Mrs. North, dressed in tennis whites, her sleek black ponytail poking out of the back of a matching baseball cap, walked up to the customer counter, tapped the silver bell, and waited.
“Be there in two shakes,” called a gravelly voice from behind the wall of post office boxes. There were footsteps, followed by a loud thud, and what sounded like a small avalanche of cardboard. “Darn it!” the voice said. “Who put those there? Well, you know it was you, you old fool. You’re the only one who works here.”
Ben Titus stepped into view, kicking several boxes out of his way and carrying a plastic mail tote. At the sight of Mrs. North, he paused, and his broad smile flickered. It quickly returned, bigger than before, if perhaps a bit stiffer.
“Why, hello there, Patricia,” he said, stepping up to the counter. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you in here.”
“Good morning, Ben,” Mrs. North said. And, not to be outdone, she met his smile with an overly warm greeting of her own. “It has been some time, hasn’t it.”
“Well, I suppose it’s easier for you to use the post office in Elmwood. Closer to your work and all.”
“Yes. That’s true.”
The two adults stood staring at one another. Their supply of pleasantries exhausted; neither seemed quite sure what to do next. Ben shuffled his feet, and Mrs. North shifted the package she was carrying from one arm to the other.
This silent stand-off might have gone on for quite some time had the plastic mail tote not slid from the counter and landed on the floor with a loud thwack. It caused both adults to jump and Mrs. North to let out a small shriek of surprise.
“Sorry about that,” Ben said with a chuckle. He retrieved the tote and returned it to its place. “So, what can I help you with today?”
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“I’d like to mail this package,” Mrs. North said, handing over the box.
Ben took it and placed it on top of a small silver scale. As he spun it around to read the label, he stopped and looked back at Mrs. North. “How do you want this to go?” he said, watching her expression carefully.
“Pardon?” Mrs. North asked, stiffening.
“The package. How do you want it to go? First-class or parcel post?” asked Ben.
“Oh, first-class, please,” said Mrs. North and handed him a credit card.
Ben punched several buttons on the scale, applied the postage, and dropped the box in a bin. “It should arrive within three days. Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, thank you,” said Mrs. North and made to leave.
“Patricia?” said Ben.
“Yes?” Mrs. North asked, a hint of tentativeness in her voice.
“Don’t forget your credit card.”
She gave him a weak smile and took her card.
“Did you need something else?” Ben asked when she didn’t immediately resume her departure.
“Yes,” said Mrs. North. “If you could keep this transaction between us, Ben, I would appreciate it.”
The old postmaster held her gaze, then gave a curt nod. “Who would I tell anyway?” he said. “Your husband doesn’t come in here any more than you do.”
“True. However, as you know, Lester can be quite sensitive on some subjects.”
“Oh,” Ben said, softening. “Gotcha. Of course. I won’t say a word.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs. North walked to the door and was about to open it when Ben called after her again.
“How is Mathis these days?”
At his question, Mrs. North’s shoulders drooped, and she answered without turning. “I really couldn’t say. I send care packages, but — I’m sure he’s busy with his studies.”
“I know it’s not my place,” said Ben, “and you’ll pardon me for saying it, but it isn’t right?”
“Some things take time,” Mrs. North said. “The problem is, they’re both more alike than either would willingly admit. But I have faith that in the end, Edward will come around.”
Ben snorted. “Your husband ought to leave the past where it belongs.”
Mrs. North spun to face him. “Is that what you’ve done, Benjamin?”
A pained look crossed Ben’s face, but he did not reply. Slowly lowering his head, his fingers drifted to his wedding band. He did not look up again until the bell above the post office door jingled closed.