four miles to the post office. On a cooler day he could’ve walked or jogged, but with less than an hour to spare, he took the truck. He got behind the wheel and hit redial on his phone for Tug’s Diner as he backed out. “Can I get two hot dogs all the way for Paws Town Square? I’ll be by to get them in about twenty minutes.”
Those hot dogs were his weakness. He ate them for lunch at least twice a week, something he used to avoid completely, but they were quick, cheap, and easy, and Tug made homemade chili and toasted the buns. He could already taste them.
The Whelk’s Island post office was the tiniest one he’d ever seen. The original for this town, it was a historic landmark. According to the locals, the compact building had once sat right in the middle of a sandy field, but the town had eventually grown up around it.
The teeny structure had withstood years of hurricanes, and when the city planner recommended relocating it to an updated building, the townspeople wouldn’t stand for it. Instead, they compromised and allowed an external makeover. The worn and rotting pillars had been replaced with new composite material that would never need painting, and where there used to be lapboard was all vinyl siding in soft yellow with glossy white trim. It looked like a kid’s playhouse to him.
He parked his truck at the curb and carried the packages inside. The interior boasted the original wooden counter, and vintage brass twin-letter-combination post-office-box units lined the walls.
“Hi there!” Maeve walked toward him with a stack of mail in her hands.
“Hello, Maeve. We meet again.”
“And so soon,” she responded. “How are you?”
“Doing great. Just mailing some packages.” Paul jostled the boxes in his arms.
Her eyebrows darted up. “You can’t tell me you don’t have someone who could do that for you.”
“I do, but I like to get out. With the tourist season in full swing, I haven’t been jogging on the beach like I usually do. I get a little stir-crazy, but it’s too crowded out there for me.”
“Oh gosh, I wouldn’t go to that end of the beach if you paid me. You should park at my place and access the beach from my house. I’m right up the street.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” She wrote down the address for him. “I walk from there to Tug’s Diner and back almost every morning. I’m the big blue stilt house in the curve. I don’t even have a car, so there’s always room to park.”
He thought for a moment. “I know which house you mean. That’s a hike. You walk that every day?”
“I do.”
“Good for you. My buddies and I used to surf that pier.”
Her mouth sprang into a smile. “Seriously, make yourself at home. It’s a great stretch of beach to run. Or walk, in my case. I’d love it if you would.”
“I’m going to take you up on that sometime,” Paul said. “I’ve been using the trails at Paws Town Square, and they’re nice—don’t get me wrong—but there’s really nothing like the ocean air and the sound of the waves crashing at your feet to get your head in the right place.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears. We both know that’s true.” She started out the door, then paused. “Is that your big blue truck?”
“It is.”
“Looks like you.” She waved a hand over her head. “See you around the beach soon, I hope.”
He watched her walk out, then took his packages to the counter, where a postal worker wearing a name tag—Ruthie—stood.
“I see you’ve met our resident beachcomber,” she said.
“Maeve? She’s great.”
“Yes. Everyone loves Maeve. She used to help decorate this place on all the holidays. She helped the Master Gardeners club with the planting, too, only she never was good with plants, so she’d just drop shells alongside all the flowers. Kind of her thing. She loves seashells.”
“Who doesn’t? Nice lady too. She was a real supporter with the city when I was trying to get all my plans approved.”
“She’s one you want to have on your side. She’s a pistol, that one. Rain or shine, she’s out and about. Walks everywhere. It could be raining buckets or a hundred and five in the shade and she’ll show up.”
“Doesn’t really surprise me.”
“Nothing she does surprises me.” Ruthie chuckled as she weighed and labeled Paul’s packages. “That all for you today? No stamps?”
“No, thank you. That’ll do it.” Paul took his receipt, then walked out