Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined Page 6

  “Butter on your cinnamon roll,” observed Opal. “Essie, isn’t that overkill? I mean there must be a pound of butter in these rolls to begin with.” Opal was nibbling her roll delicately, patting her lips every so often with her napkin. Essie felt a drool of butter run down the side of her chin.

  “It’s a special treat,” replied Essie, slurping up the dribble of butter. “I’ve been working hard trying to figure out this valentine thing.”

  “Oh!” cried Marjorie, “did you find out who he is, Essie?” Her romantic friend was now thoroughly engaged in the conversation. Anything that involved men, romance, or gossip would always get Marjorie’s juices flowing. “What about Betsy? Did you ever find her?”

  “I did,” replied Essie, setting down her roll and wiping her fingers with her napkin. “She got a valentine last year, much like mine, she says.”

  “You showed her yours?” asked Opal with similar curiosity.

  “Yes, Opal,” replied Essie, still slightly annoyed with what she considered Opal’s bossiness. “I show you mine, you show me yours.”

  “Did you see hers?” asked Marjorie with enthusiasm.

  “No,” said Essie. “She didn’t have it.”

  “You mean she didn’t have it with her?” asked Opal.

  “No,” said Essie. “I mean she didn’t have it anymore. “

  “She didn’t throw it away, did she?” cried Marjorie. “I would never get rid of such a beautiful expression of love, especially from an unknown admirer.”

  “No, Marjorie,” continued Essie, “she didn’t throw it away. It was stolen. She put it on her television set shortly after she received it and not long after that it went missing.”

  “Oh, she probably just misplaced it,” suggested Opal. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to steal some greeting card from a resident.”

  “Maybe a resident took it!” exclaimed Marjorie. “Maybe one of her friends who was jealous!”

  “Marjorie,” said Essie, “it was displayed in her room. You’re suggesting another resident went into her apartment and took this card from the top of her television set?”

  “It’s possible,” replied Marjorie sheepishly.

  “It’s more likely that a staff member took it,” suggested Opal.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” agreed Essie. “We all keep our rooms unlocked. Aides and cleaning people come and go into our rooms, sometimes when we’re there and sometimes when we’re not. I’m sure it would be easy for a staff member to just slip into Betsy’s room and grab that card without anyone noticing it at all.”

  “But why, Essie?” asked Marjorie. “Why would a staff member do that?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out,” replied Essie. “Betsy said she had some valuable items in her room.” Essie didn’t mention exactly what Betsy had mentioned or where it was located. She figured she owed the woman this much discretion. “She couldn’t understand why someone would take a paper greeting card but not anything valuable.”

  “You’d better keep an eye on your card, Essie,” admonished Opal, glancing over at Essie’s walker.

  “Don’t worry,” said Essie. “It will never leave my side. If anyone tries to take it, they’ll have to come through me first.”

  “Oh, Essie!” cried Marjorie. “That sounds dangerous! I hope you don’t do anything foolish just to protect a valentine!”

  “Are you even sure that there’s a connection between your card and Betsy’s? They could be from different people,” said Opal.

  “No,” said Essie. “I showed my card to Betsy and she remembered her card very well. She said they were practically the same. Maybe different colors, but she remembered the same doily, ribbons, and little heart in the center. I really think she received a card just like mine.”

  “That means that the same person sent it,” said Marjorie, her eyes wide with realization.

  “Yes,” agreed Essie. “Her secret admirer is my secret admirer.”

  “So what does that mean, Essie?” questioned Opal, frowning. “Is this man in love with lots of women here at Happy Haven? He lives in Boston, right?”

  “Right, Opal,” replied Essie. “I don’t know what it means. But I do think that there’s more going on here than meets the eye. I don’t know who this secret admirer is, but I intend to find out. Betsy never received any other card or call from a secret admirer. She is still mystified by it. And I’m sure her admirer is the same as mine. And since her card was stolen, I can only guess that someone may attempt to steal my card too. So, my intention is to guard it so that if anyone tries to take it, I will learn who they are and find out why they are doing this.”

  “That sounds potentially dangerous, Essie,” said Opal. “I agree with Marjorie.”

  “Oh, stop it, you two!” said Essie, hands up. “I’m not going to do anything valiant. If anyone tries to take the card, I’ll just let them. But I’ll observe who they are so I can track them down later.”

  “So you say, Essie,” noted Marjorie, shaking her head. “You be careful! I don’t want to lose one of my best friends!” A tear welled up in Marjorie’s eye and she patted it with her napkin. Then, she shoved the rest of her cinnamon roll in her mouth in an obvious attempt to deflect attention from her outburst.

  The women became silent as they sipped their coffee and enjoyed the last few bites of their cinnamon rolls. Eventually, they departed the dining hall and Essie made her mid-morning stop at the mailboxes. Apparently, the mailman had arrived early this morning, and Phyllis had already delivered the mail to the boxes. Essie reached in and pulled out a handful of flyers and ads. There were no valentines in her mailbox this morning and she wondered how long the mail had been in the boxes. She glanced over to the front desk and noticed that Phyllis was there busily working with a sign-up list on the counter.

  Essie shoved her mail into her walker seat basket and pushed herself over to the front desk.

  “Good morning, Miss Essie,” said Phyllis, looking up from her duty. She appeared to be counting the number of residents who had signed up for some activity. Essie moved closer to Phyllis.

  “Hello, Phyllis,” she said, her head bent close to the desk clerk. “I see you already have the mail out. The mailman must have come early today.”

  “He did,” replied Phyllis. “Some days he’s early. Some days late. But whenever he arrives, Essie, I always drop what I’ve been doing here and distribute the mail to the boxes. I know how important it is to our residents to get their mail each day.”

  “There isn’t any pattern to when the mailman arrives, then?” asked Essie.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” replied Phyllis, biting her lip. “I’ve never thought about it. Maybe there is. I just don’t know what the pattern would be, Essie. Possibly he’s later on Mondays because the mail piles up over a weekend. I don’t know. I never really stopped to analyze it. Is there a reason you need to know?”

  “Oh, no!” said Essie, laughing. “You know me, Phyllis! I’m just curious. I noticed how early he was yesterday—so much earlier than today. I was just wondering.”

  “I can’t really say why,” said Phyllis. “Let me see, it’s ten thirty and I just finished putting the mail in the boxes. Yesterday, I believe I had it all up by…hmm…maybe nine thirty. You’re right. It was earlier yesterday. I don’t have any idea why.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that the mailman arrives at different times every day, but that you put the mail up as soon as he delivers it, no matter when.”

  “Absolutely!” said Phyllis. “I would never just let the mail sit on the counter undelivered. I always distribute it as soon as it gets here. Of course, he always gets here in the morning. I’ve never known the mailman to arrive any later than noon. And usually no later than, let’s say, eleven.”

  “Hmm,” said Essie, pondering this information. “No later than eleven. And how early might he arrive?”

  “That’s a good question,” replied Phyllis. “Of course, he couldn’t get in the bu
ilding before six because it’s locked. But I don’t believe he’s ever been here that early! Probably the earliest he’s ever been here was…maybe nine or eight thirty.”

  “So, the window for the mailman’s arrival is somewhere between nine and eleven,” said Essie almost to herself. “A two hour window.”

  “Yes,” said Phyllis, “that sounds about right. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s that old curiosity of mine again,” laughed Essie. “You know us old ladies; we don’t have much else to do with ourselves than calculate the arrival time of the local postman.” She gave Phyllis a forced laugh. Phyllis joined in for a moment. As she was about ready to depart, Essie turned from the front desk as Santos whizzed by her with a covered food tray heading towards her hallway off the family room again. Essie said farewell to Phyllis and pushed her walker after the waiter and down her hallway.

  As she turned into her hallway, she saw Santos at the far end where the hallway dead-ended. He made a quick turn to the left. Essie contemplated whether to continue to her own room which was a few doors down on the left or follow Santos. She quickly decided to follow the waiter. She wished Santos had turned right because the hallway on the right continued only a short distance. There were just a few apartments down that portion of the hallway and Essie knew all the residents in them. Unfortunately, Santos had turned left. Taking this route led him down a segment of hallway that ran the full length of the Happy Haven building. Essie thought she knew a good number of the residents who lived down this hallway but she wasn’t exactly certain which room went with which resident.

  She rolled her walker quickly down the corridor to the end where Santos had disappeared from sight. Cautiously, she peeked around the corner and glanced surreptitiously down the left-hand side. She saw Santos’s back walking in the distance. As she followed him with her eyes, he suddenly stopped and knocked on a door on the left. The door opened immediately and Santos slipped inside.

  Now whose apartment is that? thought Essie. Did she dare roll down the hall and read the resident’s name on the door? No, she thought. Santos will probably just drop off the tray and then come back out. She waited and waited. Several minutes went by and Santos did not come out of the room. Now, why is he staying so long after delivering a food tray? she asked herself. She counted the number of doors down the hallway where Santos had entered. Keeping the location of the apartment firmly in her mind, she turned around and pushed her walker back towards her own room and past it and out to the family room where she snatched a comfy, inconspicuous chair. She sat down and waited, her eyes on the hallway, waiting for Santos to return.

  Chapter Ten

  “Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.”

  —Charles M. Schulz

  As she sat in the family room, totally focused on catching Santos when he returned from delivering the food tray, she failed to notice a group of card players at a table nearby. As her eyes continued to squint towards the end of the corridor watching for the waiter, she began to recognize the voices of several residents she knew. She saw several residents and staff members enter and exit the hallway, but no Santos.

  “Essie Cobb!” called out a familiar voice. “You can’t hide over there in that big chair!”

  Essie glanced over and immediately saw Dave Esperti waving at her to join the group of card players. Curses and epithets! she thought. There goes my attempt at spying. With a sigh, she pulled herself out of the comfortable armchair and rolled over to the group of men and women sitting at a small card table. In addition to Dave, she also recognized Hubert Darby. She didn’t know the two female players.

  “Get any more fancy valentines from your secret admirer?” asked Dave. Essie frowned. Even though she knew that most of Happy Haven was apparently aware of her unknown beau, she really didn’t appreciate Dave Esperti teasing her about it.

  “No, I didn’t, Dave,” replied Essie perfunctorily. She smiled briefly at the group and returned her attention to the hallway. Several people disappeared at the far end around the corner. Oh, no! she thought. I didn’t see them. Where did they come from? Maybe I’ve missed Santos. She was annoyed that Dave and the card players had distracted her from her task. Now she might have missed Santos returning down the hallway. Was it safe to check who the resident was in the apartment in which he had gone or not? Essie was totally lost in thought.

  “Hey, Essie!” yelled Dave. “Cat got your tongue? So smitten with your new fellow that you can’t even talk to us regular guys here?” Essie tore herself from her hallway watch and smiled sweetly at Dave and the group.

  “Of course not, Dave,” she said. “You know, just distracted. A senior moment.” She knew that any fault or flaw at Happy Haven could be easily dismissed with the ‘senior moment’ excuse. She used it herself quite frequently although there was usually some other reason. Essie didn’t have many senior moments.

  The ladies at the table laughed and Hubert Darby, who was also one of the card players, blushed. Or at least Essie thought she saw him blush.

  “Essie,” said one of the women. “Ignore Dave. He’s a terrible tease. I, for one, think your secret admirer is one of the most romantic things I’ve heard of in ages. I’m Hazel.” She touched Essie’s hand warmly. Hubert scowled and stared at his cards more intently.

  “I do too,” added the other lady card player. “I’m Mildred. It’s nice to know that there’s at least one man out there who knows how to romance a lady!” She gave pointed looks at both Dave and Hubert. The two men stayed quiet.

  “Actually, Essie,” said Hazel. “I’m jealous of you! I never even got any kind of romantic valentine from my husband when he was alive.”

  “Me neither,” agreed Mildred. “Do you have any idea who he is?”

  “No,” said Essie. Dave and Hubert had apparently bowed out of this conversation. “I wish I did, but it’s a mystery.”

  “That makes it even more romantic, don’t you think?” asked Mildred quietly. She gestured for Essie to come closer. Essie hesitated. She wanted to be polite, but she also wanted to keep her eyes on the hallway so she could see Santos when he returned.

  “Could we see it?” asked Hazel shyly. Essie looked back and forth from one woman to the other. She really didn’t want to display her card around Happy Haven like some wild life trophy from a safari. Like she had bagged an unknown man and this card was the result.

  “Please, Essie,” pleaded Mildred.

  “I really…” began Essie.

  “A little bird says you carry it everywhere with you,” whispered Hazel.

  “Hey, Hazel,” interjected Dave. “Essie doesn’t want to show you the card. Leave her alone!” He slammed a card down on the table. “Trump!” he declared and then slid down in his chair and crossed his arms. The women bristled and Hubert Darby looked up at Essie with a soulful glance.

  Essie felt uncomfortable that she now suddenly found herself in the middle of this dispute. The women at the table were obviously excited about Essie’s valentine and her secret admirer, the men apparently annoyed, possibly even threatened. How could she dispel the bad vibes that she felt from this group and avoid prompting a mini-battle?

  “Oh, Dave!” she declared. “Don’t worry! I don’t mind showing the card to Mildred and Hazel. I’ve shown it to just about everyone else here at Happy Haven!” She lifted her walker seat and produced the cream-colored envelope that remained on the top of her precious pile. She handed it to Hazel who pulled out the card inside and examined it. Mildred reached across the table and grabbed it.

  “Oh, let me see!” she cried. The two women gushed over the valentine while Dave and Hubert fumed.

  “It’s not all that amazing,” noted Dave. “I’ve seen better.”

  “What do you mean you’ve seen better?” asked Hazel. She clutched the card to her chest so Dave couldn’t see it.

  “I mean I’ve given my share of fancy cards, Hazel,” replied Dave, “and some of them have been a lot nicer than this one!�
��

  “Oh, really?” said Hazel. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any valentine quite so elaborate as this.” She held the card with both hands and brought it close to her face. Essie grimaced in fear that the little heart would fall off with all of the handling it was getting, but the glue in the center of the doily held strong.

  “Do you have any idea who your admirer is, Essie?” asked Mildred.

  “No,” replied Essie. “I wish I did.”

  “Just forget him, whoever he is,” continued Dave, now full of his original confidence. “I told you, Essie, I’m the man for you!” He winked at her. Hubert’s eyes widened. He looked over at the flowery card from Essie’s secret admirer.

  “Hubert,” exclaimed Mildred. “What’s wrong?” Indeed, Hubert Darby’s face was a bright shade of red and his mouth looked as if it might explode with some horrible swear word at any moment.

  “Hubert,” added Hazel, “are you okay?”

  Hubert grabbed his suspenders and looked at Essie. Then he looked at the valentine in Hazel’s hands. His hands and shoulders shaking uncontrollably, he ran from the table.

  “What’s wrong with him?” asked Dave.

  Essie was shocked to see that the discussion of her secret admirer valentine had brought out so many emotions in the residents at the table. She had certainly not expected Hubert Darby to react in such a dramatic way. Now she felt terrible. Hubert had always been sweet to her and always a gentleman. The last thing she ever wanted to do was hurt his feelings. Now apparently, she had. She looked up and only then remembered her plan to track Santos’s coming down her hallway. With all the excitement over her valentine, she had completely lost track of the people coming and going from the hallway.

  “I think Hubert’s sweet on you, Essie,” whispered Mildred. “I’d like to know just what you do to get so many men to adore you!”