Page 24 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“Thank you for the advice, Mrs.Huddleston, but I have no need of it.” With that, Emily walked into the post office.

Mrs.Huddleston opened and shut her mouth in dismay. Then she saw me standing there. “Move along, girl,” she snapped as she pushed her way past me and down the sidewalk. As she went, she knocked into an elderly man walking a small dog. She didn’t even stop to see if he was all right.

I rushed over to him. “Are you hurt, sir?”

He smiled at me, and I saw that three of his front teeth were missing. “No harm done. As long as Junior is fine, so am I.”

“Junior?” I asked.

He nodded to a dog that looked like a mop with paws. “Thank you for your kindness.”

I acknowledged him and went into the post office. As soon as I stepped into the room, I inhaled the post office scent. It was a mix of fresh paper, old books, and lavender. The lavender came from the wreath on the door. Mrs.Milner, the postmaster’s wife, loved lavender, and in the summer, half of their yard was dedicated to the plant. She made potpourri satchels and wreaths like the one on the post office door. She sold her wares at the local farmers market in season. I would guess that Amherst’s was the only post office in the entire commonwealth that smelled so much like lavender.

Mr.Arthur Milner was at the desk. He handed the man just in front of us a package. “Be careful with it,” the postmaster warned. “It says fragile on the side of the box.”

“Oh, I will,” the man assured him. “It’s a new mirror for my wife. I don’t want seven years’ bad luck for breaking it. Even more than that, I don’t want to anger my wife. This is her birthday gift.”

“Good luck to you then,” Mr.Milner said with a smile.

After the man carefully went through the door with his fragile package, Mr.Milner turned to us. “Emily Dickinson!” the postmaster cried. “To what do I owe this great honor of your visit?” He glanced at Carlo who had followed us into the post office. Mr.Milner didn’t appear to mind the dog’s presence as he said, “And the same goes for you, Carlo.”

Carlo gave a slight bark and grinned from ear to ear. This made Emily smile.

“Oh! And who is that behind you but Willa Noble?” the postmaster exclaimed. “I have not seen you in many days.”

“Willa is working for my family now,” Emily said. “She’s been an invaluable help.”

“Is that right? I have been wondering what became of you, Willa, when you stopped coming to collect the mail for Mrs.Patten’s Boarding House. When I asked Mrs.Patten about you, she said I was being nosy.” He laughed. “Well, of course I was. A man doesn’t become the postmaster if he’s not curious about the people around him.”

Emily raised her brow at me.

I took a breath. “In my last place of employment, the boardinghouse, I used to come every day and pick up the mail for Mrs.Patten and everyone who lived there.”

“That she did, and it was the highlight of my day. I always liked chatting with you, Willa. I was disappointed that you stopped coming.”

I smiled and was flattered by his comment. I hadn’t known that the postmaster liked speaking to me at all. I thought he always spoke with me because he was the postmaster and that was part of his job.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I left the boardinghouse.”

He waved away my concern. “It wasn’t your job to inform me. Don’t worry yourself about it.”

“And how is Mrs.Patten?” I asked. “I haven’t seen her since I left.”

“Mrs.Patten is the same. I’m convinced she sends someone to collect that mail so that she can look at it herself before she gives it to her boarders. That’s illegal, of course. It’s a serious offense to open and read another person’s mail.”

“Can she get in trouble?” I asked with wide eyes.

He laughed. “Most likely not. The federal government has bigger problems than a busybody proprietor of a boardinghouse.” He harrumphed noisily. “Enough about Mrs.Patten. She will find a replacement for you and be fine. Women like her always are.”

I wanted to ask him what he meant when he said “women like her.” Who were the women like Mrs.Patten? In my experience, I had never met anyone else like her.

Before I could ask my question, though, Mr.Milner said, “I was sorry to hear about Henry. He was a kind young man. He had a nose for trouble, but it was all in good fun, I believe.”

Tears came to my eyes. “Thank you.” I didn’t know why I was surprised that he had heard about Henry’s death. I shouldn’t have been. He was the postmaster after all. He knew everyone and everything that happened in Amherst.

“He will be greatly missed,” Mr.Milner added. “It’s such a shame to die so young in a pointless accident.”

I tried to speak again, but no words came out. I couldn’t say it wasn’t an accident because I really didn’t know. It could have been, or Jeremiah could be right and my brother was murdered. The burns on Terror’s flank came to my mind. How could those be accidental?

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