The smile of congratulation froze on his face. Yes, he could believe it. “I didn’t know they were hiring,” he said carefully.

“Yeah, well, it’s just temporary. I guess their sorting machine broke down and they were looking for someone to do it manually.”

Doug moved forward. “Who hired you? Howard?”

“No, Mr. Crowell was sick. I guess that’s one of the reasons they need an extra person. Mr. Smith hired me.”

Doug forced himself to smile. “What do you think of Mr. Smith?”

Giselle’s face clouded over for a second and he thought she was going to say something about the mailman, but instead she just shrugged. “I don’t know.”

The man in front of Doug paid for his groceries. Doug put a hand on Giselle’s shoulder. She did not move away. “I don’t know if you should work there,” he said seriously.

She laughed. “My mom said the same thing. Don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”

“Be careful,” Doug warned her.

She smiled and pulled away. “Of course.” She wiggled her fingers at him as she headed toward the frozen foods. “See you.”

He watched her walk away, saw the outline of her tight ass beneath her jeans, the material pulled provocatively in at the crack.

“Two-eighty-five.”

“What?” Doug turned around to face the cashier.

The young man smiled knowingly. “Two-eighty-five.”

Doug took out his wallet.

In bed that night, Tritia snuggled next to him, laying an arm across his chest, holding him close in a way that she hadn’t for quite some time. The dinner had been good and, more important, healthy. Trout and rice and asparagus stalks. She was back to her old nutrition-conscious self, and for some reason that made him feel more optimistic, less worried. Everything else might be going to hell, but at least they were going to be all right.

Her head shifted under the crook of his arm as she looked up at his face. “Do you still love me?” she asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Do you still love me?” Her voice was quiet and there was a seriousness in it he did not quite know how to take.

“Of course I love you.”

“You never say it anymore.”

“I didn’t think I had to.” He smiled. “God, we’ve been married for fifteen years. Why else would I put myself through this hell?”

“Be serious.”

“Look, if I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be with you.”

“It’s not that simple. Besides, I like to hear it sometimes.”

“Michelle,” he said. “That letter. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

She said nothing but held him tighter. He kissed the top of her head.

“I’m afraid,” she said finally.

“So am I.”