At least once a week, Willa felt differently about the mail. Usually, she checked it and sorted it: bills, junk, birthday cards. But she had days when the mail seemed promising. She walked out to the road to retrieve it, and with each step, grew a little more excited by the possibilities.
There were few real surprises - or sources of surprise in her life. She had one wild card, and the likelihood of receiving a wild card, or a tame one, for that matter, from the wild card, well, it was unlikely. If Pritt sent a piece of mail, then there'd be a trail. And Pritt was careful not to show up on the radar of anyone from her old life.
Pritt's mother stopped asking Willa about her daughter years ago. Pritt didn't want to be a part of her mother's empire, if you could call it that. She didn't like the term or the treatment and she wasn't sure about all the legalities. Pritt's mother had a good lawyer on her team. She had a police force and council and adequate protection.
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