Page 21 of The Twelve Months of Christmas
Mrs. Bigman’s response to that was a harrumph. “Nobody likes it when the post office Grinch loses their cookies, either.”
Mrs. Bigman was not getting the message. Big surprise.
“I’m sorry about the cookies,” Molly said. “I checked and verified that they’d been delivered.”
“Well, my son never got them, so somebody messed up,” Mrs. Bigman insisted. She tapped on the package wrapped in brown paper. “These had better make it.”
“I’m sure they will,” Molly said. Especially now that the new policy was in place. Molly typed the address in her computer. “I need you to check the screen and verify that this is the correct address.”
“I know my son’s address. You’re the one who needs to be checking.”
Molly decided it was best to ignore this comment. “If it is, please hit yes.” She pointed to the small screen facing Mrs. Bigman.
“Yes, it is. New procedure,” the woman muttered. “It better work this time.”
“I’m sure it will,” Molly said, even though she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the first package had reached its destination.
The package was properly processed, and Mrs. Bigman went on her way and Molly breathed a sigh of relief. And here came her reward from putting up with Mrs. Bigman—Reggie Washington, one of her favorite customers.
Reggie was a big man with a big smile and he reminded her of the husband she’d lost so many years ago. His hair was white and from his regular daytime visits, she figured he was retired. He bought a lot of stamps and sent a lot of cards—mostly, he claimed, to far-flung friends. “Everybody likes to get a card in the mail once in a while,” he once told her. The closest living relative he had was a cousin in North Carolina. “Shoulda got married,” he said once, “but never found the right woman.”
Too bad, she often thought. Reggie sure seemed like a nice man.
Every once in a while the thought flitted through her mind that she wouldn’t mind having a nice man in her life to watch a movie with or enjoy a morning coffee with. It would feel good to be hugged by a big man with a big smile.
He gave her bobblehead Santa a pat on the head. “You got a new helper here?”
“Something like that,” she said.
“Keeping Christmas all year, huh?”
“I’m going to try.” It was either that or run away to the North Pole.
Reggie smiled that big smile of his. “Good idea. The world needs more cheer and not just during the holidays.”
“That’s what I think. What kind of stamps do you want today?”
“Got any flags? If not, I’ll take whatever you have,” he said as he pulled out his credit card.
“Oh, Reggie, I wish all my customers were like you.”
He chuckled. “Someone should clone me.”
“Yes, someone should,” she agreed, and pulled out a sheet of stamps for him. “You always make my day when you come in.”
“Funny you should say that. It makes my day when I come in and get your window.”
Molly felt her cheeks warming. “You are a flatterer.”
“Not really. I never learned the art.”
“I guess it comes naturally to you, then,” she said.
He chuckled again. “It’s easy to say nice things to a nice woman.”
The woman in line behind him cleared her throat impatiently.
He got the message and paid for his stamps. “Thanks for the stamps. You and Santa have a good day,” he said.
