozy to deal with when she was going through the change.”
I smiled.
“Lucky for her she had you.” I took one more look at the fattening casserole and decided my diet wasn’t such a good thing either.
“Why you eyeballing my food?” Mom took great offense to anyone who ordered from the diner and didn’t devour it as soon as she set it down. “What’s wrong with you?”
“The change,” Dad snarled and brought his coffee up to his lips, taking a drink.
“Oh honey, you need to go see Doc Faith. She’ll give you something because if you don’t get a handle on it now, you’re gonna be having your own personal summer in there.” She circled her finger in front of me. “Now”—she pushed the plate closer—“eat up.”
“I’ll take it to go.” I looked at my watch so she’d think I was telling the truth. “I’m running late.” I bent down and picked out their mail, which also included their personal mail.
Truth be told, I’d never want to hurt my mom’s feelings, and her food was delicious. That was the problem. I’d seen all those pop-up ads on Facebook, and the internet talked all about the change.
I swear, sometimes I felt there was a little bug in my computer that could read my mind. Anytime I even thought about something, the next thing I knew, that thing I was thinking of or even mentioned had some sort of ad pop up on my devices.
Mom leaned over, nearly knocking my coffee into my lap, and slapped her hand across my forehead.
“Nope. No fever.” She pulled back. “Listen, you might have something else if you ain’t hungry. I saw on Oprah how this lady thought she was going through the change.” Mom’s eyes drew up and down my body. “She lost her appetite too. It was awful. I’ll spare you the details until you see Faith.”
“Mom, Oprah isn’t on anymore.” I stood up and watched her grab a to-go box and push the casserole into it.
“I know that. I saw it once.” She reached under the counter and put another to-go box on top of my other to-go box. “You don’t forget things you see on Oprah.”
“Then it all must be true,” my dad groaned and rolled his eyes, taking the mail from me.
I tried not to laugh out loud, but Mom saw it anyway.
“That there,” she said, tapping the top box, “is some freshly baked smoky summer sausage and grits casserole for Millie Barnes. She’s entertaining some of the Elk’s women this afternoon, and I told her I’d send some slices with you.”
“No problem.” Then I watched her stack another box on top of the other two.
“That is for my grand-fur-babies.”
Every time, without fail, I left the diner with something equally delicious for Rowena and Buster.
“Now, do you want me to send something to Mac?” Her chin slid slightly to the side, the opposite direction of her eyes as they bore into my soul. She tapped her fingernail to her chest. “Way to a man’s heart is the stomach, right, honey?”
“Mmhhmmm.” Dad was too busy separating his mail into categories, which I’ve never understood. He held out a piece of mail. “This ain’t ours.”
“Oh.” I took it and noticed it was a certified letter that needed a signature. “Monica is generally really good about separating out any sort of special deliveries,” I said, talking about the mail clerk who took pride in separating out the mail before anyone even got to work. “Simon Little?”
That was super strange. Simon Little was Nick Kirby’s business partner at the garage who just so happened to be Peaches Partin’s ex and Sarah Hodge’s new boyfriend. Boy, things were coming around full circle.
“When did you start delivering to the gas station?” Dad had already seen who it belonged to.
“I don’t, but that means I have to get going so I can take the extra walk there to get it where it needs to go.” It was a perfect time to get out of there because my stomach was really growling. If Mom heard that, she’d lay herself in front of the diner door until I ate the entire contents of my to-go box. Plus, it let me off the hook from answering any questions about Mac Tabor.
“You give me some sugar.” Mom held her arms out and walked around the corner, giving me a peck on the cheek. She patted her hands on my back. “You let me know what Faith says.”
If my mom was one thing, she was persistent. I’d never even committed to going to see Doctor Faith Hunter, but in Mom’s mind, her even suggesting it meant that I already had an appointment.
I waved goodbye to them and quickly delivered the mail to Pie in the Face, where I grabbed the outgoing mail from Geraldine Workman like Iris had told me to. Then I dropped off the mail to the Community Center and the Roasted Bean coffee shop before I found myself standing face-to-face with Mac Tabor in his office.
“Thanks.” He greeted me with his big white smile, taking me back to the first time I’d met him when Richard and I were dating. At the time, I’d felt horrible and guilty about my thoughts about Mac.
Why wasn’t I dating him, I remember thinking to myself when I’d gotten swept up into his deep brown eyes and thoughts of me running my hands through his thick brown hair—compared to Richard’s thin short hair.
But that was years ago, and here we stood today. He still had those amazing deep eyes and thick brown hair, with only a few wrinkles.
“What’s with the look?” Mac asked. None of my expressions ever went unnoticed by him.
“You could always tell when I was thinking something.” I smiled and handed him his mail. “I was just thinking how unfair it is how a man can get better looking with time while we women start falling apart.”
“Oh. This sounds like something you need to discuss with Iris.” He wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.
I laughed.
“That is every woman but your woman.” My jaw dropped when I blurted out the words without any sort of filter. My mind didn’t even process it before I said it. “I’m so sorry. Lucy is a beautiful woman. I—”
“You forget that I know you better than probably anyone, and I’m alread
y used to you just saying stuff.” He put a comforting hand on my arm, which sent electric shocks through me, causing me to take a step back. “Sorry. I really shouldn’t think I can touch you like that anymore.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got to get going.” I gestured to the door.
“Is this how it’s going to be now that we aren’t…” He stumbled for the right words.
“Going to get married? Hitched? Live together?” There I went again, blurting stuff out.
Maybe there was something to this middle-aged woman thing that went along with saying whatever I felt like.
I gulped.
“I’m so sorry. I am losing my mind.” I shook my head. “I’m happy for you and Lucy. I don’t know what this is for me, but you’ll be the first to know.” I didn’t wait around for him to have a comeback before I hightailed it out of there.
Lucky for me, after I’d delivered the mail to the General Store, Lucy was on the radio, so I was able to slip into the station lobby without her seeing me. Then I went across the street where I delivered the mail to the courthouse, fire and sheriff’s departments, as well as the library and funeral home.
What made my second loop so easy to do was the perfect timing. It was right when things were just getting going for the day, making all the shop owners and various employees too busy to gab and slow me down.
And today they all seemed busy, which put me ahead of schedule. So I could take a little longer walk to the gas station to deliver Simon’s certified letter to him before I went back to Little Creek Road, where I was sure Millie Barnes was waiting for me to deliver the to-go box from the Wallflower Mom had sent with me.
Even with the food deep in my mail carrier bag, my stomach growled as the smell of freshly homemade food wafted out and up to my nose.
“Resist the urge,” I told myself and continued to walk a little faster when I noticed the old Phillips 66 gas sign in front of me.
