The Tin Box (3 page)

Darjeeling tea and dry toast were enough to get his brain functioning again. He had to stoop a little to fit in the shower, but at least the water pressure was decent. He was running low on soap and shampoo. He decided midway through rinsing that instead of settling down in front of his laptop right away, he’d take a drive into town. He could get some groceries and make sure the post office knew he existed. He was a little doubtful whether he’d find all the items on his growing shopping list, but at least he could give it a try.

He shaved and dressed. He felt a little daring in going tieless, but he could already tell it was going to be another hot day, and the thought of that strip of fabric strangling him in his stifling car was just too much. He even considered leaving the sport jacket behind, but in the end he threw it onto the passenger seat. He needed to look at least somewhat professional.

The ritual of unlocking and then relocking the gate was going to get tedious, he predicted. And the key ring Jan had given him was too heavy to keep in his pocket. He ended up stuffing it in his glove box instead and hoped nobody broke into his car when he was in town.

Hawks circled high overhead, and the cows watched as he bumped down the long road to the highway.

The town of Jelley’s Valley was so tiny he nearly sped through it. A long, low building with a white-gravel parking lot housed the post office and general store. The square building next door was Dos Hermanos restaurant. An ancient gas station across the highway completed the business section. There were houses too, maybe a hundred of them, all very modest and set well away from the road. A larger building with a flag out front was nestled at the base of a hill. Judging by the adjacent play structures, it was the area’s elementary school.

William pulled in next to the only other vehicle in the lot, a battered old pickup. Two men in bicyclists’ gear sat at a picnic table near the post office end of the building. Their bikes leaned against a nearby tree, and one of the men guzzled a sports drink while the other massaged his own thighs. Neither gave William more than a quick glance as he emerged from the car and slipped his jacket on. Even the cows had found him more interesting than these two men did.

Fliers were stapled to the exterior of the building beside the post office door. Free kittens. An upcoming yard sale. A barbecue to raise money for someone named Patty, although why Patty needed the cash was not explained. A person with horrible spelling and worse handwriting was offering to do yard work or light repairs, “Price Negoshible.”

William pulled open the door and stepped inside.

He saw at once that the post office and store shared one big room. The postal part had a wooden counter with locked boxes in front and a grid of cubbyholes behind. The walls in that portion of the room sported more homemade advertisements as well as a couple of faded posters for commemorative stamps. There was nobody behind the counter.

In fact, the only two people he could see were in the larger portion of the room, the general store. Several low shelves were packed with boxes, jars, and cans. A large older woman in lavender sweatpants and matching sweatshirt stood near the cash register, chatting loudly with the clerk, who was mostly hidden by the bulk of her body. “Delmer says we shouldn’t give her a penny more, not even if she
is
my niece, because she’s just going to squander it. But it’s her kids I’m worrying about. The littlest one, he has to have some kind of expensive eyeglasses or he can’t hardly see, and the middle one told me they’ve been eating nothing but sandwiches for dinner. Honestly, Colby, I just don’t know what to do.” She shook her head mournfully.

“Family can break your heart, Mrs. Barrett.”

“They sure can, Colby. They sure can. I just toss and turn all night thinking of those children. If I were ten years younger I’d take them in myself, I surely would.”

“And I bet you’d do a real good job with them. You raised your own really well.”

Mrs. Barrett nodded before digging in her purse. The cash register jingled merrily—it was an old-fashioned one, not the modern variety that beeped impudently.

“Need some help out to your car today?” asked Colby.

“Thank you, but I think I can still manage one bag by myself. I’m not ready for the scrap heap yet!”

“Nah, you have a lot of miles left in you.”

Clerk and customer laughed. The plastic sack rustled as Mrs. Barrett gathered the handles. She turned away from the counter and hobbled to the door without glancing William’s way.

“Can I help you?” asked Colby.

William got a good look at the clerk and winced. Colby was maybe twenty-two, a good ten years younger than William. The original color of his hair was unclear; right now it was streaked with varying unnatural shades of blond and sculpted into elaborate waves and spikes. He was rather short and there was an elfin quality to him, with his slightly pointed chin and his clear blue eyes set a little obliquely. Those tilted eyes were traced with black eyeliner. His full lips were so red that William wondered if he was wearing lipstick. He wore a tight black tank top that revealed wiry arms and a compactly muscled chest. TOTAL DANCE WHORE was written across the front in sparkly silver letters.

He smiled at William and tilted his head a bit. “Help you?” he repeated.

“Um… I need to talk to someone at the, um, post office.”

“Oh! That’d be me.”

William backed up a couple of steps as Colby skipped down the aisle in his direction. Colby grinned, seemingly thrilled to be helping out. Instead of unlatching the gate to the post office counter, he vaulted right over and landed gracefully on the other side.

“What can I get you? Stamps? I’ve got some nice ones.”

“You work here?”

Colby apparently wasn’t put off by the question. “Yep. Why? Don’t I look like I know what I’m doing? I can demonstrate my awesome mastery of ZIP codes if you want.”

“That’s not exactly a regulation postal uniform.”

Colby glanced down at his shirt. He was wearing jeans too, skinny ones that showed off his trim physique, and a pair of red flip-flops. He looked back up at William and shrugged. “Who wants to wear pale blue all the time? And those dorky shorts with the stripe?
So
not flattering. Anyway, I have an in with the postmaster.” He winked and stage-whispered, “She’s my aunt.”

William didn’t like being winked at, but managed to keep his voice neutral. “May I speak with her?”

“Not now. She leaves me all cooped up inside while she does the rural deliveries. She claims it’s ’cause she likes the fresh air, but the real attraction is Bob Samuels. His ranch is the last stop on her route and she’s having a fling with him. Well, if you can call something a fling when it’s been going on for almost a decade.”

“A decade?” William echoed weakly.

“Something like that. Since a year or two after Bob’s wife passed away. I keep telling Aunt Deedee she ought to just move in with the old guy, but she says neither of them is fit to live with anyone else and they’re both happier this way. I dunno. If I had someone steady I’d want to wake up next to him every morning, but maybe that’s just me.”

With considerable effort, William managed not to shudder.

If Colby noticed his discomfort, he didn’t let it show. His smile still hadn’t faded. “Whatever your postal needs, I can help.”

“I’m, uh, I just got this job at the—”

“Hey! You’re the new guy at the loony bin! Jeez, I should’ve figured that out already. Sorry. I’m Colby Anderson, mailman and grocer.” He stuck his hand out.

William shook it just twice before pulling his own hand back. His skin tingled uncomfortably. “William Lyon. I wanted to let you know in case I get any mail.”

“Great! Anything comes in for Bill Lyon, we’ll make sure you get it.”

“It’s William.”

Colby went on as if William hadn’t spoken. “Now, Aunt Deedee doesn’t deliver to the nuthatch, at least not usually. You expecting a lot of mail?”

“No.” In fact, he was expecting very little.

“Cool. Then you can just collect it yourself whenever you’re in the mood. Or if you give me your phone number, I can call you if anything important-looking arrives. You know, save you the trip if it’s just catalogs or something.”

William blinked at him. “You’ll call me?”

“Sure. I got a couple of other customers I do that for. One of ’em has a mailing address here but spends most of his time at a cabin way up in the mountains. I let him know when his checks arrive.”

Although he was uncomfortable at the thought of this man scrutinizing his mail, William couldn’t think of any way to avoid it. And it would be nice to be notified right away when essential mail arrived. Lisa’s lawyer would probably be sending the divorce papers soon. It had been an easy split, no-contest, with hardly anything in the way of assets to worry about. William would have given her everything even if they’d had more.

“Okay,” he said to Colby.

“Take out your phone.”

William fumbled in his pocket as he complied. Then he obediently punched in the numbers that the other man gave him. Colby’s back pocket began to play a song—“It’s Raining Men,” for pity’s sake—and Colby pulled out his phone with a flourish. “Hey,” he said into the device.

Feeling silly, William just stood there. He was relieved when Colby chuckled and poked at the screen. “Gotcha. Now you’re in my contacts, Will Lyon.”

“It’s William.” It always had been, even when he’d been very small. Never Bill or Will or, God forbid, Willy.

Colby tucked his phone away. From what William had seen of his very tight jeans, it was a minor miracle that the guy could manage to fit anything in the pocket.

“So now that we have your communication needs under control, is there anything else I can help you with? Stamps?” He winked again.

“I, um, could use some groceries.”

“Sure thing.” Colby scooted over the counter. He didn’t quite brush against William as he passed by, but he came close. Much too close for William’s comfort. Maybe calling Colby’s gait skipping was overdoing things, but his steps were too light and bouncy to be called walking. He looked like someone having fun at a party, or maybe making his way into a club. Not a man passing between aisles of canned vegetables and Kotex.

When he was almost at the cash register, he whirled around to face William. “Before you point it out, yes, this isn’t regulation store clerk wear either. But I
also
have an in with the guy who owns the place. He’s my grandpa.”

“Are you related to everyone here?”

“Nope. Just everyone who matters,” Colby answered with a laugh. “The district fire chief is my uncle. I guess I could have got a job as a fireman but I’m not butch enough, and Christ, those uniforms are like ovens in the summer.” He bent down and retrieved a wire basket, which he held out to William. “Please. Feel free to peruse our bounteous selection.”

William took the basket with a small nod of thanks. He felt Colby’s gaze on him as he walked slowly down the shelves. The place was stocked about as well as a good-sized convenience store. The basic staples, mostly. Nothing fancy and not much selection. Certainly no coffeemakers or sheets. But William picked out some lunch meat, a carton of milk, some beans and rice, a bar of soap, and a few other items. Then he set the basket on the scarred wooden counter next to the cash register. “No fresh fruit, huh?”

Colby shook his head. “No, sorry. But that’s okay, ’cause if you drive about three miles down the highway you’ll come to a really great produce stand. They can set you up with anything you need, fruit- and veggie-wise.” He waggled his brows. “My cousins run the place.”

When William rolled his eyes, Colby laughed. He began to ring up the items in the basket, then paused. “Oh, man. Almost forgot. Now that you’re a local I get to show you the other main attraction in beautiful downtown Jelley’s Valley. Follow me.”

William didn’t really want to follow this creature anywhere, but he didn’t want to be rude. So he trailed along obediently to the back wall, where a narrow door was set between the refrigerator cases.
Private
, read the slightly crooked sign. Colby turned the knob, opened the door, and ushered William forward with a small flourish. “Welcome to the Jelley’s Valley cultural center.”

It had probably been a small storeroom originally, and the walls were still lined with shelves. But instead of extra cans and boxes, these shelves were stuffed full of books. Paperbacks, mostly, almost all of them showing signs of wear. There was also a crowded magazine holder and, in the corner, a small table with a big, battered ledger.

Colby looked around the room with the same pleased smile someone might give a grubby but well-loved child. “When my grandpa took over the store—back in the late forties—he decided the good citizens of Jelley’s Valley needed literature. So he brought in a book rack and filled it up. Only hardly anyone bought the books. They’d just stand there and read them. Nobody ’round here had much extra spending money back then. Most still don’t. Finally Grandpa just started letting people take the books home for free, long as they promised to bring ’em back. And after a while, folks started bringing their own books too, when they were done with them. Finally Grandpa set up this room. Our collection grows a little bit every year.”

“So it’s… a library.”

“Yep. Only nobody’s ever bothered with a card catalog and they’re not really shelved in any particular order. Folks are supposed to write down what they’ve borrowed in that book there, but most don’t bother.”

“Then how do you know if they’ve returned the books?”

Colby shrugged. “Everyone does. Well, except Pete Akers. He kinda never gets around to it. Once or twice a year I go to his place and gather all the books. He leaves ’em all over the place. It’s like an Easter egg hunt.”

“Oh.”

Colby clapped William’s arm, making him flinch. “Now that you’re a resident, you have borrowing privileges. Want to take anything home with you?” He waggled his eyebrows again and very nearly leered.

William’s cheeks heated and he backed out of the room. “Uh, no. No thanks.”