“And I’d better not be pregnant because Tag doesn’t want more kids.” I felt the stab of her words, the pain behind them. Kids loved Lilly, and Lilly loved kids. I couldn’t imagine her going through life without having any of her own.
“I don’t blame him,” she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “His kids are in their thirties, and he doesn’t want to go through all the baby stuff and toddler phases again. But I do. I want kids of my own.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry,” Emily said, leaning her head on Lilly’s shoulder. “What do you think that means for you and Tag, then?”
Lilly took a big, breathy sigh that shook the whole couch. “I think I have to break up with him. But I don’t really want to. And anyhow, how am I supposed to do that when you and Ryan just got engaged?”
“Ryan and I will figure out our own stuff. You take care of you. Maybe if you end things with him right now, there will be time for the dust to settle before the wedding?”
“Maybe, but I’m not ready. I still love him, and Christmas is coming, and Tag and I have plans to go to the Caribbean in the middle of December. He wanted to come with me for this trip, but something came up with some work project that he had to take care of.”
“I thought he’d retired?” I asked.
“He has, but there are a handful of jobs that he still has to sign off on. Plus I think he sensed that I wanted a little space. It just doesn’t make sense. I mean, love is the simplest, most natural thing in the world to feel, so why does it always end up being so frickin’ complicated?”
Why, indeed.
Chapter 22
“Brooke, I’m so glad you’re here.” Shari motioned to me from behind the counter of the post office. It was Monday, and I’d stopped by to get my mail. And, yes, to get some baked goods.
“I have something I have to show you,” she said, her voice low, her eyes darting around. She almost seemed nervous, but why on earth would she be nervous? Maybe she had some particularly naughty pasties to show me, but judging from her demeanor it was something more significant than that.
I’d spent the morning in my office going over budget spreadsheets. My eyes were sore, and so was my brain. No one had warned me that being the mayor would involve so much math. I was good at math, but I didn’t love doing it, and this wasn’t really math so much as it was accounting. Sudsy was supposed to check in with me later this week. Maybe I’d make him do the crunching.
“Come in the back here with me,” Shari said, gesturing for me to follow as she walked toward the back. I’d never been in the back room of the post office before. Was I even allowed back there? Did my new status as mayor give me security clearance? I glanced around furtively, as if federal postal agents were going to pop out and arrest me. Maybe that’s why she seemed nervous. My curiosity doubled.
“What are you hiding back here? Is it chocolate chip cookies, because I hope it is.”
She led me over to the corner, where tall unvarnished pine shelves sat full of old, dusty banker’s boxes. Around the room were various post office items. A copy machine, a package scale, rolls of bubble wrap, and wide packing tape. Posters on the wall advertised collector stamps with pictures of bald eagles, the Liberty Bell, fish, flowers, bridges. Typical stamp stuff. In the center of the room was a white Formica worktable. Going to the corner, Shari rearranged a few of the boxes and pulled one from the back. She set it on the table and solemnly placed her hands on the top.
“I have been debating what to do about this for days, Brooke. I discovered something. Something big, and I just didn’t know who to tell.”
My curiosity tripled.
She lifted the lid and took out a stack of a dozen or so letters held together with a rubber band. They were yellowed with age and tattered at the corners.
“You’ve got my full attention, Shari.” My heart was starting to skitter about just from her behavior.
“Every once in a while,” she said, “we get a letter addressed to someone I don’t know. Usually it’s for somebody working here for the summer who never bothered to set