Page 8 of Postmarked December

“They probably wouldn’t do anything. No harm’s been done, apart from tearing my heart out.” She carefully folded the letter, returned it to the envelope, and set it on the counter. Then she went into the bathroom and wiped her tears from her cheeks, trying to get herself together.

“What a weird thing to do to someone,” Marion said, squinting at the envelope when she returned. “We should at least try to figure out if it’s malicious.”

“It doesn’t say to meet anyone or to do anything, apart from buy myself a bottle of wine.”

“Unless they’ll be waiting at the wine shop.” Marion gasped and rubbed her hands together, showing her unease. “What if the paper’s laced with something? We could both be contaminated.”

“Well, the door’s locked, so no one can attack us, and I feel fine. How do you feel?”

“Woozy, suddenly.” Marion went to the sink and washed her hands. “I’m feeling dizzy.”

“Are you really, or do you just think you are?”

“I’m having trouble getting a deep breath.” Drying her hands on the kitchen towel, she walked over to Heather and breathed into her face. “Am I wheezing?” She ogled the envelope on the counter.

“No, you sound fine.” Heather couldn’t help herself. She started laughing and half crying at Marion’s obvious panic over nothing.

“Even if it isn’t laced, it’s still bizarre.”

“Yeah, I know. Why don’t I call the Franklin post office? It was postmarked two days ago, and it’s pretty unique with the wax seal. Maybe someone remembers who sent it?”

“Good idea.”

Heather stared at her cold eggs. Did she want to know who’d mailed her that cryptic message? Or did she want to live for a little while in the irrational hope that it was a nod from Toby?

Chapter Four

With their breakfast stone-cold on the table in the kitchen, the candle still flickering between the plates, Heather and Marion sat together on the sofa with the phone leaning against the empty vase on the coffee table. Heather squeezed Marion’s hand while the phone pulsed.

“Hello, Franklin Post Office. How may I direct your call?”

Heather leaned forward. “Um. I live in Nashville, and I received a letter. I think someone mailed it from your post office a couple days ago. There’s no return address or signature, so I was calling to see if you all knew who mailed it.”

The woman on the other end of the line offered a cheerful chuckle. “Ma’am, we get so much mail coming through our office each day. It’s hard to know.”

“Please,” Heather pleaded. “It’s really important. The envelope is red and white, and it has a green wax seal with a Christmas tree.”

“It’s the holidays. We get a ton of those.”

“I’m sure you do, but the note inside wasn’t signed, and it had a pretty unique message. I really need to figure out who sent it. Could you at least ask someone, humor me?”

A warmhearted sigh came down the line. “When did you say it was mailed?”

“Two days ago.”

“Let me see who was working. Hold on just a minute.”

Marion burst into a smile and pumped her fist.

After a pause, a clatter on the other end of the line drew their attention back to the call. “Hello?” a different voice said. “This wouldn’t be, by chance, someone named Heather, would it?”

Heather and Marion locked wide eyes, and a tingle of anticipation swam through Heather’s veins. “Yes.”

“I can’t believe you actually called. I’ve been hoping you’d call.” She huffed out a laugh of disbelief. “A man showed up with an envelope about the size of a Christmas card. He said if anyone came in asking about it, it would probably be someone named Heather. And he insisted that I write down a message and keep it for a couple of weeks. I’m supposed to tell you to go to the wine shop downtown. It’s called Bottle and Barrel. Do you know it?”

Her skin went cold. Bottle and Barrel was the wine shop where she and Toby bought the bottle of wine two years ago. And the note had said to get another bottle. You know where to go…

“Yeah,” she said, her mouth dry. What was going on? “What am I supposed to do at the wine shop?”