Postmarked Romance

Samantha Rider hurried across the street to Romance, Arkansas' Post Office, just off the town square. Once slated to close, the small office was saved from consolidation by the volume of Romance's February outgoing mail. This extra traffic also "saved" Samantha from relocation, much to her disappointment.

Samantha shivered in the cold wind as she reached for the doorknob. Luckily the place had central heat. Her mother told her as late as the mid-sixties there had been a pot-bellied stove in the lobby. Then again, many of the residents didn't even have electricity at that time. Viva progress!

Once inside, her utilitarian black shoes made high pitched squeaks on the old tile floor. Uniform shoes. They went well with her navy blue unisex pants, light blue blouse and blue jacket. She felt as sexy as a chunk of moldy cheese. Not that anyone in Romance was worthy of romancing.

"We've got another bag, Sam," Jasper Collins, the town's postmaster called from behind the counter.

"Okay. I'll get right on it."

Bags of mail from around the country came addressed to the postmaster every February. Lovers sent valentines to be postmarked and mailed from Romance as early as the last week in January.

Samantha exhaled on a sigh as she opened an envelope to reveal another declaration of love stamped and ready to go to some lucky recipient. Maybe one day she'd leave her hometown long enough to find Mister Right. Or Mister-Not-My-Cousin, at the very least.

Bells jingled on the front door announcing a patron in from the swift north wind. Before long, snow would cover the mountain roads.

"Hello, sir. May I help you?" Jasper used his addressing-a-stranger-tone.

"Yes. I'd like to rent a box," a deep, yet smooth as honey voice replied. Samantha almost dropped the card she held.

Just because he sounds like a dream doesn't make him one. Just think of Bobby James. He sounds like a Hollywood hunk, but looks like a hillbilly hick.

"Commercial or personal use?" Jasper kept things all business, darn him. Didn't he know the postmaster should be one of the harbingers of gossip?

"Both, I guess. We just inherited Mom's mail order soap and candle business. We thought Romance would make a spectacular place to set up shop," the man replied.

We? Great. Sounds like he's married.

"We're looking for a two bedroom house. Keeping two hotel rooms is a little pricey," a woman entered the conversation.

Two rooms?

"It's hard to locate real estate around here, either rental or for sale. Your best bet is Rosebud Realty in Rosebud. They list property all around the area," Jasper, still not being nosey, answered.

Samantha stepped around the corner to find a stamp pad. It didn't matter that one sat on her work table. You could always use a spare pad of ink.

Whoa. Definitely Hollywood hunk potential.

Dark curls framed the man's friendly face. He glanced up from filling in post office paperwork, and sapphire eyes caught hers. Despite the cool workroom, Samantha felt heat slide over her body. She broke eye contact, embarrassed by the blush she knew reddened her cheeks.

"Meredith, did you want your personal mail to go to this box too? Or would sharing with your brother cramp your style?"

"Oh please, Garret. I just got out of a marriage. I don't have a style," Meredith's voice indicated an eye-roll.

I want a style. Sam looked down at her US Postal Service uniform. And this isn't one.

~***~

Margie's Diner hummed with conversation, the clanking of dishes and the rhythm of the jukebox. Samantha grabbed a napkin for her gum before studying Margie's menu. She really had no need for a menu. Pot roast, chicken fried steak or regular grilled to order fare made up Friday's offerings.

"Hi," a familiar honey smooth voice sounded to her left.

Samantha jumped, almost knocking over her hot tea. "Hi." Remember to close your mouth, Sam.

"I saw you at the post office today. I'm Garret Bowman." He held out his hand for her to shake.

"Sam, um Samantha Rider." She took his hand.

"Very pleased to make your acquaintance." His eyes told her he spoke truthfully.

Samantha finally closed her mouth, then opened it again to say, "I'm sorry. I'm not used to men who have manners." Or didn't know me when I wore diapers.

~***~

The bells jingled in the Post Office lobby. Samantha stepped to the counter with a little more pep than usual. Garret smiled at her from the other side.

"I need to mail a Valentine," he announced. Samantha deflated inside.

"We do that here," she replied with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

"But I have one problem. You see, I don't know the recipient's address or phone number, so I can't even call to ask." His eyes implored her to have pity on him.

"I don't know how I could help you with that. The modern postal service can't deliver without a complete address."

"Oh, I think you can help me find this address." Garret pushed an envelope across the counter to Samantha.

She picked up the rose-red Valentine envelope, and her heart soared. "Samantha Rider" graced the front in neat, but manly handwriting.