Page 78 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

I felt my heart racing. Shaking, I continued on my way to the post office. As I walked through the door, the dried lavender wreath sent a burst of fragrance into the air.

“Good afternoon, Willa,” Mrs.Milner said.

“Oh!” I said. “I didn’t expect you here.”

She smiled. “I’ve been filling in for my husband while he is away on business. What can I help you with?”

Mrs.Irene Milner was a short, plump woman with the brightest golden hair I had ever seen. It was the perfect color for a cheerful woman. I didn’t believe I had ever seen the postmaster’s wife so much as frown.

“I’d like to pick up the Dickinson family mail.”

She nodded. “It will just take me a second. Most people don’t believe it, but I know this post office just as well as my husband does. Who do you think keeps it so clean and tidy?” she asked with a chuckle and disappeared into the back room.

While Mrs.Milner was gone, I peeked out the window. The old men on the benches were there chatting away, but they were the only ones I saw. I half expected Catherine, or worse her brothers, to be waiting outside to reprimand me again.

“I just have one letter for you. It’s addressed to a Miss O’Brien and appears to be in Miss Dickinson’s hand. It came all the way from Washington.” She smiled and handed me the letter. “I did not know until Arthur left that the Dickinson family would be in Washington the same time as my husband. I asked him in a letter if he ran into the family, but in the following letter, he said he did not.”

I frowned, but we had seen Mr.Milner in Washington. I shook my head. He must have received the letter and replied before he saw any Dickinsons in the city.

“I just got back from Washington myself. I went to help the family but came home early to help Miss O’Brien with the spring cleaning.”

“I can imagine that is a big job in such a large home.” Her cheeks pinkened. “I can barely care for this office and our tiny house behind it. I could not do the cleaning that is required of you and Miss O’Brien.”

I smiled. “While I was in Washington, the Dickinsons had a dinner party and invited everyone from Amherst who was in the city. Mr.Milner was there as were Mr.Johnson and Officer Matthew Thomas.”

She raised her eyebrows. “My, that must have been an interesting group. Arthur must have replied to my letter before the party. I will be sure to ask Arthur about it when he gets home. I love hearing about his travels. I wished that I could go with him, but someone must always stay back and care for the mail. The mail doesn’t stop for travel.”

“Does he travel often?”

“Just a few times a year, and it seems to me he always goes south. He says there’s a lot of work to be done in the postal service in Southern states. I really don’t know much about it. Arthur is always tired when he gets home from his trips and doesn’t speak much on them.”

I nodded and thanked her for the letter.

“Willa, before you go.”

My hand was on the doorknob, and I turned to face her.

“I just wanted to say that both Arthur and I are so sorry about what happened to Henry. It’s such a terrible loss. There were many times I would hear he and my husband talk about their plans of moving west. They were both dreamers in that way and had that dream in common.”

“Mr.Milner wanted to move west?” I asked.

She nodded. “Very much so. I am not keen on the idea. I like the civilized life here in Amherst, but when the time comes I will have to follow my husband, won’t I? I don’t have any choice in the matter.”

My heart constricted. I supposed that she didn’t.

“Anyway, I wanted to share my condolences and tell you I know that Arthur misses talking to Henry about their dreams. Henry was a fine young man. A bit of a troublemaker.” Her eyes smiled at me. “But a fine and good young man.”

“Thank you,” I murmured and slipped out through the door.

I arrived back at the Dickinson home with the letter from Emily telling Margaret that I would be coming home early. I went into the house through the servants’ entrance and found Margaret in the dining room polishing every single vase that the Dickinsons had in their collection. The entire table was covered with vases in every size and color.

Margaret jumped when I walked into the room. “Good heavens! You gave me a shock. What are you doing here?”

Carlo hopped up from his spot on the rug and looked behind me. He whimpered.

“I’m sorry, Carlo. Miss Dickinson didn’t come home with me.”

The large dog sighed and shuffled back to his spot on the rug, lay down again, and flopped his large head onto his crossed paws.

---