“That’s kind.” He held out his hand. “I can take it.”
“We have to hand it to her directly,” said Valerie, hoping that if it wasn’t true, the man didn’t have enough detailed knowledge of Canada Post legalities to challenge her. She buzzed with anticipation.
“Bo?” called a woman’s voice from inside the house. “Who is it? The sauce is going to burn.”
“Some people have mail for you.”
A woman appeared at the door, shadowed by the threshold.
“Yvette Tsui?” asked Nico finally.
She lifted her face and stepped into the sun. “That’s me.”
Nico and Valerie stared in shock.
They’d finally found Yvette Tsui.
Roger was going to lose it.
Because it wasn’t their Yvette.
First, this woman looked like she was only in her late thirties.
Second, she was white, with blue eyes and pale-brown hair brushing her shoulders.
“You’re Yvette?” asked Valerie, glancing at Nico. “You?”
The woman burst out laughing. “Last time I checked. How can I help you?” She squeezed her husband’s hand. “I’m good.”
He left to rescue his sauce.
“I thought you’d be Chinese,” Valerie blurted. She covered her face with her hands, feeling the heat on her cheeks. “That’s so rude. I’m sorry.”
The woman—Yvette—waved it off. “I get that a lot. When I married Bo, I took his last name. He said you had mail for me?”
In her surprise at meeting Yvette, Valerie’s brain had slightly scrambled. “Mail?” she echoed.
“The letter,” said Nico with an urgent look. “That we were dropping off.”
Right, their cover story. Valerie made a show of looking through her purse. “Oh no!” she said. “I’m such a mess. I must have forgot it at home. I hope it wasn’t important.”
“Yvie, we’re ready!” Bo’s voice called.
“Coming!” Yvette smiled at them. “Sorry, I have to go, but feel free to send the letter back to the post office. I wasn’t expecting anything, so I’m not worried it was important.” She was already turning as she shut the door. “It was nice of you to drop by.”
That was it.
The two of them walked to the car in silence, then got in. Nico frowned at the house as if it had pulled a bad prank and Valerie felt exhausted. The meeting had been so anticlimactic it was almost unbearable.
“Roger’s going to be crushed,” she said finally. “Should we tell him now or wait until we get back?”
Nico pulled his phone out. “Now. It would be cruel to make him wait.” A moment later, he held up the screen to show Roger’s thumbs-upreply and Valerie winced at the unnaturally brisk response and no follow-up call. He must be hurting.
There was nothing more for them to do so Nico started the car to drive out of town. They were promptly caught in traffic, which was predictable, given how the rest of the day had gone. Valerie craned her neck out the window to look for a reason—maybe aT. rexhad wandered on the road—but saw nothing but volume. At this rate, it would be late by the time they arrived back in the Mariposas. She shuddered with distaste at the thought of driving through the night when her butt was already numb from sitting. While movies romanticized night drives as full of adventure, more often they were filled with petty sniping from exhausted people strung out on a poisonous mix of caffeine and fast food.
Plus, after that letdown, surely they deserved a break.
“What if we don’t go back?” she proposed.
