It only took Rachel an hour and a half to reach her apartment in Manhattan and another twenty minutes to find a parking spot. Living in the city, she didn’t own a car and searching for a place to park the one she rented was one of the reasons why. New York in July was not a place anyone would call pleasant, but the people Rachel lived and worked with were not at all like the stereotypical New Yorkers who were known for their nastiness and snobby behavior. Even in the heat and humidity, the doorman gave her a smile as Rachel entered the building. She checked her watch and found that she still had plenty of time to relax and change before her meeting.
But first, she wanted to fill out the postal form on Alex’s behalf. She had no difficulty writing a highly complementary letter, based on what she had seen earlier, but she still embellished the facts, just a little. Rachel didn’t want anyone in the postal service to know she had written the letter. They might not take it serious
“...then, I ran out of the 8125s for the drop-ships and bulk mailing and had to spend most of the afternoon on the phone with every postmaster in the district. So, first thing tomorrow morning, I have to order them from the warehouse and hope they get here before the end of the week.” “Maybe you should have them sent FedEx?” Rachel joked. Alex was not amused. “Joking!” She smiled and in spite of himself, Alex smiled back. It was the first time since they’d left the cabin that he seemed to notice she was even there. Except for his remark about how great she looked in the white sleeveless dress she’d changed into, Alex had delicately stayed clear of the topic of her leaving and instead talked about the weather, his truck, the new fishing boat he’d just purchased and his job. Rachel would have killed for a martini, but the sign in the window indicated the restaurant recently opened and had not yet been granted its liquor license. So, cold sober, she politely tried to st
Alex tried to concentrate on the employee applications his fellow postmaster Richard Drew had put in front of him, but the pages were a blur. “Sorry, Richard. I didn’t get much sleep last night. These all look pretty good to me.” They all look pretty much the same to me, he thought. “I don’t know why you need my help picking a clerk.” “Actually, Alex, this was just an excuse to get you out of the office. You spend way too much time behind that desk. How about her?” Alex read the file Richard handed him. “Cynthia Anderson? What’s so special about her?” “Her entire family are all employees of the postal service. Her dad worked his way up from letter carrier to postal supervisor and was promoted a few years ago to head the maintenance contracts division, and her mother manages all the computer systems for the entire state of New York. Cynthia aced the postal exam with a perfect score. She’s not the typical college kid looking for some eas
As she had predicted, Rachel slept past noon, way past. It was two-thirty when she opened her eyes and another half hour before she felt fully awake. She dumped out the morning coffee, made a fresh pot, and took a shower. She was just starting to dry her hair when the phone rang. “Rachel. It’s Alex.” “Hi, I was just getting out of the shower. What would you like for dinner?” “That’s what I was calling to tell you. I’m afraid I have to cancel our plans. Something really important just came up and I have to go to a meeting right after work.” “Oh,” Rachel tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Can you stop by after your meeting?” “I’m not sure how long it’s going to take. Besides, I really do need to get some sleep.” She laughed. “Sorry, I forgot. I just woke up a few minutes ago. I need to get started on that book outline for Peter, anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow?” “Absolutely. I have some incredible news to tell you, but
“That sonovabitch! That lying bastard!” As soon as Rachel returned to her cabin, she began tossing clothes into her suitcase. Every item she packed was accompanied by a series of very loud curses, aimed at the, fortunately absent, Alex Bentley. “He knew,” She yelled at the laundry. “All these weeks. He acted so innocent, when he was the one who did it. God, how could I have been so stupid?" Rachel grabbed the suitcase and headed out to her car. Even though she didn’t have to be back in the City until after the weekend, there was no way she was going to spend one more night anywhere near Alex Bentley. She was about to close the trunk when she saw headlights coming up her driveway. Instinctively, she knew those headlights were attached to a very familiar truck, and she also knew she didn’t want to have anything to do with the driver of that truck. Not bothering to turn off the headlights or the engine, Alex jumped out of the truck and
It was unusually cold and cloudy for mid-July. The gloomy weather perfectly mirrored Alex’s mood when he returned to work. His right ear throbbed painfully after being subjected for several hours to the monotonous, repetitious ringing of an unanswered telephone. Exhausted and frustrated, he’d finally fallen into an oblivious sleep sometime around two a.m., only to be awakened by an obnoxiously chipper radio dj a scant five hours later.The usual routine of the day was transformed into an emotional roller coaster ride, with Alex the only passenger. Each time the front door opened, or the telephone rang, he felt a jolt of heightened anticipation, immediately followed by a sharp plunge into an abyss of disappointment when he realized that whoever it was, wasn’t Rachel.Alex tried to put her out of his thoughts by concentrating on a variety of mindless chores as he got ready for his move to Albany. He organized his files, straightened out his desk and com
The glare of the early morning sun reflected off the smooth mahogany desk and shot straight into Alex’s face. He got up from the floor, where he had been trying to adjust the height of the massive desk chair, and closed the blinds. From the moment he had stepped into the ornate office, he knew it was going to take much more than a few slight modifications to the furniture to make him feel comfortable in his new surroundings.The shiny metallic nameplate that read “Alex S. Bentley, Director of Postal Operations”, looked as out of place on the antique wooden door as Alex felt sitting behind the hand-polished desk surrounded by the luxurious paneling, leather furnishings and plush carpet. He was only three hours away from his quiet rural home, but he felt as if he were in a foreign country. He had six months to adjust to his new surroundings, but for now, he needed only to adjust one piece of furniture.Alex continued to struggle with the stubborn chair
“Jane, did the mail get here yet?” Mark shouted into the hall.“That’s the third time you asked me in the last five minutes, and the answer is still no,” His wife walked into his office with a fresh cup of coffee. “I’ll check again.”“Dammit! It’s after three and I have to file those papers before five. I told that ass to use FedEx, but he’s too damn cheap.”Mark threw some files into his briefcase, slammed it shut, and began pacing the floor. Maybe Rachel was right, he thought, leaving all this behind to pursue a more relaxed, less stressful career. It had been wonderful to see her again, but when she began to ask questions about their relationship, he hadn’t been totally honest. Yes, he had walked out, abruptly, letting her think that the reason was because of her lack of interest in their profession, but that was only part of it. He had, in fact, been planning to break up with her w
When Alex arrived at his office the next morning, he found a huge stack of files waiting for him. Sighing in frustration, he sat down and began the seemingly endless task of reading through and sorting yet another pile of mindless paperwork. It was well past noon when he finally finished the last file and he was just about to leave for lunch when Brad walked in and dropped a new stack on his desk.“This is ridiculous!” Alex’s irritation was obvious, “Most of this stuff is just interoffice memos and application forms. I’m sure we can eliminate a great deal of this paperwork by sending e-mail. Brad, where’d Nate hide the computer?”“Mr. Richman didn’t use a computer, Alex. In fact, he refused to have any modern technology in his office at all. He was quite adamant about it, too. He’d mail letters to Washington, protesting the sales of stamps at ATMs and grocery stores, accusing these modern conveniences of steal