“I really appreciate

you calling.”

“No trouble.”

Charlie offered to drop the phone off since he was already running errands.

I gave him our address.

He repeated every number back carefully.

Before hanging up, he said,

“My grandfather always told me returning something doesn’t make you generous. It just means you did what you were supposed to do.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“Mail carrier for forty years,” Charlie said. “Never lost a letter.”

About fifteen minutes later, an older silver pickup pulled into our driveway.

There was a bumper sticker that read:

I BRAKE FOR TURTLES.

Charlie stepped out holding Julian’s phone.

He was probably in his mid-sixties.

Tall.

Thin.

Gray beard.

Jeans.

Flannel shirt.

Weathered hands.

He had the kind of eyes that wrinkled at the corners when he smiled.

“You must be Dani.”

“Daniella technically.”

He laughed.

“So he really does call you Dani.”