All language subtitles for +Signed.Sealed.Delivered.To.The.Moon.And.Back.2025

In a world where privacy now seems archaic

and secrets are revealed with the press of a button--

...how does one share the deepest part of themselves

with any hope of keeping them

between just one heart and another?

It is with the slower but surer

gold standard of human communication...

When does he go on?

Next.

...The personal, hand-written letter,

signed, sealed,

and, one way or another, delivered.

Hope he plays that one about the moon.

I love that one.

Me too.

I heard you singing in the restroom the other night.

You're great. Why aren't you up there?

Stage fright, I guess.

I've seen 'em all, and you're the real deal.

Hey!

It's a good crowd.

Yeah.

Why don't you come up for "Moon"?

No, I told you.

I am happy being in the background.

I mean it, Nate.

You are a mystery.

But I love you.

Okay, guys! Next up--

he just got a recording contract,

and it's his last gig before he heads off to L.A.

Trust me, someday, you'll be saying,

"I was there at Starmaker's, before he was big."

Let's give a great big Denver welcome

to Nate Holloway!

Thank you.

Can I see your I.D.s, please?

Your suitcase is in the trunk.

What is that?

Just drive.

Ladies, can I see your I.D.s?

Can I see your I.D.s, please?

Thank you, Denver!

It's been a wild ride out here on the road,

and I want to give a big shout-out

to a very special person who's made life on the road

a lot easier to travel.

She's changed my life--

- No, no, no, no, no. - ...And my music.

I want to introduce you to Tracy--

- Hi! - Hey!

This is a treat.

Saturday morning brunch! What a great idea!

We just wanted to have some special time with you

to talk about...

all sorts of things!

We were just saying the same thing.

Speaking of catching up--

My dear friends!

Ramon!

What an unexpected Saturday delight.

A special occasion?

- Yes. - Don't tell me!

Your adoption-baby is about to be born?

Oh, not yet.

We're still about a month or so away.

Marvelous!

May I tempt you with some kiwi parfaits

or... alpine blintzes?

"Alpine blintzes"?

But before I alert our chef, Salvatore,

to your order,

would you indulge me a moment?

We found this stuck behind the bar,

last month, during some repairs.

Oh!

Stamped but never mailed?

Oh, it looks really old.

Nope. See?

That's a Maya Angelou commemorative stamp from 2015.

"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer.

A bird sings because it has a song."

Aw, that's nice!

Ramon, consider this officially delivered

to the Dead Letter Office of the U.S. Postal System.

We shall proceed accordingly.

Of course.

And now... blintzes!

You know...

this used to be a club.

It was where you would go if you wanted

to see up-and-coming singers before they got famous.

Mm-hmm. Starmaker's, remember?

Oh, if you got in, you were very cool.

Oh, what was it like?

Oh, I didn't actually get in,

but I did deliver

a certified letter to the front door, though.

Well, whoever wrote this

must have seen some amazing people sing here.

Maybe whoever wrote that is famous.

Mm. Yeah, well, this envelope's not gonna be much help.

Partial P.O. box, half a zip, name's ripped off.

Feels like a reader.

Agreed.

We shall open and analyze,

first thing Monday.

How about now?

Uh, off-property, at, uh, brunch?

Come on!

We're an elite task force

with wide powers of postal discretion,

and we are willing to work on a Saturday.

All right.

Mm-hmm.

Hmm.

Uh...

"Hey, it's me."

Not an auspicious start.

"Believe it or not,

"I'm actually here in Denver, probably somewhere close.

Hard to believe you are so near and yet so far.

I'm safe, and I'm eating my veggies.

My hair was almost down to my waist for a while,

but I've finally cut it-- of course.

I've been writing a lot,

and I wrote one about you and me and the moon

that you-know-who is actually going to record.

Yes, we're still together.

He's so sweet, so talented.

Hard to believe

I've been on the road with him for almost a year,

but now it looks like

he might actually make it in this business.

We're so in love,

but if he goes viral and hits it big,

then, sooner or later, I'd have to make a decision,

and I don't know what to do.

I could stay with him,

but you know what that would mean,

and I don't know if I could handle that.

Can we do a pass this week?

Same time, same place?

I really miss you,

and maybe I'm all grown up,

but I still need your advice,

because 'telling it to the moon'

just doesn't take the place of the real thing.

Love, Me."

Oh, my, I certainly enjoy a good moon metaphor.

There's no address and no signature.

I could try an impression transfer

of the address from envelope to letter.

What does that mean-- "do a pass"?

Why does this letter sound like nothing...

and everything?

As if it's written in code.

- To her mother! - Hmm?

"Maybe I'm all grown up, but I still need your advice."

And who else cares

- if she's eating her vegetables? - Mm-hmm!

- Right. - Ah... mimosas!

- Oh! - With my compliments.

None for me, Ramon, but thank you.

Me neither,

but that was very sweet!

What is a brunch

without fresh orange juice and a splash of champagne--

...unless...

Ah! Let me bring a pitcher of mango smoothies.

Very healthy.

Uh, what about me? I like mimosas!

We're working, Norman! Now.

Oh, right. Not to mention, we're--

So, you guys, what are you celebrating?

Oh, well, uh, we have some news,

but you said you had something to celebrate, too,

so please, you go first.

Oh, no, you go.

- No, I insist. - Let me guess!

You've picked a name for the baby?

Well, yes, actually-- we're gonna name her

- after my mother, Sunny. - Aw!

But the bigger news is that we're expecting.

Yes, you are!

And that's certainly worth celebrating.

You're not the only ones.

We're expecting right along with you.

Oh, I know. You've always been so supportive,

but we're actually expecting.

As are we-- expecting!

Expecting what?

A baby, Norman!

No, we just said that,

except we're actually expecting another one.

How many babies is this mother having?

One, but we're expecting too.

You're expecting two because we're expecting one.

That's what we thought, too.

Now there are three?

- Who's expecting three babies? - You are! I think?

Well, this is certainly unexpected.

Well, that's why we wanted to bring you here,

to surprise you.

Well, three babies is certainly a surprise!

And now there are four!

What is happening?

Mimosas.

You're not drinking mimosas.

Neither are you!

We're pregnant?

- What? - Congratulations!

- You're pregnant! - I'm pregnant!

- Oh, my goodness! - You're pregnant!

- What? - We're all pregnant!

Of course, we should've told you sooner.

Uh, same with us. We just wanted to be sure.

I think we're gonna need a bigger nursery in here.

Well, it's to be continued.

In the meantime,

since we are here on Saturday to do some work,

what say we do some?

Norman?

Handwriting indicates female, early 20s.

Nothing remarkable about the stationery,

but unusual that someone her age would choose to use any at all.

Mm-hmm! Statistics say

that less than 1% of 25-year-olds

have mailed out a personal letter

in the last eight years,

and 78% of them

are less concerned about privacy

than efficiency.

Huh.

Well... I weep for our future.

Whoever wrote that letter

definitely didn't want to risk being hacked,

and didn't you think that it was strange

the way the girl talked about cutting her hair,

as if it was assumed that she would do it?

And why would you mention "being safe"

unless there was a chance that you wouldn't be?

Well, if the letter was indeed written years ago,

then the issue of safety is somewhat moot.

There must have been other letters written

since then.

Unless...

something happened

and she never wrote her mother another letter ever again...

...and her mother is still out there...

worrying about her baby--

...because it doesn't matter

if her child is 21 or 22 or 25.

A mother always worries about her baby, and--

And a mother needs to know these things,

'cause something like that could drive her crazy!

And if it drives her crazy, I won't be able to sleep.

If we can't deliver this letter, and if I don't sleep--

Are you saying we have to do this

because you're pregnant?

Yes!

Uh, and may I interject here?

Just purely on a professional level?

Oh, please-- do.

Um...

people use "Forever" stamps all the time

uh, because they're forever.

It doesn't mean

it was affixed to the envelope at the same year.

We shall take this up Monday morning,

but for now, I'm going to meet with my dad

to go over resumes for architects.

This is so exciting!

You're actually building

your dream postal history museum.

Well, it will belong to the citizens of Colorado.

The O'Toole Foundation

is offering a leadership gift to get the ball rolling.

We still have much fundraising to do.

Wait! Have you told Joe about the baby yet?

We're going to tell him now.

Would you consider one more architect for the job?

"Hans Van Skaack"?

One of my foster-care cousins.

He's a highly respected, um,

architect of museums and public spaces.

And a donut shop drive-through, hmm?

Kansas City landmark!

I look forward to hearing his thoughts.

This is just wonderful!

Wow!

I'm so happy for you guys.

For me, too!

Oh, we love you so much, Joe.

Oh, ho!

So we have a lot to celebrate tonight.

Dinner! My treat.

Absolutely.

Just in the meantime, it's naptime for me.

Oh, yeah.

Okay.

Oh, ho.

Ha!

Um...

six promising architects for the museum.

Ah!

Oh, and one more.

Uh, this is another cousin of Norman's.

How many cousins does Norman have?

Um, myriad.

You know, you've taken on quite the project here.

I mean, we have location... but what do we put in it?

What's going to bring people in?

Well, um...

I have an idea.

Paris has the Mona Lisa,

the Vatican has the Sistine Chapel,

but Denver will have

the crown jewel of postal history,

an heirloom which has been

passed down through the O'Toole family

since the 1800s.

Benjamin Franklin's letter of application

to become the second Postmaster of Philadelphia!

I forgot all about that!

Yeah!

The letter should be up here.

It's a brown mahogany chest.

And it's been up here how long?

Oh, gosh, I can't remember.

We put a lot of stuff up here after your mother left.

Look at this!

My children's books.

Look. "A Child's Garden of Verses."

"Simple Stories From Shakespeare."

"Heroes of the Post Office!"

Dad! Here it is.

Yeah.

Let's, uh, get it downstairs and out of this dust.

Happy Monday, everyone.

Congratulations!

This is so exciting!

Oh! Uh...

More babies! I'm so happy for you guys.

Thank you.

So we have a lot to do today.

Oh, oh. Yes, yes, yes. Let me take her.

Hi, baby.

So... let's begin, shall we?

I got an impression-- it's not much--

a...

Denver zip code and part of a name--

Marla? Marlene? Mary?

Not much yet.

So, um,

if we can't identify the recipient,

we must locate the sender.

Charley?

Um...

having been born in this century,

perhaps you can glean

something more current from it than we could?

Thank you.

Did you and your father take a look at Hans's resume?

Yes, we did.

He has an interview tomorrow.

Quite an impressive resume, Norman.

Um, your family seems to be experts in their fields.

Yeah, very impressive, you know,

considering that none of us are actually related.

Nevertheless,

having chosen each other to be family,

you certainly have chosen well.

Shh, shh. Shh, shh, shh.

Whoa. This is wild!

It sounds here like they're saying they wrote

"Tell It to the Moon," except Nate Holloway wrote it.

Nate Holloway?

"The" Nate Holloway?

I love him!

Of course! How could I miss that?

Uh... I'm sorry, can we back up?

I-- What did Nate Holloway tell the moon?

And who is he, exactly?

Nate Holloway?

Wait, he's a pretty famous singer-songwriter right now.

"Tell It to the Moon" was his first big hit,

- a few years ago. - Mm-hmm. Yeah.

"Because if we can't say it in the here and now,

we'll tell it--"

"...To the moon."

Didn't the letter say something about telling it to the moon?

Yes. She also said,

"I wrote one about you and me and the moon."

Anyone can mention lyrics from a famous song.

Not if it hasn't been recorded yet.

Nate Holloway's last performance at Starmaker's

was a year before

"Tell It to the Moon" hit the top 10.

Oliver, she had to be there.

I assume Mr. Holloway

is now performing at larger venues?

Yeah.

Oh! He is headlining at the Bellisario in Las Vegas.

We have two appointments first thing tomorrow morning,

but if we leave right after,

we could catch his show.

Hmm. The book I'm reading

about what to expect when you're having a baby

mentions nothing of Las Vegas...

...but it might be expeditious.

- Yes! - Yes!

Road trip!

I don't see any red flags so far,

but let's face it--

this is a geriatric pregnancy.

Sorry-- "geriatric"?

It just means that she's not a 20-something, that's it.

There's just a little more risk.

There can be,

so we need as much information as possible

just to be prepared.

Now, I don't see any big issues in Shane's family history.

Healthy as a non-20-something horse.

How about you?

Oh, uh...

I'm unsure of the actual biological nature

of my parental lineage.

My absent mother passed

after eating some bad fish in Kuala Lumpur,

and I have no information regarding

my biological progenitor

other than he passed at an advanced age,

10 years ago.

Got it.

Well, we'll schedule some additional testing,

just to rule out any surprises.

Well, this certainly has been a...

a surprise, a very happy one.

Those are the best kind.

Do you have time for a blood draw?

Oh, sure! We just have to be on the road before 10.

We're driving to Las Vegas, and I haven't packed yet.

Oh, I'm sensing

that we could remove these walls and create a meditation atrium,

where one can ponder the scope and legacy

of postal history.

What do you think?

I think Oliver is going to love you.

Of course, converting this home into a museum

will require approval

from the local historical society.

Yes.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Hey, there you are.

Uh, Oliver, Shane, this is Hans Van Skaack--

the architect that Norman recommended.

Hi, Hans!

Forgive me.

Our friends are picking us up for a trip to Las Vegas,

and we haven't packed yet!

Of course.

Hans has some pretty progressive ideas

about how to turn this home into a museum.

Oh, I hope so.

We'll need something unique to anchor the museum--

a rare stamp or historic document,

something previously unseen

by the discerning postal community--

a-a-- a crown jewel

to greet us

as a shaft of light

strikes the treasure right in the atrium

and whispers, "This--

This is the gold standard of human communication."

We gotta go! RV's double-parked.

- Hi, Hans. - Hi.

- Bye, Hans. - Bye.

Hans,

you're a man after my own heart.

I believe I do have

the iconic item you might be looking for.

However, um, I do need a moment

with my father before we leave town.

Oh, of course.

Uh, I'll go measure the den.

So, uh, the prenatal appointment went very well.

Um... they asked me my family history,

and I realized I couldn't tell them.

Oh. Uh...

let's see.

Uh, I-I didn't know much about your mother's side,

and I didn't know much about Harvey Schmidtz, either,

which was the way your mother wanted it,

of course, but, uh...

Mm. Hold on.

Hi, Joe! Bye, Joe!

Bye.

Honking! People are honking.

Yeah, we're coming.

Oliver-- go, pack.

Oliver, please pack.

Why don't you take this with you?

Oh.

"For Oliver someday."

It's from your... other father.

Are you saying this is a gift to me

from Harvey Schmidtz?

Uh, it's been up in the attic for a while.

It was with your mother's things when she died.

I don't know if you'd call it a gift.

Maybe?

You'll have to decide that,

but it might give you some insight into the man.

Maybe I should've given it to you sooner,

but now that you're gonna be a dad,

it feels like "someday" just came.

What is it?

Mr. O'Toole!

We'll talk when you get back.

Maybe it's the patent

to another one of his inventions.

Or photographs.

Although, I can't imagine him...

um, sending anything documenting their affair.

You'll never know, unless you open it.

- Oh. Dinosaur museum coming up! - Ooh!

Let's stop.

They've got a half a T-Rex

and a couple of pterodactyls in there.

Is there an atrium?

Uh, yeah...

and a diorama with, uh, somethin'...

eating something.

Ah, well.

How are you feeling?

Wonderful. Never better!

Very hungry.

How about you?

Oh, I feel wonderful in the, uh,

"We're having a baby" sort of way,

but not in the, "I'm pregnant

and this baby has hijacked my brain, my emotions, and--

my gastrointestinal tract" sort of way.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Yeah, well,

it helps to keep my mind on something else,

like the letter from Starmaker's.

Mm-hmm!

That is someone who doesn't want to be found.

Well, being on tour would keep her

from staying in one place for too long.

It's hard to find someone who keeps moving around.

Let's hope Nate Holloway can help us.

Well, if we can get in to see him, that is.

Oh... we will.

We have all-access backstage VIP passes

and a private meet-and-greet between shows.

Wait, how did you--

No! You did not hack into the ticketing system.

I am a pregnant woman

with 8,000 gigabytes that say I did.

Oh, wow!

It's beautiful, isn't it?

Oh, look at the fountain!

- Look! - Yeah!

I see it.

"Over The Moon."

As soon as Nate walks off stage,

you've got three minutes before his encore.

You are limited to one selfie,

no autographs,

and no physical contact,

unless he engages. Actually, we're not here

to engage in anything with Mr. Holloway

other than official business.

It's your V.I.P. experience.

Come on!

Uh, Nate, this is the O'Toole party.

- Hey! - Uh, Mr. Holloway

my name is Oliver O'Toole, these are my colleagues,

and we comprise a task force

of the United States Postal System.

I'm confused. You're not fans?

Well, some of us are.

We loved your show!

- I like the part when you fly. - Yes!

Mr. Holloway, your notable, uh, performance notwithstanding,

our purpose here

as representatives of the Dead Letter Office

has led us to you in the pursuit of

delivering a letter

apparently composed by someone connected to you.

Forgive me, I get a lot of letters.

But this letter wasn't written to you.

We believe it was written to the mother of someone

who references some of the lyrics

in one of your songs.

Lots of people listen to my songs.

Well, this person quoted "Tell It to the Moon"

a-a year before it was released.

And the letter was found in Starmaker's.

Starmaker's?

It was a very popular, uh, club in Denver.

You performed there several times.

Wow... I barely remember that.

Well, this person was there,

and they claim that they wrote that song.

You'd be amazed how many people come out of the woodwork

once you're successful.

Maybe if I read the letter?

Oh, no. I'm afraid policy forbids that.

Yeah, but if you could think

of anyone that might think of themselves

as a collaborator in your music?

No, not at all.

Well, the letter also

talks about somebody the writer was kind of close to--

Okay, uh, Nate, it's your encore.

Time's up, folks!

But thanks for coming.

- Sorry I wasn't much help. - If you remember anything else,

please, please don't hesitate to call us.

We're concerned

there's a safety concern that might r-require attention.

- Enjoy the show! - Uh-huh.

All right, thank you.

Something doesn't feel right.

Yeah, did you see his face when we mentioned Starmaker's?

Yeah, he may be a great singer, but he is not a very good actor.

Me thinks the rock star doth protest too much.

He puts on a good show!

Whoo!

Whoo-hoo!

Where are Norman and Rita?

I got them tickets

to the Natural History of Elvis Museum.

At 11:00 at night?

This is Las Vegas, darling.

You know...

this box...

isn't gonna open itself.

What's the matter?

I'm just wondering

why my dad didn't give it to me years ago.

Joe O'Toole is a wise man.

Trust the timing, darling.

You know, I think we made him very nervous.

My dad?

Nate Holloway.

Which tells me he knows more than he's letting on.

But we have no reason to believe he was lying to us.

Actually, we do.

"Holloway points to the early years

spent on the road

as his best preparation for stardom.

'I played every honky-tonk

and underground club in the country,

lots of tough rooms,

like Lana Lu's in Seattle and Sweet's in Austin,

but Starmaker's in Denver

always had the best audiences.'"

Oliver...

that doesn't sound like a guy

who barely remembers being there.

Hmm.

He still has a midnight show.

It's very serious, Mr. Holloway.

Feeding false information to government officials

is a federal offense.

I really don't see how the Post Office

has anything to do with some deluded fan

who thinks she wrote one of my songs.

Well, first of all,

we are required to follow every avenue

in order to deliver a letter that we deem essential,

and given the content, this meets that criteria.

And secondly,

we never identified the writer of that letter as female.

You just did.

It was just a guess.

No, it wasn't.

Mr. Holloway, it's becoming clear to us

that we've stumbled onto something more

than "just a letter" written by a fan

obsessed with a celebrity.

What I'm trying to decide is...

whether you're protecting her or yourself.

But if you don't tell the truth,

it's out of our hands--

we can't protect anyone.

Can we keep this between us?

We can't make promises,

but...

discretion is paramount to our work.

I'm protecting her.

She wrote "Tell It To The Moon"

and almost every other song that people think I've written.

And her name?

Tracy.

Tracy Reo.

That probably isn't even her real name,

but it's the one I knew her by.

And you were in love with her?

We met backstage at a club in Kansas City.

I'd seen her hanging around for a couple of nights.

She looked like a runaway.

I guess she was, in a way.

She was tired and hungry, scared.

But...

she had this song in her hand that she said I needed to hear,

and I listened

and fell in love with her talent and her music.

And her.

And her.

And we decided to pool our resources

and try to make it in the music business together.

And you did.

Why didn't Tracy?

I could never get her to perform.

She's an amazing singer...

more talented than me,

but she'd only write songs

because she was hiding from something or somebody,

and didn't want to be recognized.

I didn't understand at the time.

Then we had this big fight in Denver--

I want to give

a big shout-out to a very special person.

She's changed my life and my music!

I want to introduce you to Tracy--

Excuse me.

Tracy, stop.

I told you not to point me out.

What are you talking about?

I got to get to the bus station.

No, you're not leaving! I love you.

If you love me, you would've done what I asked.

Whatever I did, I won't do it again.

I know, because I have to leave.

Whatever made her leave,

I could tell she didn't want to.

Where are you going?

I don't know. It doesn't matter.

- Tracy! - Look.

It's not your fault, okay?

It's...

There's a reason I don't put myself out there.

There's a reason I don't get online

or have a bank account.

There's a reason I live off the grid!

Look, I've never asked till now,

but are you in trouble?

Please don't go there, because I can't tell you.

All I've ever dreamed of since I was a kid

was to just sing my songs for people,

and if I can't,

I'm so happy it's you who's singing them for me.

So this is it? I never see you again?

No.

But check your mail.

And I never saw her again.

But the songs--?

The songs...

Every once in a while, I get a song in the mail.

No letter, just the music.

But I record it.

Almost every one is a hit.

Then you take all the credit?

That's the way she wants it,

but every dime those songs make is waiting for her

when she's ready to stop hiding.

And when would that be?

I don't know...

maybe never.

It's hard...

singing those songs, you know?

I don't know if she gets it,

but I send her some cash every month

to stay safe from... whatever, whoever it is.

And what's the address that you send that to?

Mr. Holloway...

we are bound by law

to deliver the letter she wrote,

and she seems to be our only link.

So...

...what is the address where you send the money?

There's no address.

Every song she sends, just has a P.O. box

and a zip code at the bottom.

They change a lot.

This is the last one.

The first numbers here are the box number.

The last five are always the zip.

These days, I've been sending everything to this one.

82007.

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

That's it... just a P.O. box.

I only address it to "Current Boxholder".

Thank you.

You have all this--

a life full of fans and groupies,

everything you dreamed of...

...and you still carry a torch

for the one girl that you can't have.

Yeah.

Dear Oliver...

I think of you so often

and, over the years,

have written letters to you

in the hope

that they may be useful as you grow up,

or at the very least,

allow me to feel like the father I wish I could be.

I was born in Louisville, Kentucky.

I consider myself a Renaissance man.

As a child, I read the classics.

I love taking things apart and putting them back together.

And if you find yourself clinging to the Oxford comma,

as I do,

then you are truly the son I imagine you to be.

His introductory letter

was just revelatory and eloquent.

He loved Shakespeare,

which must explain my affinity for the Bard.

Do you know he could read Latin

and invented an electric letter opener?

I'm proud of you.

Opening that first letter wasn't easy.

No, it wasn't, but once I started,

it was as if I had written the letter myself.

There are dozens here.

There's, uh...

oh, your first date,

your, uh, high-school graduation,

your first job,

and there is a letter

for each of life's major events.

I wish I could have gotten them sooner.

You have them now.

Let's get that blood circulating!

Ah.

Oh, I figured out

a way for us to raise money for the postal museum.

Great. What?

Every year, there's an all-female rodeo

that raises money to support

the Famous Cowgirls of Wyoming Museum.

It's like a huge party, but with cattle.

We should have one!

- A rodeo? - A fundraiser.

A gala!

But with stamps, instead of cows.

Wow, we could do that.

Yes.

You know, you've only had a couple crackers

since we left Vegas.

Do you want some?

Not in this trimester, but thanks.

All tanked up!

Oh!

Oh!

Welcome to Mailboxes-A-Plenty,

where your privacy is our priority.

We need to speak to your manager.

Why?

We have reason to believe

that the person that owns Box 1013

could be in harm's way,

and we need an address.

That's why people have P.O. boxes, buddy--

so they don't want rando people knowing where they live.

That's why we need to speak to your manager, "buddy".

She's gone for the day.

Um...

...if someone puts a stamp on a letter,

we have authority...

- Mm. - ...Aplenty.

W-We'll talk more when we get back.

Well, Ramon says

that he has done a million galas and has amazing ideas.

I have no doubt!

We should get started on PR for the museum,

make it Denver's go-to event of the year.

Do you think Norman has a cousin who works in publicity?

Do you know that there are 43 letters here?

One for almost every year of my life?

We got it!

- What's the billing address? - No address,

uh, but the box-holder's name is "Jane K. Carter".

Wait, what? Not Tracy Reo?

- Nope. - And whoever Jane is,

she's had the same P.O. box for the last two years,

and she always pays cash to renew it.

So, uh, can Jane Carter and Tracy Reo

be one and the same?

We can find out.

Apparently, she checks her box every morning

at 11:00 a.m.

Oliver, "Jane Kary Carter"

died in Laramie, Wyoming

in 2004, at six weeks old.

Tracy would be about that age now.

I think Tracy Reo adopted a different identity

to protect her own.

Great work, everyone.

You know...

I think we need to get hotel rooms now.

Oh, or maybe...

something better!

My worst nightmare has come true.

I'm sitting on a folding chair in Wyoming,

pregnant...

smelling--

...pulled pork.

Mm!

You know, when I was 10,

my mother was our Girl Scout leader.

Everybody loved sitting around the campfire,

listening to her tell ghost stories.

Hers were always the best, because she knew the ghosts.

Your mother was one of a kind...

or maybe several.

I wish she was here to help us when we adopt Sunny.

So have you settled on a name for this little one?

Oh...

We keep trying to make a list,

but every time we hear one we like,

it's always better than the others.

And what's today's winner, hmm?

"Cheyenne."

- Oh! - Oh...

I wonder what Tracy's real name is?

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Or would it?

Does changing your name really change who we are?

I don't think so. I think we'd all smell the same.

Are you gonna eat that?

It's all yours.

Great!

11:00. Should be any time now.

Oh!

"When you meet the love of your life."

Oh, van approaching!

3:00!

This is so exciting.

Norman, did you see who's driving?

Uh, no.

There's something on the back window.

A disability parking permit?

Oh, no! No, get that away from me.

Huh? Oh, sorry!

Oh, she's getting out!

Oh, she looks suspicious.

Oh, she's looking over here!

Why is she driving a wheelchair-accessible van?

Not Tracy... or not Jane? Maybe that's not her van.

Maybe she stole it.

Oh...

she's checkin' the mail.

If we're gonna take her, we take her down now!

We're not taking anyone down.

We must be rigorous with our next move,

otherwise we'll scare her,

and she'll go back on the run.

Oh, she's comin' out!

She's getting in the van!

Oh, she's backing up!

Norman, follow that van.

Oh, there she is!

May I help you?

Uh, my name is Oliver O'Toole, and these are my colleagues.

We're from the United States Postal Service.

You have a beautiful voice.

Thanks.

Uh, Bach, I believe?

Wohl mir, dass ich Jesum habe?

Right.

Sorry, what can I do for you?

We are trying to deliver a letter.

Oh, I can give it to Mrs. Slocum.

I'm her caregiver.

It's not actually for Mrs. Slocum.

It's not even for you.

It was written by you-- Tracy--

or whatever your name actually may be.

What did Nate tell you?

Only that you left because you were scared of something.

We don't want to disrupt your life, Tracy,

but I know from experience,

no matter what you do,

there really is no such thing as a secret.

Sooner or later, it'll come out.

It's just up to you how you want your story told.

I grew up in Chicago...

and we were actually a pretty happy family,

until my dad started gambling.

I... I had a family like that.

So you know

that, sooner or later, the money runs out,

someone gets scared, and then angry, and then...

people get hurt.

My dad robbed a bank.

I was 14,

and one day, my dad calls from work,

and says he's taking the family

on a two-week vacation--

to make everything up to us.

My mom didn't want to go,

but my dad--

it was just safer to say yes.

Your suitcase is in the trunk.

We packed up the car

and drove to the bank to pick him up from work.

Give me your phone.

My mom had no idea what was really happening

until it was too late.

My dad was the bank manager,

and he took everything out of the vault

and disappeared with us

on the Friday night of a three-day weekend,

which meant he had a three-day head start.

By the time my mom

saw her face on the news next to my dad,

she knew that she'd be seen as his accomplice,

and our two-week vacation turned into a permanent one.

We traded cars. We...

dyed our hair different colors.

We changed her names.

We...

were homeschooled by my mother.

We moved around a lot.

My dad, he...

paid off some scary guys...

...and gambled away the rest of the money

that he stole,

and ended up working odd jobs for cash,

which just...

It made him angrier...

and more dangerous.

We were scared to stay with him and scared--

Scared to leave.

I know it doesn't make any sense.

Nothing makes sense to a child living in a family like that...

at least not until you're away from it.

One morning, we woke up and my dad was just gone.

It was a relief.

And you didn't go to the police?

He was gone,

but it didn't change the fact

that my mom was still a wanted person.

No matter what she told them, she would have been arrested,

and then what would have happened to me and Amber?

Foster care.

I can't believe

they're still looking for you after all this time.

It's a national bank,

so that's a federal crime,

and...

those people just don't give up.

So you started all over again, just the three of you?

We made it all the way--

To Colorado?

I can't say.

It took some time,

but we actually found a way to almost have a normal life,

just as long as we didn't get too close to anyone or--

Attract attention.

That must have been so hard for a girl

who always dreamed of being in the spotlight.

I loved my family enough to stay...

...but my mom loved me enough to let me go.

When I turned 18,

she said it was time to leave and live my own life.

They found a city they could just disappear into,

and we'd communicate through post-office box.

I'd write about my songs, being on the road,

but nothing too specific,

and sometimes, we would arrange a pass-by...

like at a park,

or a counter at a diner,

or an empty church...

but we had a close call.

One of those crime TV shows mentioned my parents,

and so we connected less and less.

This letter...

...was the last time I knew where to reach her.

When I left this one behind at Starmaker's,

someone had taken a photo of me that night,

and the police were checking I.D.s,

so I was worried

that somebody would find this letter,

put two and two together like you did,

and so I never wrote to that box number again.

I haven't spoken to them in five years.

Do you think they're still in Colorado,

hiding in plain sight?

I can't help you.

I won't be the reason my own mother gets arrested.

I would send her money that I'd get from Nate,

but once I lost her,

I didn't know where to send it anymore.

If you find her,

can you just tell her that...

Lily-- that's my real name--

...can you tell her that Lily's okay?

You have our word.

You've given up an awful lot to protect her.

My mom used to play the organ at our church,

and she taught me everything I know about music.

It's how I learned to love Bach,

and yeah, she gave me

the chance to break away and sing my own music

and try and finally be somebody.

And I tried...

but it turns out that...

if it puts the people you love in danger,

it's not worth it.

Well, we're right back where we started.

But we know something we didn't know before.

Her mother taught piano and plays the organ.

People play the organ all over the world.

The zip was in Denver.

Except Lily says she's probably long gone by now.

Norman, um, I apologize for bringing up a...

a painful subject,

but when you were separated from your mother as a child

at the National Western Stock Show,

what did you do?

Oh, well,

there was that stampede that I started, accidentally,

um, but then I went back to the last place I saw her--

the 4-H exhibit.

And she never came,

but that's where I waited for her.

That's what my mother used to always say.

"If you get lost,

go back to the last place we were together,

and I'll be waiting there for you."

And a mother like Lily's would...

wait there forever, I would imagine.

If that's true,

she took a big chance staying in one place.

Amazing what a parent will do for their child.

This is gonna be hard.

As federal employees,

we are required to report her to the FBI,

aren't we?

That is quite a moral dilemma.

Sadly...

there's no dilemma at all.

We have no choice.

Oh!

You must be so excited about being a grandfather.

Charley, it's the greatest thing to happen to me since...

- well, since Oliver. - Ohh!

Tell me, what's going on with that boyfriend of yours?

Marlon?

He is...

the best thing to happen to me

since you!

Yeah, he is!

Life is good.

Hey!

Three days in that old RV. How did it go?

Very, very well.

Quite productive and enlightening.

And we may have a lead on the mother.

Oh, what was Nate Holloway like?

Pretty nice guy, actually.

Aw!

Oh, and Rita-- she will never be the same.

Where are they? Rita and Norman?

Oh, they're on their way.

Rita wanted to stop for breakfast-- again.

Ah.

And then they're meeting the birth mother.

Oh, um...

Oliver, Dr. Nichols wants us to come in today at 11:00.

Are you okay to cover for us again, Charley?

Yeah, no problem.

You opened it?

I did.

You okay?

Uh, it's a very busy day.

Perhaps later?

Later, got it.

I've got some work to do in the museum anyway.

So, uh, Tracy is actually Lily,

and she has a sister named Amber,

um, and their mom's real name is--

oh...

here we go. Oliver?

Whoa.

"Wanted by the Federal Bureau of Investigation

for federal bank robbery--

James and Camille Conley."

They're bank robbers?

He is.

She isn't, but they are still on the run.

But the father ditched them

and left the mom and the girls alone to fend for themselves.

Yeah! "Subject's known

to travel with two female minors."

Oh, they even have age progressions.

Wow.

Some of these actually look like Lily now.

What's her story?

Well, Lily says that her mom plays the organ

and loves Bach,

so run a search for organists

in Denver over the last five years

with first initials

That was the alias she used on the envelope.

Oh, and put a tag on it for Baroque music.

Mm-hmm.

This is actually gonna be good practice for you.

Oliver, we should go.

Yes.

So... the baby's still looking good,

but your blood test came back,

and I'd like to run another test.

At the moment, I'm not worried,

but we need to keep an eye out for a few things.

Such as?

Well, you have slightly elevated glucose levels,

and we don't want to be surprised

by anything down the line, like gestational diabetes.

Is there something to worry about?

Well, it's a real possibility.

We need to stay vigilant and watch what you eat now.

There's not much to watch at this point.

Oliver, this-- this is a blessing.

You know, not everybody gets this kind of help

when they're pregnant.

We will be fine.

It's just another test,

and whatever we find out, we'll know what to do about it.

What is it you say-- knowledge is power?

I just feel so helpless.

I think every father does, no matter what's going on.

Every good one, at least.

I'm gonna go back to the DLO,

and maybe you need to find your dad

and talk to him about this.

I love you.

Hey.

Hans thinks

the attic would make a great interactive mail room,

so I thought I'd clean it up a bit.

What's on your mind, son?

I got some news.

Um...

I want to ask you a question first.

Shoot.

Did you know it was full of letters?

Yes,

but I didn't read them, of course.

He wrote 43...

...from as far back as 30 years ago.

43?

Have you read them all?

Most of them.

Enough to have some questions.

I'm listening.

Why didn't you give them to me before?

Before... what?

Before now! Before--

Before you were ready?

And you would know when that was?

I'm your dad, Ollie.

Harvey Schmidtz wrote those when he was ready.

I put them away for you

to read when I thought you were ready.

I don't think you were waiting for the right time.

You found them in the attic. I think--

What-- do you think?

I think you put 'em away until you were ready!

That's what I think.

I don't think I'd ever be ready

to hand over something to my son

that could hurt him,

but they were written to you,

and if there's anything you and I share,

it's a respect for the sanctity of a letter,

so, yes, I put them away for you to read someday,

but...

Well, we didn't see each other

for over a decade...

and before that, you were just a kid.

You were-- You were a-- an angry teenager

grieving a runaway mom

and in no position

to deal with the shock of discovering

that there was another man out there

who was your father.

It is shocking.

He loved

letters and Shakespeare

and precision, tradition, logic.

He sounds just like me.

So, absolutely, it is a shock.

I knew it would be,

so I decided to hold onto them until you grew up.

I did grow up,

and you and I reconciled years ago,

and you hung onto them for what--

another 10 years, after he died?

Not on purpose.

I'm sorry. I-I...

After all that time, I just... forgot.

I forgot all about them until the other day,

when you and I came up here, and...

I don't know.

You know, if I'm being honest--

...there's a part of me

that never much liked the idea

of having to compete with some guy

who never had to say no to you,

or-or punish you,

or tell you to wash the dishes.

I'm the one who kept you from falling

when you were learning to walk,

or had to let you make important mistakes.

So, hey, maybe reading those letters now--

now that you're gonna have a son of your own,

a child of your own,

maybe it's exactly the right time

for you to learn

that writing down a few pieces of advice

and stickin' 'em in a box

doesn't make you...

a father.

Being a father

is about being there...

son.

And at a moment like this,

it's...

about knowing when not to be there,

so I'm going to take a walk.

We just got another hit on Lily's mom.

- Oh? - There's a story here

in the "Denver Post" about a "Marilyn Walker."

"Organist Marilyn Walker

celebrated her 100th birthday--"

Never-Never mind.

Well, this is the 15th organist whose name starts with "M-A-R".

Mm. Mary, Marla, Marissa, Maureen,

Mariannette, Marvella, Marvina--

Oh, wait!

Here's one more.

It's the staff list

from a church bulletin at Denver Park Episcopal.

Choir director Robert Hamilton, organist Margot Hope.

Organists usually work part-time, right?

For cash, maybe?

Yeah, I think it's worth a look.

Uh, you guys stay here and, um, finish...

all your food,

and I will go get Oliver.

- Okay, bye! - Bye.

We have a lead!

The organist at Denver Park Episcopal Church.

It's a long shot,

but we could go and see her before my nap.

Hey, you okay?

What's going on? Did you talk to Joe?

Uh, I didn't tell him.

We got into a fight.

What? What about?

It was about those letters.

I would like you

to go home and nap,

take care of yourself.

I will go follow the lead.

I am fine, Oliver,

and considering the day you've had so far,

I'm not so sure that you should be doing this alone.

This is exactly the kind of thing

I should be doing alone.

If it does turn out to be Camille Conley,

I'll have to notify the authorities,

and I'm sure you don't want to be there for that.

Pardon me.

May I sit with you?

You just seem a little lost.

Um, yeah, uh...

I'm just...

I'm sorry, are you...

Are you the organist?

Yes. I'm Margot Hope.

You know, you are right, Miss Hope.

I came here...

feeling a little lost today.

My past and my future

seem to be colliding, uh...

and I'm struggling to find my place in it all...

...and I've never been this scared before.

But-- ahem--

you're used to living with that kind of fear

every day,

aren't you, Camille?

Is that why you chose the name "Hope"?

I always wondered when this day would come.

Believe it or not...

I'm from the Post Office.

My name is Oliver O'Toole,

and, um...

I'm here

to deliver a letter

from Lily.

Lily? Is she okay?

Yes, she's-- she's fine.

You haven't heard from her because that letter was lost,

then she was afraid writing you again

would put you in jeopardy.

You've seen her?

Yes.

She's remarkable,

and she wants you to know that she is safe.

Lily also gave us, uh...

...money to deliver, if we located you.

She wouldn't help us find you.

We had to do that on our own.

She is still protecting her family.

But, sadly...

delivering that letter

comes with a price.

You have to turn me in.

You've been using U.S. Mail

to elude capture for a federal crime.

A crime my husband committed, but we've been paying for.

Mom?

I'll be right there, honey.

Amber?

Yes, she'll be 18 in six weeks.

That's all I need...

just six more weeks to get her ready,

and say goodbye.

Then you can walk me into the police station yourself,

I promise.

Uh, Miss Conley, I-I'm afraid--

Do you have children?

Oliver?

There you are.

How did it go? Was it her?

Yes.

So what happened?

Well...

delivered the letter.

I gave her the money...

and I gave her...

...a chance.

I knew you would.

That's just who you are.

Shane...

Right now...

I don't have...

any idea who I am, at all.

You are someone

who believes in people

and in second chances.

You are my husband and my hero...

...and you are going to be the father

of a beautiful little baby,

who will grow up to adore you,

just as you adore Joe and Joe adores you.

Why are we talking about my dad?

Because, Oliver.

Because he deserves a second chance, too.

When you stopped speaking to him for all those years,

Joe wrote you letters too, remember?

46.

And you returned all of them-- unopened.

Harvey Schmidtz writes you almost as many,

and you read every single one. Why?

Because I was curious.

I wanted to see if we had anything in common,

if he really cared about me

or if he just wrote those letters because...

he didn't want me to hate him for what he did.

For falling in love with

and having an affair with your mother?

Yeah...

Yeah.

That was bad...

...but if he hadn't...

...there wouldn't

have been you.

Hmm!

What a mysterious and magnificent mess

life can be, hmm?

Harvey Schmidtz gave you life,

but Joseph O'Toole gave you a life.

Maybe you need to go back to the last place you saw him.

Dad?

Hello?

I took a long walk.

A very long walk.

You said you had some news?

Shane's doctor called us back for another test.

Okay.

She could be at risk for diabetes.

Wow.

I-Is she okay? Are you okay?

She's already at risk for so many other things,

and now this.

But she's amazing.

She's so... calm and, um, and strong,

but I'm...

I mean, this is...

There's a letter in there for everything--

...romance, work, school, money...

books.

Everything, but there's no letter

that tells me what I'm supposed to do

when the woman I can't live without

is having a baby...

and anything can happen to her, or them,

and I may lose everything I love.

There's nothing in there that tells me

how to be what she needs me to be,

what I need to be for them.

Nothing that teaches me how to be the...

...the father that...

you.

When that doctor was...

...talking to us,

I just wanted to talk to my dad,

but I was so...

...angry with you about those stupid letters.

Because I held on to them so long?

Because reading them--

...made everything true.

And that smart, eccentric...

particular...

logical man

was really my father.

For all those years, I--

I think I hoped,

somewhere in the back of my head

or my heart,

that, um,

that maybe there was a chance, that maybe--

Maybe...

it was me after all?

No.

I know.

But after all...

it was you.

And I was sitting here, thinking about

growing up in this house...

and who always was there for me,

always--

it was you.

It still is, Dad.

And I'm not going anywhere.

Good.

Because I need you.

I've been reading a lot of prenatal books about parenting,

and apparently,

when it comes down to it--

babies don't come with instructions.

Oh, actually, you did--

the "Oliver O'Toole Handbook:

A Guide to Raising a Postal Prodigy."

Very helpful!

And for dessert--

we end the gala

with a vanilla cake with a chantilly cream.

I love a chantilly!

Mm--

"Chantilly Dorman." It's better than Cheyenne.

Mm!

You guys are still here?

Yeah, we thought you were coming back,

so we ordered more lunch...

and then dinner.

Coming right up!

Well, Raymond told us his plans for the gala.

And?

We still have six weeks to make it very postal.

- Good. - Mm-hmm!

So, um, Oliver found Camille and delivered the letter.

Oh. Did he...?

No, he didn't report her, not yet.

But he will?

Well, he did the right thing today,

and if he has to,

he'll do the right thing again, if the time comes.

Amber's 18,

and I'm-I'm afraid we can't wait any longer.

Poor Amber.

And Lily. And, well, all of them.

It's just heartbreaking.

This might be the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I know.

But you've done more for her than most people would.

She's already paid such a high price.

Hopefully they'll see it that way

and give her a break.

Well, all that'll have to be negotiated.

She possibly might not do much time.

It's happened before.

So we're doing this?

Yes.

What are you doing here?

You found her? You found my mom?

A few weeks ago.

You turned her in?

You won't have much time together, Lily.

They'll be here for your mother in two hours.

Mom?

My sweet girl!

This is where the Meditation Atrium will be.

Look at them.

You've given them such an incredible gift, Oliver.

I just wish they had more time.

Ladies and gentlemen...

generous donors and sponsors

of the future Colorado Museum of Postal History...

some of you may recall

that, before this establishment was "Ramon's Catalan Kitchen,"

it was the nationally-renowned Starmaker's--

a club where the soon-to-be famous performed.

Tonight,

let us go back in time,

back to Starmaker's,

to watch one last star be born. Hmm?

So please,

let's give it up for...

Lily Conley!

Go on.

No, no, I can't.

I can't.

Lily, remember your stamps.

"The singer doesn't sing because she has answers.

The singer sings...

because she has a song."

And I need to hear it before I go.

I love you.

I love you, too, Mom.

All right?

Okay.

Please step inside, Ms. Conley.

Here.

Oh, thank you.

You're welcome.

I'm very proud of you.

And I am in awe of you.

Well, as days go...

today was definitely a big one.

Mm. So much joy

and so much sadness at the same time.

What a mysterious, magnificent mess life can be.

We should go home, but...

I know.

It just feels so right, coming back here tonight.

Mm-hmm.

- Mm-hmm. - Yeah, just to...

I don't know,

just to appreciate being together, because--

Because not everyone can.

Oh! Norman...

uh, Norman!

Sunny was just born.

- Oh, my gosh! - Oh, my goodness!

- We have a baby! - Yes!

- We've got a baby! - You have to go!

Go! You've got to go now!

- Oh, my goodness. - Drive safely.

And also, don't forget to take a Yoo-Hoo for the road.

Yup!

We've got to go!

Go!

We'll see you soon!

Drive carefully!

Oh...

I love us.

I love... all of us.

All of us.