Lucy frowned.
"Why not?"
Nora considered the question.
"I suppose I was afraid to find out."
Lucy stared.
"But if the man forgot to mail it, maybe it's still there."
Daniel smiled sadly.
"Sweetheart, that was forty-six years ago."
"I know."
She looked toward Nora.
"But people keep old things."
Nora went still.
Lucy continued.
"Grandpa Arthur has drawers full of receipts from 1979. He says they're important."
Daniel laughed.
"Arthur has receipts from the invention of fire."
Lucy grinned.
Then returned to the subject.
"Why don't we look?"
Nora stared at the name on the note.
Bluebird Motor Lodge.
She remembered the flickering sign.
The smell of bleach.
The tired clerk behind the desk.
The two dollars she handed him.
For decades, she had assumed the letter was lost.
But she had never investigated what happened to the motel.
She looked toward Daniel.
He studied her face.
Then shrugged gently.
"Couldn't hurt to find out."
Lucy smiled triumphantly.
"See?"
Nora laughed softly.
Then reached for her laptop.
And a search that had been delayed for forty-six years finally began.
The Bluebird Motor Lodge had closed in 1998.
Its property was later sold, and most of the original buildings were demolished.
A small roadside market occupied part of the former site.
The original motel sign had been donated to a local historical society.
Several photographs survived.
Nora found one showing the reception office as it looked in the early 1980s.
She stared at the screen.
The counter.
The bell.
The wooden desk.
The wall behind the clerk.
It was the room where she had handed over the letter.
She remembered every detail.
Lucy leaned closer.
"Is that it?"
Nora nodded.
"Yes."
Daniel studied the picture.
"What about the man who worked there?"
Nora shook her head.
"I don't remember his name."
Lucy opened another page.
An old newspaper article identified the proprietor as Harold Finch.
Daniel looked toward Nora.
"Does that sound familiar?"
She considered.
"Maybe."
The historical society's website mentioned that some furnishings had been retained by members of Finch's family after the business closed.
Lucy pointed.
"Look!"
Nora leaned closer.
The article referred to an antique reception desk preserved by Harold's daughter.
The desk appeared in a photograph taken years earlier.
Nora stared.
It looked exactly like the one she remembered.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Then Daniel said gently, "We should contact them."
Nora nodded.
Her hands were trembling.
She opened the society's contact page.
Wrote a careful message.
Explained that she had stayed at the motel as a teenager in October 1980 and had given a letter to the desk clerk for mailing.