Nicholas Gordon is stuck in a rut. Day in and day out he does the same thing, deliver the mail, do errands and hang at home—alone. It’s been the same since he left high school nearly five years ago. He’d never been able to push himself outside the self-imposed box of shyness he lived in, too afraid to be ridiculed and hurt, or worse, rejected as worthless. His parent’s certainly thought he was worthless, they’d said it enough times.
Nic knew lots of people—through their mail. He knew Mrs. Farnsman had a daughter in prison because he’d seen the letters with the return name and address. He was aware that Mr. and Mrs. Carnilton’s son was serving in Afghanistan and had been there for about eight months. It was obvious Mrs. Davenport was having an affair on her husband, though that was because he’d seen the man coming and going from the house when Mr. Davenport was out of town, not from the scarce mail they received.
Mrs. Pulman was caught up in a money scandal based on the mail she received. Mr. and Mrs. Kelly looked as if they were thinking of buying a condo in Malibu from the multiple brochures they received and Mr. Kerns was either going to surprise his wife, or was planning with his wife, an Alaskan cruise. The Fienstens at the end of the block kind of scared Nic since most of the mail they received looked to be credit cards—a lot of them. He wondered if they were in some kind of identity theft ring.
Of course, none of it mattered since it was against federal law to tamper with the U.S. mail and Nic wouldn’t contemplate such a thing anyway. Authority figures terrified him, always had. He was shaking in his shoes whenever Officer Daley drove by, slowing down to stare at Nic as if he were a criminal and not supposed to be in the neighborhood, despite his very prominent mailman’s uniform.
Nic only wished he had the courage to stare back, because—oh my stars and puppy dog ears—but Officer Bridger Daley was every fantasy Nic had ever had in his lonely life.