When We Let Go, Delancey Stewart [early reader books .txt] 📗

Kings Grove was quiet. The summer was coming to an end, and weekend visitors tended to drive back down the hill on Sunday nights, taking their noise, dogs, and children with them. I liked the quiet. For one thing, it made it easier to write, when I actually managed to do it. I knew writers’ block wasn’t a real thing. When writing is your job, you just sit down and get it done, like any other job. But I’d gotten to a level of success where if I didn’t quite feel like writing—and honestly, it had been months—I could tell my agent to hold off the publisher. The promise of my next blockbuster was enough to convince them to slide deadlines along a bit.

I didn’t enjoy going into town lately—I hadn’t for a long time, really—but I needed to restock groceries and pick up my mail. The grumpy post office administrator, Craig Pritchard, didn’t appreciate it when I let my mailbox overflow and I didn’t appreciate being lectured by an asshole. So I drove the short distance from the residential side of the village to town and eased into a parking spot in front of the post office next to a shiny convertible Jaguar. I spent a moment lingering next to the car, wondering who was crazy enough to drive such a thing in a place where tree sap and pollen did no favors to shiny paint jobs. I looked around as I always did in public, but this morning I didn’t see any police cars, and no one I recognized was out on the sidewalk. Good.

It turned out there was someone I knew inside the post office, kind of. I busied myself opening my own box as the pretty woman from the half-built house pulled a pile of fashion magazines from her own box on the opposite wall.

“You should really check more than once a week if you’re going to be ordering all these magazines,” Craig Pritchard’s flat voice informed her.

“Sorry, Craig.” Her tone said she was not sorry at all, and I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face at the sarcastic sound of it.

Maddie looked beautiful today, her hair pulled back in a casual ponytail, and her face shining and fresh. She wore jeans, and I admired the way they molded to her long legs, hugged her curves. She glanced over at me and caught my eye for a quick second before jerking her gaze in the other direction, pretending she hadn’t just seen me. I couldn’t help but chuckle as she opened a magazine and leafed rapidly through the pages, obviously waiting for me to leave.

Before I could think better of it, I stepped near her, made it impossible for her to ignore me. “Hello again,” I said, feeling a goofy smile cross my lips as I got a whiff of the fruit-scented shampoo she must use.

“Hi.” She looked up at me, a slow blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Nice to see you again.” I said the words and forced myself to turn away, handing Craig the fat envelope I needed him to send my agent—the signed book his mother wanted. As he weighed my package, Craig decided to quiz Maddie about her choice in postal deliveries.

“What do you do with all these magazines, anyway? It’s not like anyone up here gives much weight to what kind of shoes you’re wearing.” He leaned out to glare at her high-heeled boots and then went back to ringing up my package.

“Just like to keep up with civilization.” There was a barely contained ire in her voice, and it made me like her even more.

“How’s the house?” He sneered when he asked this, his thin lips disappearing beneath the silver and blond mustache.

“The same.”

“We get enough snow and those walls might just topple over, you know,” he said with a smile. I didn’t like his tone, and wasn’t sure why Craig was inserting himself into Maddie’s business. Still, I knew there was no place for me in the conversation.

“So they say.” She closed her mailbox and stuffed her magazines into the big bag hanging over her shoulder, taking her sunglasses in her hand.

“You gonna get back to work on it? People say you can’t afford to finish it.” Craig continued. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he wasn’t really paying attention to me.

“People should probably mind their own business,” she said lightly. I couldn’t stifle the laugh that burst out of me at that as I took my credit card back from Craig and accepted the receipt.

Craig was not deterred. “The things people build in the confines of a national park are pretty much everyone’s business, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not when we’re talking about private property, Craig. Thanks for your thoughtful interest in my home, though.” I’d moved to the door as they wrapped up their conversation, and held it open for her as she turned. I laughed again at the face she was making, her nose scrunched up and her tongue stuck out—an expression I knew was meant for the nosey mail clerk.

“Nice face,” I whispered, stepping out behind her as the door swung shut.

She stopped just outside the door, a blush turning her pretty skin pink. “I know. Mature, right? He just pushes my buttons.”

“I think that was his intent.”

“I’m sure it was.” She sighed.

We were standing on the sidewalk in front of the post office, Maddie looking up at me as the sun cast her curls aglow. She was gorgeous. I wished I could find some other reason to keep her talking, but nothing came to mind. “Well, it was nice to see you again, Mrs. Douglas.”

She visibly cringed. “It’s Turner. Maddie Turner. Douglas is Jack’s name. Jack’s my ex.”

“Right. Well, nice seeing you again.” I needed to walk away before I did something ridiculous, like ask her to stop by and visit me, like admit that all my solitude had grown old and that I was tired of being the mysterious subject of village rumors. I needed to go before I let myself become even more interested in the woman with the rampant curls and fiery attitude.

“Bye,” she said.

I spotted the young blonde from the diner approaching, and took that as extra incentive to be on my way. I watched as they spoke together, turning to watch me get into my car and then getting together into the Jaguar parked at the curb.