The Handyman's Dream Read Free

Who do you think I am, the postmaster general? Do you want to hear about your sister or not?”
    “Oh, Mom, can’t you tell me about it tonight? I really need to get going,” he lied.
    “All right, all right,” she said, all aggrieved now. “Honestly, the two of you are going to send me to my grave. Just be here by six!”
    “I will, Mom,” he said patiently. “Bye.”
    “Good-bye!” she said, slamming the phone down.
    Ed, out of habit, moved the receiver away from his ear.
    Hmm. If someone sent me something I had to sign for, that just might be a way to get to talk to him. Not bad, not bad at all, he congratulated himself. It was definitely time to call Glen.

    * * * * *

    Ed had become friendly with Glen Mercer several years earlier during one of his trips to Carlton’s bar. Glen had made a few trips to Porterfield, but Ed usually drove into Fort Wayne to see Glen. They would go out to eat, occasionally to the movies, and would hit the bar together. Ed hadn’t seen much of Glen since the beginning of Glen’s hot and heavy romance with a young college guy named Mike. Ed couldn’t decide if he was jealous of Glen, or if he just plain didn’t like Mike. Either way, he’d been avoiding Glen since late summer. That night, when he finally escaped from his mother’s house, he called Glen.
    “You want me to do what?” Glen asked.
    “I need you to send me a certified letter. I don’t care what it says. I just want the mailman to come the door and ask for me to sign for it.”
    “I think it will say ‘you’re a jackass.’ Are you trying to tell me you have the hots for your mailman?” Glen’s voice seemed to carry a smirk.
    “Look, I’ll pay you back. I’m just asking you to do me this one favor. I’d do the same for you.”
    “Ed Stephens, you have been lonely far too long. Do you even have a clue if the mailman is gay?”
    “I’m hoping this will help me to find out.”
    “Good God! Ed, you need to move. Do you think I would have ever met Mike living in a town like that? No, I’d probably be chasing after the mailman!” Glen’s laughter cascaded through the phone line.
    Ed had noticed that Glen had gotten ever so smug since Mike had come along, and frankly, since Ed didn’t consider Mike any great prize, he didn’t have much patience with it.
    “I really appreciate what you are doing for me, Glen,” he said calmly. “You really are a good friend.”
    “Yes, I am. Because I’ll do it, only because I want to hear what happens. I’ll stop by the post office tomorrow on my lunch hour. And then you have to promise to call me the minute you talk to this guy, you hear?”
    “I promise.”
    “Good. Let me know, okay?”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Ed said. “Thanks, Glen.”
    Glen carried on for a while longer, mostly talking about Mike, and Ed listened with half his mind. The other half was thinking about the day Mailman Rick would knock on his front door.

    * * * * *

    If Glen went to the post office on Wednesday, Ed figured he’d get the certified letter on Thursday. Still, he didn’t see any reason not to stay around home on Wednesday afternoon. It wouldn’t hurt to get another look at Mailman Rick.
    The weather was still rainy and gloomy Wednesday afternoon. Ed settled in on his old sofa, a hand-me-down from his mother. He pulled the curtains back just enough to see out the window. The phone rang. Ed groaned, again debating whether he should answer it. Surely Norma wouldn’t call to bitch about his sister two days in a row. Then again, Ed realized, she just well might. The phone rang on, six, then seven times. He finally got up and answered it.
    “Ed? I need you to come over right away and look at this lamp my daughter gave me.” The caller was Mrs. West, one of his most elderly clients, a bit of a character who was given to making mountains out of molehills.
    “What’s the matter with it?” he asked, his eye on the front door.
    “Well, I went to turn it on and it gave me a