He walked her out to her old 1978 truck, Tucker bringing up the rear. He opened the door, lifted up Tucker, then kissed Harry on the cheek. “Jim said something to me. Said I ought to take one or even two partners. I suppose I should, but I like running my own ship.”
“You’d still run your own ship, but there’d be more money and more paperwork.”
“And more personalities. All I have to worry about now is Alma.” He mentioned his new secretary, as his former one had retired.
“Jim’s right. First of all, honey, you’d be doing the hiring, and you’re a good judge of character.”
“Why, thank you.”
“I guess it’s kind of like marriage: You don’t really know somebody until you live with them, but, still, you’d get a good sense of them and you could build in a trial period for both of you. And the other thing is, you aren’t forty yet but we’re both kind of closing in.”
“I know.” He smiled weakly. “Just a number.”
“It is, but everyone sure makes a big damned deal out of it. If you had partners, the practice could expand and you’d make more money and hopefully have a little more time for yourself.”
“Which I would like to spend with you.”
She climbed into the truck, closed the door, then leaned out the open window to give him a kiss on the cheek. “If you’re lucky.”
16
Morning, ladies,” Rob Collier sang out as he tossed up two large canvas mail sacks in the back. “Thursday and heating up!”
“Morning. I didn’t hear you drive up.” Miranda, who lived across the alleyway, usually heard the big mail truck when it rumbled to the back door.
She felt she had the perfect life, for all she had to do was walk through her garden, cross the gravel alleyway, and unlock the back door. She incurred no commuting costs, and the walk wasn’t far enough to wear out shoe leather.
Harry, on the other hand, drove in from her farm at the base of Yellow Mountain, or, if the weather permitted, she might walk the four miles in just for the delight of it. This morning she drove.
“Any news from the other P.O.s?” Miranda asked.
“Page’s Store closed in Batesville, but the P.O. still rents space there.”
“Page’s Store? Why, that’s been open since 1913.” Miranda gasped, for she enjoyed the store and the whole Page family.
“I know, but time’s a movin’ on. Time flies like an arrow,” Rob said.
“And fruit flies like a banana,” Harry said.
Both Miranda and Rob laughed and shook their heads.
“Mom’s in one of her Looney Tunes moods.” Tucker smiled.
Rob, never one to turn a deaf ear to gossip, announced, “I heard that Dr. Langston told Sugar and Carmen, too, to come in and get tested for rabies.”
Harry, who thought she worked at the nerve center of Crozet, betrayed a flash of irritation. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Sister-in-law. Her best friend works in Dr. Langston’s office.” He enjoyed his scoop. “And Sugar said, ‘The hell with it. He’d be too damned late to do anything.’ But I reckon Carmen will go. She’ll have to emote over it for a time.”
“Rob.” Miranda had to stifle a laugh so her voice didn’t truly carry censure.
“Carmen is all over the map.” He had his hand on the doorknob. “I tell you, that girl is nine miles of bad road. She will get a man in trouble.”
“Rob, I thought most girls could get a man in trouble—especially you.” Harry raised an eyebrow.
“I wish.” He winked and left, the rumble of the big mail truck audible even inside the building.
At eleven the tall, genial Pug Harper stopped by.
Miranda leaned over the counter when the county’s postmaster came through the front door. “Mr. Postmaster, what can we do for you, or is this an inspection?”
Harry gathered up white rigid-plastic mail cartons into which she had folded the large mail sacks and placed them back on the floor, the wooden boards polished smooth from use. “Pug, how are you?”
“Just fine. And no, Miranda, this isn’t an inspection. Crozet’s post office is one of the best run in the county. Make that the state.” He beamed.
Pewter, half asleep in a canvas mail cart, opened one eye. “Laying it on thick.”
Mrs. Murphy, stretched out next to her, replied, “Wonder what’s up.”
Pug noticed the lump in the bottom of the mail cart sway ever so slightly. “Your coworkers are asleep on the job.”
Tucker, dead to the world under the cart, didn’t even lift her head.
“They sorted mail this morning at seven-thirty. You have no idea how productive they are.” Harry laughed.
“And you know, Pug, they have an unerring sense of which letters are bills and which are for real.” Miranda walked to the small table in the rear and picked up a dish covered with a dish towel, returning to the front counter. She lifted up the corner of the dish towel. “Blueberry muffins and oatmeal cookies.”
“Oh, my.” He patted his stomach, bulging somewhat, then gave in, reaching for a blueberry muffin.
As he polished off the muffin, they chitchatted.
BoomBoom sailed in. “Pug, what happened? You couldn’t stand the main post office any longer?”
“I like to come where the women are beautiful.” He winked.
“Here we are. The Three Fates.” BoomBoom leaned against the counter as both Harry and Miranda leaned forward so they were a picture.
“I need my sunglasses,” Pug joked.
BoomBoom retrieved her mail from the brass box. “Girls, guess what?”
“You won the lottery,” Harry responded.
“No. Bill Langston asked me to play golf with him Friday morning.”
“No grass under your feet.”
BoomBoom shrugged. “I’ll let you know what I think after eighteen holes. Bye.” She blew kisses and left.
Pug’s eyes followed her out the front door. He scanned the small parking lot. “Ladies, I’m actually here to tell you we are going to build a new post office right across the street. It’s official.” He pointed out the door, which had a large window in it.
“Where?” Harry flipped up the counter divider and walked to the front door, Miranda right with her.
“We’ll clean all that off there, take the parking lot right up to the barber shop—well, what used to be the old barber shop—and at the back we’ll put in a brand-new post office. Next to it the bank’s building a new branch. As soon as I get the architect’s plans, I’ll bring them by.”
Harry, hiding her lack of enthusiasm, said, “What will happen to this P.O.?”
“Well, I don’t know. As you know, we don’t own this building. I expect whoever rents the space will change the interior to suit.”
“I expect.” Harry didn’t notice two kitty heads pop up out of the mail cart, paws on the side.
“A brand-new building!” Pewter exclaimed.
“Might be nice. Might not. Sounds like too much traffic with the bank, and we’ll be across the street with the elder-care high-rise.” She mentioned the tallest building in town, at six stories.
“Mother won’t like it,” Tucker, finally awake but still immobile, declared. “She doesn’t like change.”
“She’s not that bad.” But Mrs. Murphy had her doubts about the new building, too.
“How big is the proposed post office?”
“Six thousand square feet.” Pug thought this was wonderful.
“My word.” Miranda’s hand flew to her chest. “The two of us will rattle around in there like two peas in a large can.”
“You won’t be alone. We’ll add more workers, plus we’ll also have shifts. There will be three scales at the counter with computers, of course. So at any given time there will be two people in the back sorting, stacking, getting ready for the pickups. We have so many types of mail now, so many new services, which I know you know, and I just read in The Daily Progress”—he mentioned the county’s daily newspaper—“that our growth rate right here in Albemarle County exceeds the population growth of India. Plan ahead!” He returned to the building. “There will be one large garage door in the rear so Rob can back in. It’s going to be very efficient as well as attractive.”