the hallway.
"Katherine Schaub?" he asked hopefully, producing an envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket.
Automatically, she extended her hand to take it. Then, abruptly, the smile disappeared and the blood drained from her face. She yanked her hand back as though the envelope was on fire. "I'm being served?" she shrieked, her hand coming to throat. "No fucking way! I am not Katherine Schaub. Never heard of her."
"Bu–"
She jumped back into her apartment and jerked the door closed, only to come up short when the man inserted his foot in the doorway.
"Ouch!" he hissed as the wood collided with this shoe, and his face turned red from pain. "Jesus."
Katherine hesitated, instantly feeling guilty for hurting him but then thought better of it and began to kick his shoe. "Get out! I paid my credit card bill." Her kicks moved to his ankle. "Don't you people ever give up?"
"Wait!" His face contorted in pain. "God almighty!" He stuck his arm out to hold the door and snatched his foot away, shaking it wildly and wincing. "I'm not a process server. I swear." His eyes begged her to believe him.
"Who are you then?" she asked, her eyes narrowed warily. Suddenly she wished she hadn't spent so many late nights watching all those A&E shows about serial killers.
When she appeared to calm a bit, he took a step backwards into the hall and put what he desperately hoped would be a safe distance between them.
Katherine audibly exhaled.
"I'm Ted," when he saw her eyes widen he quickly added, "not Bundy, by the way. He got the electric chair years ago."
She didn't appear convinced.
"Uh... Okay. I've been hired to give you this envelope." When her mouth flew open and she shot him a glare that had him worried she was going to kick him right in the balls, he held up a hand to forestall her. "I promise it's not a summons."
"Really?" She couldn't help but be skeptical after he'd refused to let her shut her door. "You're just a delivery guy?"
"I'm just here to deliver an invitation, honest to God."
Against her better judgment she took the envelope, rolling her eyes when she heard him let out a relieved breath. "Sorry about your foot." She shrugged as though the entire incident had been completely out of her control. "Let me get my purse. I–"
"No need for a tip," he said quickly, not giving her a chance to do or say anything further before he disappeared back down the hall.
Katherine flipped the envelope over in her hands, examining it curiously as she shut the door and made her way back to her sofa. It was addressed to "Katy," letting her know that whoever had sent it had to be someone who knew her very, very well or someone who didn't know her at all and had inadvertently used the diminutive from her childhood.
She tore open the envelope and removed a heavy-stock, white card. Her eyes scanned to the bottom of the page and then widened almost comically and her heart began to pound. A small piece of paper fell out of the note and onto her lap. She promptly ignored it. "I'll be goddamned," she whispered to herself as she focused on the small neat script that covered every inch of available surface.
Katy,
It's been forever. But I guess you know that. For me, forever has been filled with regret over the way our friendship ended. The way the Mayflower Club ended. My fault, I know, but I'm hoping that time hasn't run out on my chance to heal old wounds and renew the friendships that were more important than I had the sense to understand way back when.
It finally happened. One of us, me, to be precise, is about to hit the ancient number we all laughed about as children. With my birthday comes a promise that I'm going to selfishly hold you to. I know it was given from the heart then… please don't break it now.
The Langtrees own a small B&B just outside the city named Charlotte's Web. I hope to see you there. Oct. 24-26.
Gwen
Katherine swallowed thickly. "Christ." She dropped the card onto the cushion next to her and mechanically
"Katherine Schaub?" he asked hopefully, producing an envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket.
Automatically, she extended her hand to take it. Then, abruptly, the smile disappeared and the blood drained from her face. She yanked her hand back as though the envelope was on fire. "I'm being served?" she shrieked, her hand coming to throat. "No fucking way! I am not Katherine Schaub. Never heard of her."
"Bu–"
She jumped back into her apartment and jerked the door closed, only to come up short when the man inserted his foot in the doorway.
"Ouch!" he hissed as the wood collided with this shoe, and his face turned red from pain. "Jesus."
Katherine hesitated, instantly feeling guilty for hurting him but then thought better of it and began to kick his shoe. "Get out! I paid my credit card bill." Her kicks moved to his ankle. "Don't you people ever give up?"
"Wait!" His face contorted in pain. "God almighty!" He stuck his arm out to hold the door and snatched his foot away, shaking it wildly and wincing. "I'm not a process server. I swear." His eyes begged her to believe him.
"Who are you then?" she asked, her eyes narrowed warily. Suddenly she wished she hadn't spent so many late nights watching all those A&E shows about serial killers.
When she appeared to calm a bit, he took a step backwards into the hall and put what he desperately hoped would be a safe distance between them.
Katherine audibly exhaled.
"I'm Ted," when he saw her eyes widen he quickly added, "not Bundy, by the way. He got the electric chair years ago."
She didn't appear convinced.
"Uh... Okay. I've been hired to give you this envelope." When her mouth flew open and she shot him a glare that had him worried she was going to kick him right in the balls, he held up a hand to forestall her. "I promise it's not a summons."
"Really?" She couldn't help but be skeptical after he'd refused to let her shut her door. "You're just a delivery guy?"
"I'm just here to deliver an invitation, honest to God."
Against her better judgment she took the envelope, rolling her eyes when she heard him let out a relieved breath. "Sorry about your foot." She shrugged as though the entire incident had been completely out of her control. "Let me get my purse. I–"
"No need for a tip," he said quickly, not giving her a chance to do or say anything further before he disappeared back down the hall.
Katherine flipped the envelope over in her hands, examining it curiously as she shut the door and made her way back to her sofa. It was addressed to "Katy," letting her know that whoever had sent it had to be someone who knew her very, very well or someone who didn't know her at all and had inadvertently used the diminutive from her childhood.
She tore open the envelope and removed a heavy-stock, white card. Her eyes scanned to the bottom of the page and then widened almost comically and her heart began to pound. A small piece of paper fell out of the note and onto her lap. She promptly ignored it. "I'll be goddamned," she whispered to herself as she focused on the small neat script that covered every inch of available surface.
Katy,
It's been forever. But I guess you know that. For me, forever has been filled with regret over the way our friendship ended. The way the Mayflower Club ended. My fault, I know, but I'm hoping that time hasn't run out on my chance to heal old wounds and renew the friendships that were more important than I had the sense to understand way back when.
It finally happened. One of us, me, to be precise, is about to hit the ancient number we all laughed about as children. With my birthday comes a promise that I'm going to selfishly hold you to. I know it was given from the heart then… please don't break it now.
The Langtrees own a small B&B just outside the city named Charlotte's Web. I hope to see you there. Oct. 24-26.
Gwen
Katherine swallowed thickly. "Christ." She dropped the card onto the cushion next to her and mechanically
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