Ollie pulled Edie tight against him. "Don't forget me, you hear."
"Never," Edie promised. Behind them, the train conductor shouted the last call for boarding. Ollie pulled something out of his pocket and handed it over.
A letter.
"You haven't even gone yet," she mused, tucking it safely in her coat.
He cupped her cheek to hold her attention. "Wait three weeks before you open it."
"That's nonsense."
"Three weeks, understand. Not before," he urged. She nodded in response. "I'll be back before you know it, doll."
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart," he guaranteed and kissed her forehead before hopping onto the train. Three weeks, she reminded herself.
It'd been three weeks and not a word from Oliver. Edie was hiding under her duvet in tears. He'd completely forgotten about her. It'd been three whole weeks-
Three weeks.
She popped up in bed, grabbing the letter she'd kept by her bedside. She pulled the folded piece of paper out, reading it.
My darling,
By now you're going mad with distrust. I haven't written and you're sure I've moved on.
I haven't.
I needed three weeks to get everything into place. Take this letter and a basket to Ms. Mead's flower shop on 3rd.
I love you,
Ollie
She got dressed and took the letter straight to Ms. Mead's. When she walked in, the grey-haired woman offered her a kiss on the cheek and took her towards the back to a small bouquet of marigolds, chrysanthemums, and daisies.
"A spring bouquet for your new life," she added and handed her another letter. Edie thanked her profusely, laid the bouquet in her basket, and opened the new letter.
Dearest Edie,
Do you like the flowers?
Take this letter to Hardgrave's portrait shop. You're one letter closer to me, my love.
Affectionately,
Ollie
Hardgrave's was around the corner, but she'd never been. Portraits were expensive and often used for occasions she never had an interest in partaking.
"Edie, dear," he greeted. "Come." She followed him behind the curtain and was faced with a sheet covered easel.
"What is this?" she asked, folding her hands excitedly. Mr. Hardgrave pulled the sheet off to reveal a large portrait of Oliver in full color. "Oh, Ollie," she mused.
"It's yours," Hardgrave assured. "I have instructions to deliver it."
"Where?" she asked.
He wagged a finger at her. "That, I cannot share." She huffed, but couldn't be put out considering the gifts she'd been given. "Also," he remembered, "here you are." He pulled another letter from his pocket and passed it to her.
"This is too much," she enthused and snatched the letter. It came open easily and she read the new correspondence.
Edie,
You are doing wonderfully my dove. What do you think of my portrait? I could hardly sit still during, thinking about the look on your face when you saw it.
There is one more place I'd like you to go before the finale- Mrs. Bray's book shop. Follow my words.
Forever yours,
Ollie
"Isn't he everything?" she cooed and Mr. Hardgrave offered a hearty laugh.
"Go on, dear. Follow him."
Edie left the shop and made it to Bray's Books in record time. "Mrs. Bray, I don't mean to be blunt, but I'm too excited. I'd like my letter now," she announced the moment she stepped through the door.
The young bookkeeper came around the corner and shook her head. "Well, well, someone has their panties in a twirl," she teased and bent down behind her long wooden counter. A moment later she stood up with a book and a letter sitting on top.
Edie thanked her and held the book up for examination. The Rosary. The most popular book of the year, and Edie had been dying to read it. She cracked the spine to open the cover, reading over the title page with her lip between her teeth.
"Edie, I believe you're meant to read the letter now and the book later," Mrs. Bray advised.
She closed the book and chuckled as she put it in the basket. "Right, sorry." She opened the letter and read:
Most beautiful Edie,
You've done it. I am so proud of you. Now, if you will, take the book to your final destination.
20 East Redwood Rd
Soon,
Ollie
The address led her to a tall white building full of apartments. On the door hung a key with a note: 301. Laying against the door was the portrait. Edie picked it up and carried the heavy thing up two flights of stairs to apartment 301. She unlocked the door and lifted her head to a sight for sore eyes.
"Ollie," she beamed and dropped her load to run to him and wrap her arms around him. He picked her up and squeezed her, kissing her cheek and jaw.
"You made it."
She pulled back and level him with a proud gaze. "Of course, I did."
"What do you think?" he asked and held his arms out wide.
Edie spun around, taking it in. "It's beautiful."
"It's ours, if you'll have me."
She turned back to him and grinned. "You mean it?" In answer, Oliver bent down on one knee and pulled a box from his pocket.
"Edith Mary Lowell, be my wife." He opened the box on a small ring. Edie squealed and nodded frantically.
"Yes!"
He slipped the ring on her finger and stood up. "Can you see it?" he wondered. "Look." He went over to the door and picked up the portrait before walking to the mantle and placing it on the ledge. Then he picked up the basket and took the flowers out, placing them in a large tin on the window sill; finally, the book, which he placed on the empty bookshelf.
When he was done, he came over to Edie and took her hands in his, thumb rubbing the new ring on her finger. "What do you think?"
Edie leaned up to him. "It's perfect," she murmured and kissed him again.
