Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined Read online

  Essie turned to the third woman at her table on her left who had so far remained speechless. “Hello, are you making a valentine too?” The woman smiled at Essie and held up a piece of red construction paper in response. Hmmm, thought Essie. Just like Fay.

  Although she had no interest in actually making a valentine, Essie decided that she had best maintain a low profile, so she grabbed some of the items in the center of the table and began fashioning a valentine herself. Sue Barber continued to drone on from the center of the room, describing types of cards and various different things residents might do to create a truly beautiful valentine. Eventually, Sue ceased talking and announced that she would be coming around to each table to check to see how everyone was coming along with their creations. Good, thought Essie. Now, maybe I can pick her brain about my secret admirer card. She fiddled with some red and white construction paper, folding and molding it as she watched Sue make her way around the room, talking to each and every person at every table.

  “Are you making a valentine for your husband too?” Donna asked Essie.

  Essie was startled when her neighbor interrupted her train of thought. She glanced over at Donna, the lady who evidently believed her dead husband was still alive.

  “No,” she said cautiously. “I’m…I’m making this for…” Essie thought about her response, not wanting to aggravate Donna’s grief by mentioning her own widowhood. She decided on a safe response. “Actually, I’m making this for my…new great grandson!” she proclaimed. Of course, Essie had no great grandchildren, and this lie was totally off the cuff. Oh my! she thought. Now I’ve done it. I’ve told a lie to spare this woman’s feelings. I’m sure I could have thought of something truthful to say that wouldn’t have upset her.

  “That’s so nice!” said Donna, smiling broadly.

  “A great grandson,” added Velma. “How wonderful!”

  Essie smiled in acknowledgement, cowering inside. She glanced down at her red construction paper and grabbed a squeeze bottle of glue from the center of the table and lowered her head to her work, focusing like a laser beam on squeezing a small line of white glue all around the entire edge of her red paper. The other women returned to their valentine construction, and for several minutes everyone at the table was engrossed in their efforts.

  As Essie continued her efforts to glue the entire perimeter of the large piece of red construction paper, she didn’t notice Sue Barber moving to her table. Suddenly the young staff woman was there.

  “And how are you ladies coming along with your masterpieces?” Sue asked with a breezy voice. She stood at the corner of the table between Donna and Essie. She focused on Donna’s card—a pink heart pinned to three doilies. Essie noted that although Donna may have been confused about the state of her marriage, there was obviously no confusion about her artistic skills. She had fashioned something quite beautiful in the short time that Essie had been tediously gluing the edge of her construction paper.

  “Oh, Donna!” exclaimed Sue, holding up the card in her hands. “This is beautiful!” Sue’s face beamed a genuine smile. She tipped her head to the side in appreciation of Donna’s workmanship. Sue’s long, brown hair hung against her blue work smock. Essie noticed that, unlike their illustrious director Violet, Sue’s fingertips were not beautifully trimmed and painted. In fact, Sue’s hands and fingers looked like they spent a lot of time here in the recreation room working on art projects. She could see short nails, bitten down in spots, and hands that were rough and calloused. Essie glanced around the room where she could see displayed many art projects completed by residents. It was evident that Sue took pride in her efforts here and viewed each resident’s artistic success as a personal triumph.

  Sue continued to rave about Donna’s card. “I love what you’ve done with the outlining here, Donna!” She pointed out to the women at the table the clever effect that Donna had created through the use of her doilies intertwined with her construction paper. “I can hardly wait to see this card completed!”

  Sue placed the card back in Donna’s hands. Donna was smiling proudly as Sue selected her work to highlight for the table. Sue then went to each person at the table and discussed their art work with them individually. She came to Essie last.

  “Essie!” cried Sue. “We never see you here for our art classes!”

  “Miss Barber,” replied Essie. “Yes, I’m not much of an artist, really….”

  “I can’t believe that, Miss Essie,” interjected Sue. “You are one of the cleverest residents at Happy Haven. I bet you’ll make an amazing valentine.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” said Essie, embarrassed. “Actually, Miss Barber, I was wondering if I might ask you a question.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’d really like to pick your brain,” she began.

  “Pick away,” said Sue, laughing. “What do you need to know?”

  “It’s about valentines,” said Essie.

  “Appropriate,” Sue said and nodded. This turn in the conversation seemed to get the other women at the table to stop their artwork and look over at them.

  “Yes,” said Essie. “I received a valentine that I’d like your professional opinion about.” Essie reached over to her walker and lifted the seat. She handed the envelope to Sue.

  “Oh, my!” declared Sue as Essie placed the card in her hands. “What’s this?”

  “Just look at it,” Essie encouraged, “and tell me everything you can about it.”

  Sue’s face revealed her puzzlement. Even so, with a slight smile, she gently opened the envelope and carefully removed the card inside. By now, not only were the three women at Essie’s table totally focused on what was happening, other residents at other tables had stopped their artistic endeavors and were watching Sue Barber open Essie’s card.

  Sue stared at the front of Essie’s valentine. She carefully opened the card and perused the inside poem and signature. Then, she turned it over and read the back. She turned the card back to the front.

  “This is quite a card, Essie!” she said with almost a whistle. “And a secret admirer! You are some lady!” As soon as Sue said the words ‘secret admirer’ all the women at Essie’s table gasped. Donna and Velma repeated the phrase and soon the words ‘secret admirer’ echoed throughout the rec room.

  “No, no!” said Essie to Sue, “what I need to know is what can you tell me about the construction of this card? How was it manufactured? You’re the resident art expert here and I was hoping you might enlighten me about the card itself. Anything you can tell me I would appreciate.”

  “Why, Essie, if you don’t mind my asking, why do you need to know about how the card was created or manufactured? I would just be thrilled to get such a beautiful card—and from a secret admirer. Do you have any idea who it is?” Sue beamed with excitement.

  “No,” said Essie, “and I thought maybe you could help me figure out who it is if you could tell me something—anything—about the card itself.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Sue with a nod. She looked around at the other women at the table. They were waiting for her response—as were apparently many others in the rec room—with baited breath. “I guess I’d better come up with something then.” She laughed and smiled at Essie and the other women, and returned to her intense perusal of the card.

  “Essie has a secret admirer!” called a man from a nearby table. Essie scowled at him. Her response was greeted with a few cat calls from several other men in the room, but they were quickly hushed by a chorus of women throughout the rec room who piped in about how romantic it was.

  “I don’t really know, Essie,” said Sue finally. “There’s not a lot to tell you about this card. It’s well made, beautifully made, actually. In fact, I’d say the workmanship is far more precise than your typical store-bought greeting card. Most cards these days are mass-produced and don’t have so much detail to them. I mean, just the front. Look at the doily and the delicate ribbon that is woven around the edge. That would take a lot of effort. Al
so, the stuffed heart in the center. You just don’t see cards with little sachets like that anymore.”

  “Do you mean, Miss Barber,” asked Essie, “that this card is an old card that someone just happened to have lying around and sent me?”

  “I don’t know, Essie,” said Sue. “That’s possible. They did make fancy cards like this years ago when people put more stock in sending really beautiful valentines. I remember my grandmother received a similar valentine from my grandfather once. She kept it for years. It had a little heart like this one too. It was actually a sachet that could be removed and used to perfume drawers where you kept sweaters. I remember my grandmother told me she had taken off the little heart and kept it in her intimates drawer—that’s what she called her underwear drawer—for many years.”

  “Do you think the heart on this card is one of those sachets?” asked Essie.

  “I don’t know,” said Sue. She held the front of the card up to her nose and sniffed. “It doesn’t smell like it has any perfume or talcum powder in it, so I’d guess not. You can try to remove it and use it in a drawer if you like though.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’ll do that,” said Essie with a sigh. “I really just want to know who sent it to me. It’s a mystery…and…”

  “And Essie likes mysteries!” called out the gentleman who had earlier made the crack about Essie’s secret admirer. Sue looked over at the man and gave him an admonishing glare and he quickly resumed work on his card.

  “I guess that’s all I can offer you, Essie,” said Sue with finality as she handed the card back. “It is a curious situation. If you don’t know who this person is, I don’t know how you can find out who he is just by finding out more about the card. I wish you could. And I wish I could help you.”

  “That’s okay, Miss Barber,” replied Essie. “You’ve actually been very helpful.” Essie said good-bye to her table companions and headed back to her apartment.

  Chapter Five

  “To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven”

  —Karen Sunde

  Back in her room, Essie was sitting in her recliner mulling over the information she had acquired from Sue Barber at the arts and crafts class. Not much, she realized. Sue had been impressed with the workmanship of the card, but other than that and the fact that she thought the little heart might contain some sort of sachet, Essie hadn’t learned much in her trip up to the second floor. As she stared at the card, she thought of someone else who might be able to provide her with some pertinent information about the greeting card.

  Grabbing her telephone from the end table to her right, she tapped in the numbers for her oldest daughter, Prudence. Pru answered on the first ring, which was typical.

  “Hello.”

  “Pru? It’s your mother.”

  “Oh, Mom! Hi! Is something wrong?” Essie smiled to herself. It was so like her eldest to immediately assume the worst when receiving a phone call from her mother.

  “I’d really like to speak with Mindy, dear, if she’s there.” Pru’s adult daughter Mindy lived at home with her parents while attempting to jump-start her career. The economy had taken a toll on the young woman whose college degree in graphic design wasn’t in great demand in Reardon.

  “Mindy? Well, yes, she’s here, Mom. She’s getting ready for work. I’ll get her.” Work was a part-time job at a local boutique. Mindy created ads and brochures, and designed the small company’s website. Essie had seen samples of her work and had been surprised and delighted by her granddaughter’s talent.

  After a few seconds, Mindy spoke.

  “Hey, Grandma! What’s up?”

  “Mindy, dear,” began Essie, “I have a little problem that I believe you might be able to help me with.”

  “Me? Sure, Grandma,” replied Mindy with a small laugh. “I can’t imagine that there’s anything I could do that Mom couldn’t though.”

  “Oh, yes, dear,” said Essie. “This is a problem in graphic design.”

  “Really?” exclaimed Mindy. “What are you making, Grandma?”

  “Oh, dear, I’m not making anything,” explained Essie. “I have something here that I’d like you to take a look at and tell me what you can about how it was made…or designed.”

  “You mean like an advertisement?” asked Mindy, her curiosity obviously piqued.

  “No, dear. This is a greeting card. A valentine to be exact.”

  “A valentine?” cried Mindy. “One you received?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” said Essie. “There are some very unusual things about it. I’d really like you to take a look at it. Do you think you might be able to drop by Happy Haven and do that?”

  “Sure, Grandma,” said Mindy. “Tell you what, I’m almost ready to leave for work, but Happy Haven is right on my way. If I leave now, I can drop by your place in a few minutes and check out your mysterious card before I head off to work. How’s that?”

  “That would be wonderful, dear!”

  “Okay, I’m out the door!”

  Essie hung up the phone, totally gratified that she would not only get Mindy’s expert opinion on the mysterious valentine, but also that she’d have a chance to speak with her quiet young granddaughter alone and away from the often overbearing force of her mother. Essie made a quick bathroom trip as a precaution. She didn’t want to be interrupted during Mindy’s visit with the need to visit her facilities.

  True to her word, Mindy arrived, breathless, about fifteen minutes later. Pru and her husband didn’t live all that far away—a fact that provided constant security to Essie. Mindy tapped lightly on Essie’s front door and then stuck her head in.

  “Grandma?” she called out quietly.

  “Come in, dear,” said Essie, now back in her recliner, the card in question on her lap.

  Mindy entered. She quickly removed her winter hat and jacket and came over to Essie, sitting on the desk chair that she moved over beside Essie’s recliner. Mindy was a slight young woman with delicate features and long, loose strawberry blonde hair. She had a gentle smile on her face.

  “It’s so good to see you, Mindy,” said Essie warmly.

  “You too, Grandma,” replied Mindy, giving her grandmother a short kiss on the top of her head. “How are you doing?”

  “Physically, just fine, my dear,” replied Essie, “but mentally I’m stumped. I hope you can help.”

  “I’ll sure try.”

  “Look here,” said Essie, holding up the valentine, now out of its envelope. “I received this in the mail.” With a puzzled look, Mindy took the card. She studied the front, then opened the card and read the inside. Finally, she turned the card over and looked at the back. “Our activities director, Sue Barber, looked at it and said it was extremely well made. She thought the little heart in the center might be a sachet. You know, with perfume inside.”

  “Hmm,” said Mindy, furrowing her brow as she studied the card. “It’s very fancy. And what’s this about a secret admirer? I take it you don’t know who sent it?”

  “No, dear,” said Essie, “I have no idea who sent it. The postmark says Boston and I can’t think of anyone I know who lives there.”

  “It’s very romantic, Grandma,” said Mindy looking directly at Essie. “Wow! I mean…it’s pretty neat to have some guy send you something like this at…I mean…”

  “You mean at my age?” asked Essie. “Oh, it’s all right, dear. I long ago gave up any aspirations of having men ply me with romantic missives.” Mindy chuckled.

  “I don’t see why not, Grandma,” she said. “You’re a neat lady.”

  “Thank you, Mindy, but I’ve only given my heart to one man in my life and that was your grandfather.”

  “I understand, Grandma,” said Mindy. “Grandpa John was a super guy. I can understand why you loved him. He was always really nice to me.”

  “He loved you a lot, my dear,” said Essie warmly as the two women sat next to each other, their arms touching as they stared at the flowery card. “But, anyway, that�
�s not why I asked you here. I asked you because I know how talented a designer you are. I hope you might be able to tell me something about this card—how it was made, constructed, where, anything about the materials used. Just anything you can. I’m trying to figure out who sent it to me and I believe that the more I know about the card itself the better chance I stand of figuring out something about the man who sent it.”

  “I don’t know that I can tell you much, Grandma,” said Mindy tentatively, “but there are some things that jump out at me when I first look at it.”

  “Like what?”

  “First, it was definitely made by an artist, probably a professional graphic designer like myself. I can tell by the designer’s use of font, placement, color—oh, just a number of elements that suggest it is professionally done. However, I don’t think this professional designer created this valentine for the Boston Bell Greeting Card Company.” Mindy turned the card over and read the name of the company from the back of the card.

  “Why do you say that, dear?”

  “Grandma,” she said, “the logo for the company on the back of the card would seem to indicate that it was manufactured by this company. But, I don’t think so. I think this designer made this card specifically to send to you and not to be sold in stores. Do you have any other greeting cards around here?” She turned back to the desk and glanced around.

  “I do,” said Essie. “Look under that pile of papers in the upper right hand corner. There are several greeting cards I got for Christmas that I just haven’t thrown away. Is that what you mean?”

  “Yes,” said Mindy, fumbling around in the pile for one of the old Christmas cards. She found one and brought it out. Turning the card over, she showed Essie the back. “Look at this Christmas card. It was obviously purchased in a store. What do you see on the back?”

  “I see a logo just like on the valentine,” said Essie, pulling down her glasses and squinting at the markings on the back of the card. “Then there’s this square full of lines. I don’t see that on the valentine.”