Page 1 of Letter for Two
Chapter One
Sophia Davis lived in one half of a historic home in downtown Phoenix. The bungalow had been divided into two quaint apartments with two very distinct, well-labeled mailboxes. Yet, every day, she and the tenant in the other half of the house received a haphazard mixture of their own mail and each other’s. They met each evening at five-thirty on the wraparound porch to sort out the pile.
Her neighbor, Ethan Williams, was well worth the hassle of a mixed-up mail delivery. Sophia was half tempted to ask the mail carrier to mix things up on purpose. Those few minutes of laughing and talking with her handsome and witty neighbor were the highlight of her day.
She set her messenger bag on the hall table and glanced up at the clock. She’d managed the walk from her office building in record time. Mail sorting wasn’t for another ten minutes. Time enough to smooth out her hair and freshen her makeup.October had finally turned cooler, so she no longer arrived home drenched in sweat.
Ten minutes proved just the right amount of time. By the time the clock read five-thirty exactly, she looked less ragged and more refreshed. Maybe today would be the day Ethan finally noticed.
She stepped out onto the porch. He was there already, sitting in one of the patio chairs. What was it about a man in scrubs that made her heart tie itself up in knots?
“Hey, there.” He pulled himself up as she stepped outside.
Sophia moved into the house six months earlier. They had the mail sorting ritual down to a science now. They pulled the mail from their mailboxes and sat in chairs on either side of the small glass-top table.
“I think it’s your day to take the junk mail,” Ethan said, holding up a stack of flyers and envelopes of coupons as if offering her a real treat.
She shook her head, as she always did. “My recycle can says otherwise. It’s still full from yesterday when you pawned the ads off on me.”
He dropped the stack on the table next to him, acting like it was a big burden. “I guess I’ll be the recycle guy today.”
Sophia covertly watched Ethan over the tops of the envelopes she was supposed to be looking through. She’d always had a thing for guys with dark hair and the ability to hold up their end of a conversation. Ethan had both.
He waved around a brochure. “A programmers’ conference in Denver. Sounds exciting.”
She smiled as he handed it over. His eyes dropped right back to the mail.
“How were things at the hospital today?” Sophia asked, setting a letter addressed to him on his side of the table.
“When people asked my mom how her day was, she always used to say, ‘No one died.’ I don’t think that’s the best answer for a post-op nurse, though.” He flashed a quick mischievous look.
“I’ll start using that,” she said. “‘How was my day? No computers died.’ That sounds like a disclaimer at the end of a movie, doesn’t it?”
He chuckled and slid a magazine toward her. “Exactly. ‘No computers were harmed in the making of this film.’”
They laughed together a minute. She watched him, but his gaze didn’t linger. Why was it she never could catch his attention? The five minutes a day they spent switching letters and flyers and junk mail wasn’t doing the trick.
“What’s this?” Ethan held up a yellowed envelope, turning it around a few times. “Do you know anyone named Eleanor?”
Sophia shook her head. Ethan set the letter on the table right between them.
“It has the house address,” he said. “But no Apartment A or B.”
“For a former tenant?” Sophia suggested. She looked more closely. “Wait. Look at the postmark— 1966.” She couldn’t make out the entire date.
She took the envelope and turned it around a few times. It looked old, the corners bent and worn. There appeared to have once been a return address written on the back flap, but it had long since been smudged beyond recognition. This mysterious Eleanor had once had a last name, though it had faded. The house number and street were still visible, along with the wordPhoenix, but nothing else.
“This was mailed sixty years ago.” Sophia set it back down. “And I don’t think it’s ever been opened.”
Ethan looked at the envelope for a drawn-out moment before looking up at her. Those brown eyes melted her every time.
“What should we do with it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t belong to either of us, but who knows where this Eleanor is now.” She leaned back in her chair, letting her eyes wander back to the letter. “After sixty years, she may not even be alive.”
Ethan flipped the envelope over again then slouched in his chair. He fiddled with his hospital badge. Sophia tapped her foot, thinking.
A look of determination crossed Ethan’s face. “I know this makes me sound like a sap, but if this letter managed to stay around for sixty years, we can’t just throw it away.”
