Page 25 of Postmarked December

“Not since the one I got when I arrived. I purposely asked Nick to wait in the lobby while I went upstairs in the elevator, in the name of safety. But really, I wasn’t sure if I’d have an envelope waiting at my door or anything.”

“That’s smart anyway,” Marion said.

“Yeah. He makes me a little too comfortable. I have to remind myself that I don’t know him as well as I feel like I do.”

“Well, if he isn’t a con man, it sounds like you’ve got the start of something wonderful.”

“We’ll see.”

“Call me tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Heather got off the phone, padded into the bathroom, and got ready for bed. When she’d finished, she went back into the room and sat at the small table and chairs. She opened her journal, the envelopes tucked into the back of it, and wrote to Toby.

Hey you. I’ve had a weird night. I met somebody who makes me feel special, but the guilt that comes along with it is hard to swallow. When you and I got married, I never thought I’d have to let anyone else in. I never wanted to. I know you said you’d be okay with it. You’ve always wanted nothing but the best for me. But that doesn’t make letting my guard down any easier. I don’t want to stay stuck in my grief forever, but how am I supposed to move on?

She put down her pen and stared at the words until they blurred in front of her. With her final question to Toby going around in her head, she got up, checked the lock on her door, clicked off the light, and climbed into bed. The thing that had hit her the hardest tonight was that in her heartache, she’d gotten used to the monotony of her days. And tonight the speed of life had accelerated, and she’d scrambled to keep pace with it.

Chapter Ten

Aknock at Heather’s hotel door sent her heart pattering.

She was already full of nervous energy while getting ready to meet Nick downstairs. The front desk hadn’t given him her room number or anything, had they? Surely they couldn’t, for privacy purposes, but even if they could, she’d told the front desk that she was under a confidential alias anyway. So who could it be?

Another knock.

She walked to the door and peered through the peephole to find a bellman. She opened the door.

“Missy Harland?” he asked.

“Uh, yes?”

He held out a familiar red-and-white envelope.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it.

He nodded. “Of course.”

Heather shut the door, carried the envelope to the table, and ripped it open. She now looked forward to these little surprises. This was why she was really here—she had to keep that in the front of her mind. Would she know when she’d received the last one? Could this be it? She didn’t want to think about it. She read the note.

I have a question for you today: Have you had hot apple cider recently? If not, you should have a cup. So should everyone, right? Go to Windy Rock Orchard and get yourself one. Once you do that, you’ll get the next message.

What? Drink apple cider? Why should everyone drink it?

She checked the time. Oh gosh. Nick was waiting. With a deep breath, she pulled herself out of her old life and lurched into the present one. With a quick check in the mirror, she darted out the door.

In the elevator, she sifted through old memories, trying to make sense of the message. Then it hit her. She and Toby did have apple cider in Greenville. Where had they been when they’d had it? A restaurant? Where were they? They didn’t visit the orchard. They’d run out of time. There was nothing memorable about the cider, apart from the two of them simply being together. What was the point of his message? At least with the wine, she had a bottle to take home and a big memory to hold onto. But the cider—she wasn’t getting it.

She walked through the lobby, past the bar and the flickering stone fireplace. On the other side of the hotel, in the restaurant, Nick, clean-shaven and freshly groomed, waved from an empty table. She went to join him.

“Good morning,” he said, his face bright and well rested.

“Morning.” She took a seat across from him.

A waiter appeared. “Welcome. Will we be having a beverage this morning? We have fresh fruit juices, lattes, cappuccinos… We have French press, hot tea…”

Nick nodded for her to order first.