The Letter - Chapter 12

My cell phone rang.  I knew from the ringtone that it was my brother Bob.  When I had first gotten the phone, Jennifer had set up the speed dials and ringtones for my most frequent contacts.

“Hi Bob.  What’s up?”

“Hello, George.  Hey, my car is finally ready.  Can you give me a lift to the garage?”

“Wow, seriously?  It’s been like two weeks.  Sure, I can give you a ride.  What was wrong with it?”

“They needed to order a couple parts.  That’s what I get for driving an old car.  Maybe it’s time I looked into a new one.”

“Yeah, it might be time to trade in that bucket of bolts. Anyway, I’ll see you soon.  Why aren’t you at work?”

“I’m taking a vacation day.  I’ve got a bunch of errands to run now that I’ll have my wheels back,” said Bob.

“OK.  I’ll be right over,” I replied.

As I drove, I recalled that the last time I had dropped everything to help my brother, I had just started reading that letter and had been excited about the possibilities it might offer.  Now those prospects that had lifted my spirits had been dashed.  Maybe my decision to throw the letter away had been hasty.  By the time I had thought to retrieve it from the wastebasket, Jennifer had put it out with the trash and it was now either sitting in some landfill or recycling center.  Maybe it was for the best, but in the back of my mind, I mourned a little for what might have been.  A fantasy, no doubt, but I felt a little depressed about the events of the past few days. 

I pulled up in front of Bob’s house and honked the horn.  Bob came out of his house and hopped into the seat beside me.

“Hey, bro,’ thanks for the lift.  What’ve you been up to the last few days?  Been shoveling some snow, I’ll bet.”

“Actually, Jennifer shoveled it.”

“Whoa!  How’d you manage that?”

“Actually, she volunteered.  I guess she was feeling guilty.”

“Really?  So what horrible crime did she commit?” asked Bob.

I proceeded to tell Bob about the letter, how it went missing and Jennifer’s tearful confession.

“So it sounds like it was all my fault for dragging you out from tea and potential romance,” Bob said with a wry smile.

“Yeah, Bob,” I smiled back, “totally your fault.”

“Do you think you’ll ever figure out who this mystery woman was?”

“Highly doubtful.  I decided the whole episode was kind of ridiculous.  I’ve since thrown the letter away.”

“Yeah, I suppose I understand.  Especially after going through what you did with Melissa.”

At the mention of my ex-wife’s name, I grimaced as I felt a dull pain in my gut. 

“So do you ever hear from your ex?” Bob asked.  “I mean, you’d think she’d at least have some interest in what her daughter is up to.”

“As far as I know, she’s abandoned us for the high life that dear Richard has given her.”

“Yeah, your bungalow in Bethel Park is a far cry from that mansion in Sewickley Heights.  Did you see the pictures of that place?  It was featured in Pittsburgh Magazine.  So how did Melissa meet that guy?” 

“Melissa was his secretary at the law firm.  Their affair broke up two families, and was a bit of a scandal at the firm.  Richard’s first wife reportedly made out pretty darn well.”

“Hey, money isn’t everything.  Melissa gave up a lot when she lost you and Jen.”

“So says the guy with very little money and a broken down car.  Anyway, here we are,” I said as we

pulled into the parking lot of the car repair shop.  Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, I can take it from here.  Thanks for the lift, George.   Take care.”  

Bob got out of my car and walked into the garage.  I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back home.

The Letter - Chapter 11

I poured the freshly brewed tea into each of our cups and sat down at the kitchen table.

“OK, Beverly, what do you think?  Is there any way to make a silk purse out of the sow’s ear that I’ve told you about?”

“Well, Ellie dear.  You’ve got lots of options.  First of all, sows have a right to keep their ears firmly attached to their heads.  You’re under no obligation to fix this.  You can just let this go.”

“So you’re advising me to do nothing?”

“This is a discussion, Ellie” Beverly smiled.  “We need to take a clear-eyed look at your options before we decide on a course of action,”

“All right.  But I don’t feel good about the ‘do nothing’ option.  Unless he’s changed drastically, George is a nice person.  I don’t want to burst into his life with a mysterious letter and then disappear without a trace.  Somehow that seems cruel,” I said.

“So then we go to Plan B, or option 2, however you want to label them.”

“Option 2 it is.”

“So under option 2, you need to communicate with dear George in some manner.  How about just ringing him up on the phone?”

“I don’t have his phone number.”

“Ellie, you’re just creating barriers.  You have his name and address, and you have the all-knowing internet.  I’m sure you can find his number in just a couple of mouse clicks,” Beverly said, brushing back a strand of her silver hair.

“Of course, you’re right,” I said taking a sip of my tea.  “I just would feel so awkward.  I’d probably lose my nerve if he answered. I might just hang up.”

“You sound like a nervous teenager.  What do you have to lose?”

“Well, it would be so out of the blue.  I would say, ‘Hello, George.  This is Eleanor Barnhart.’ No, that’s my married name. I mean, ‘This is Eleanor Kosko.’ And he’d say, ‘Who?  I don’t know any Eleanor Kosko.’  And then I’d slowly melt like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day and seep into the floor boards as the receiver fell to the floor, and the last thing I’d hear would be his voice from the telephone receiver saying, ‘Who is this, really?  If you’re selling something, I don’t want any, so goodbye.’ Click.”

“Hmm.  I think someone is in dire need of a shot of self-confidence.”

“Oh, God, Beverly.  I’m sure you’re right.  But I really don’t think I can make that phone call,”  I sighed.

Beverly took a sip of her tea.  “Moving on to option 3 – telegraph.  By the way, do you have any cookies?” she asked glancing at the empty plate where her lady lock had been.

“Be serious,” I said.

“I am.  At least about the cookies,” Beverly teased.

I got up and walked to the counter and brought the cookie jar back to the table.  “I hope you like ginger snaps.”

“Love ‘em.  So long as they’re snappy.  Nothing worse than soggy ginger snaps.”

“I just picked them up at Trader Joe’s. Enjoy,” I said taking the lid off the jar and offering it to my friend.

“OK, so no telegrams.  That leaves carrier pigeon, email or snail mail.  How about another letter?”

“That’s sort of what I was thinking.  What should I say?”  I reached into the cookie jar and grabbed a handful of cookies.  “This is going to spoil my appetite for lunch.”

“You need energy to think,” Beverly said.  “And anyway, who says we can’t have cookies for lunch?” Beverly said with a wink.  “Go get a pen and paper.  You dictate, and I’ll write.  We’ll knock out a draft, and you can review and revise before you copy it onto your famous lavender stationery and douse it with perfume!”

“You’re incorrigible,” I giggled as I got up to get a pen and pad.  Beverly was making me smile again.