“Well…” She cupped the warm mug with both hands and frowned at the envelope. “It’s not right to open another person’s mail, unless you’re a mom or dad and the kid’s young and you need to handle things for her, like a bank account or whatever…” She bit her bottom lip.

“That’s the problem, right? Linnie’s not a kid. And you, Sam, and I—we’re not the parents.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Visiting her old neighborhood was … instructive.”

“Rough place?”

“Beyond rough. I mean, Sam told me about Linnie’s difficult childhood, but until I actually stopped by Mary Tate’s place, I don’t know that that information really sank in. I used to think it wouldn’t be too hard for Linnie to clean up her act if enough friends rally around her, help and love her.” He slumped over his coffee. “But when I got a glimpse of her old world and what she’s up against, and when that Mrs. Tate widened the glimpse with a few details…” He shook his head.

Oh God, what kind of details? Maggie couldn’t bring herself to ask aloud. Linnie had made it plain her childhood had been a nightmare. She set down her mug. “We rally around Linnie because that’s what friends do. But she also rallies around us.” Like how she’d joined in on the road trip. Linnie never had any intention of visiting Baldwinsville. She’d gone just to support Maggie. “Hold on to the letter,” she said, “but don’t open it.”

“Okay.” He brushed the table with the side of his hand. “Sam came over when we got back. I, um … told him about the trip. I hope that’s okay.”

She nodded. They were best friends. She figured Caleb had probably given him the highlights, if the trip’s depressing events could be called that.

She sighed, mentally tallying up her botched missions.

“You know Sam wants the letter,” Caleb continued. “But the more I think about it, the less I want to give it to him. It doesn’t seem right.”

She stared out the window at the gray sky. Sam would be all over that letter. Then he’d be full of suggestions for Linnie. She felt the certainty of this in her gut. “The letter isn’t his to read. Tell Linnie you’ll hold on to it for a month, in case she changes her mind, but that you’re not opening it. If she wants it, it’s hers. If a few weeks pass and she doesn’t ask for it, toss it.”

“Okay.” He raked back his bangs. “I’m glad I asked for your advice.”

“Sure.” She shrugged.

He smiled shyly at her, then hastily lowered his gaze to his coffee.

But not hastily enough.

Maggie had seen the interest in his eyes. She quickly looked away, too, heat flaring under her skin.