Page 17 of Unconventionally, Elle

Now

Thirty hours in the car and an excessive amount of Starbucks later, I made it to Boston in the heat of summer.

I'd had a few months to process all of the changes in my life, and I could honestly say September in Boston beats September in New Orleans.

I hadn't been to the condo since my grandmother's death, and the first step over the threshold felt like a punch to the stomach.

I cried for most of the first day and managed to eat some popcorn while watching Disney+ on my iPhone.

On my second day in the city, I picked myself up and began moving my furniture around the condo.

I ordered pizza, hung artwork, and scrolled through the Pottery Barn website for an unspeakable number of hours.

I told myself it was worth it, though, when my new bookshelves arrived, along with my muted gold curtains and oversized wool area rug. Yep, totally worth it.

While cleaning out the closet, I found a metal box on the very top shelf pushed all the way against the wall.

My tenant had been a shorter woman, so there was no way she would have noticed this.

I pulled the box down and stepped off the stool to see what was inside.

I never could have imagined the treasure I found--a box of letters!

My Dearest Willie,

I miss you. I hope the floor was exhilarating this week. You'll be away from the stock exchange and back here in just three weeks, my love. I can't wait any longer to tell you, I'm writing because I have the most fantastic news.

Remember that writing competition I entered for fun? The Literary Times Challenge? I heard back! My dear, I won! They told me that I won $1,000 and an opportunity to work with a publisher. The very one that works with Margaret Atwood. Oh, Willie, I'm so excited!

I talked to my parents, and they weren't altogether thrilled.

They still believe my writing is a waste of time. A woman's job is in the kitchen or with her husband, they said. My goodness, you know how that angers me.

I hope you will be proud, Willie. I love you and can't wait to be in your arms again.

Love,

Your Sweet D

There was one other letter behind the first. The rest of the stack was tied together. I shuffled the pages with tears in my eyes and read some more.

My Sweetest D,

I am extraordinarily proud of you. I never doubted your talent.

The floor is busy, as always. In fact, my love, I have some news of my own.

They are promoting me! We can finally live together here now that we can afford it.

Dearest, come live with me here in New York.

I already have a realtor looking for our new home, my bonus was very generous, and I promise that our lives are going to change for the best. Say you'll come live with me here?

In fact, we can finally start a family, and you'll never have to work, I swear it. No need to write your books and worry about your next paycheck or whether you can afford that fur coat I've seen you ogling at Bloomingdale's. I'll have it all taken care of.

Diana, I'm so thrilled to live my life with you. No more letters back and forth. We will finally truly begin our married life together, no more living apart. I'll be up this weekend, in fact, to help make arrangements.

All my love,

Willie

My eyes traced every loop and curve of their handwriting.

She gave it all up. For him. I knew the ending.

I was part of the story. But to hold the letter that had changed my grandmother's life--it was surreal.

I took the letters with me to the living room, where I still had boxes to unpack.

I opened the one labeled Pic Frames and found an empty eight-by-ten I'd packed from T.J.

Maxx. I put my grandmother's letter in first and my grandfather's behind it.

I don't know why, but I felt like this was important, and I wanted to keep this part of Grandma Di with me.

One morning I was sitting in my favorite part of the condo, my balcony.

Well, that and the exposed brick wall in the living room.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the fresh morning air.

Still nervous it wasn't real, I slowly opened my eyes and sighed with relief when Comm Ave was still four stories below me.

I held my coffee up to my lips and enjoyed a long, sinful sip while bright leaves fluttered to the ground.

I was about to go back inside with my coffee and get ready for a yoga class, but before I looked away, I noticed the mailman park and head toward my building.

Always excited for mail, I placed my coffee on the counter, put on my sandals, and went downstairs to greet him.

He noticed me walking up and turned to face me with a bright smile.

He gave me a wink and held out a small square package.

"This one's for you, Ms. Watson. Looks like someone likes to doodle.

" He chuckled as I took the parcel from his ink-stained hands.

I smiled back and flipped the package around.

It had Fragile written on it in permanent marker and then a few scribbly scenes of suns, rainbows, and a bird--I think--maybe a dog. Sarah.

"Thanks for this," I said, hugging it tightly to my chest. "You always bring the best mail."

He blushed.

"Have a great rest of your day. I really appreciate you."

He smiled gently and gave me a nod. Then he was back to sorting the mail and humming to himself.

I took the stairs back up, and once I shut the door, I sat on the couch with Sarah's present.

The package was light and covered in Priority tape.

It took me a whole three minutes to rip through the tape and bubble wrap and pull out a square framed canvas.

My heart skipped the tiniest beat as I stared at the beautiful small painting Sarah had created for me.

A card fell on the couch next to me, so I picked it up and read.

Dear Elle,

For your new home. I'm so proud of you, and I think your walls should be filled with happiness. Here's a happy memory that I cherish every single day.

Love you!

--S

I brushed my finger across the canvas. Two girls were holding hands. They wore long tan overcoats, and the blonde had her head resting on the brunette's shoulder. They--we--were standing in front of the Apollo Victoria Theatre in London. She'd even remembered it was Wicked .

After yoga, I grabbed a quick bite from a nearby sushi restaurant for lunch, but as I stood in front of my refrigerator hours later, I realized how pathetic it looked.

One shelf had a carton of eggs, old almond milk, and ketchup.

Without a doubt, my grandmother would have given me so much grief had she seen it.

Back on the couch with my computer heating up my lap, I decided to go on a mission to the grocery store.

I scanned over some recipes from accounts on social media and made a quick grocery list on my phone.

I went into my room and grabbed the closest T-shirt and a pair of leggings because there was no need to look cute.

Nothing exciting ever happened at the grocery store.

Next, I reached for my headphones, slipped on some white sneakers, and hurried out of the condo.

When I arrived, the produce section was packed. Granted it was five p.m., and my fault for coming at such a busy time, but damn, I couldn't even see the romaine lettuce. Apparently, everyone in Boston needed lettuce this evening.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone standing to the right of me, and when I turned my head, I saw piercing blue eyes staring back. A flush of heat rose to my cheeks, and I quickly decided to look at the avocados on my left.

I looked back up when the stranger walked past me to pick out a bunch of kale.

As he walked away, the smell of clean cotton and Christmas lingered in the air.

This man, this stranger, was the epitome of gorgeous.

His five-o'clock shadow lined his firm jaw, and his thick espresso-brown hair was well styled with a slight wave.

My knees betrayed me just by looking at him.

Those eyes, oh my God--I'd never seen such a crystal-blue color.

A small shopping basket hung on his muscular forearm while he picked out his kale and some arugula.

As if he knew I was looking, he glanced back at me with a playful grin on his face.

Embarrassed that I had been caught staring (again), I grabbed an avocado and turned around to rush--but not too obviously--into the closest aisle.

Once I found sanctuary by the cereal, I brought my hands to my cheeks and tried to cool them down.

Idiot , I thought. Why did you have to stare at him?

Officially mortified, my attention went to my clothes.

Holy shit, I forgot I was dressed like a college freshman, and to top it off, my bra was at home on the back of my desk chair. "Oh God." I groaned and rolled my eyes.

The most excitement I had expected at the store was a sale on avocados.

A few minutes later, I snuck around the aisle and scanned the produce section.

He was gone. I rushed to grab the lettuce and other vegetables I needed and walked with motivation to self-checkout.

On the way, I grabbed a bag of quinoa off of an endcap, along with some Oreos.

Thankfully, I didn't see Kale Guy again.

On the drive home, I was unable to shake the stranger from my thoughts--Kale Guy, as I had officially nicknamed him. He was gorgeous, sure, but I think what was really bothering me was that I hadn't noticed anyone that way since Jude.