Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined

by Patricia Rockwell

  “I hope someone is paying attention to us,” said Opal. “I mean Detective Abbott did say they’d have an undercover agent keeping an eye out for our drug dealer.” Opal again patted her mouth as she mumbled this sentence.

  “If there is someone watching us, they’re certainly being very discreet,” noted Essie. Then, almost to herself she added, “Maybe that’s why no one came into my room last night.”

  “What?” asked Marjorie, her head inclined towards Essie politely. “Essie, you said you were going to personally track down the…individual in question…and you weren’t going to let the warnings from the… authorities…stand in your way.”

  “And I still believe that, Marjorie,” said Essie. “But I’m going about it with delicacy and not like a bull in a china shop.”

  “Is that how you think I would do it?” asked Marjorie, slapping her napkin in her lap.

  “No, of course not,” replied Essie calmly. “I just want you all to know that I did take the warnings we received yesterday to heart, and although I don’t intend to follow those warnings to the letter, I do intend to honor their spirit.”

  “Now, what does that mean, Essie?” asked Opal skeptically. She adjusted her eyeglasses and peered over the edges at her friend.

  “Yes, Essie,” added Marjorie, “just what is it you intend to do?”

  “What I already have done!” said Essie sweetly. She reached over to her walker and opened the seat. From inside she pulled out the cream-colored envelope that contained the fake card. She held it up in front of her chest so her tablemates could see it.

  “What is that?” asked Opal.

  “You know what it is,” answered Essie in a low voice that contradicted her smiling face.

  “I thought you… gave it to…you know,” said Marjorie in a whisper, glancing around cautiously to see if any of the residents at the other tables had noticed the envelope that Essie was now displaying. No one seemed to be paying any attention to what was happening at Essie’s table.

  “Did the…authorities…uh, bring it back to you?” asked Opal, obviously confused, as she too looked around cautiously.

  “No,” said Essie calmly. “They still have it.” She closed her mouth and looked wide-eyed at her friends. Even Fay stared at the envelope in apparent mystery.

  “So, what is that?” asked Marjorie, nodding at the card.

  “This is the card from my secret admirer,” replied Essie, doing nothing to dispel the confusion.

  “The one sent to you from Boston,” added Opal.

  “Not exactly,” said Essie, with a slight shrug.

  “You mean you received another card from your secret admirer?” asked Marjorie with excitement.

  “No,” said Essie. Then with a quick look around to be certain no one was listening, she whispered very softly, “I made it.” She carefully opened the envelope and gently removed the card inside.

  “What?” cried Marjorie.

  “You heard me, Marjorie,” said Essie. Still whispering, she continued, “I worked on it all last night. I gathered all of the material from old cards and things I had in my desk. I remembered what the original card looked like, so I made a duplicate out of those things. I tried my best to make it look like the one I got from the secret admirer. What do you think?” She held the card up a bit higher, almost to nose height and looked from one woman to another.

  “It’s amazing, actually,” said Opal. It never occurred to me that it was a different card. The envelope is virtually identical, so I just assumed it was the same. I didn’t really pay that much attention to the card itself, but when you showed it, it seemed like the other one. What do you think, Marjorie?”

  “Me too!” agreed the brunette, eyes agog. “I can’t believe you made that, Essie.” She was having difficulty keeping her voice low with the obvious excitement she was experiencing. “Let me see it!” She reached over in an attempt to grab it from Essie. Essie quickly pulled it back.

  “No!” she cried in a soft voice. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Why not?” asked Opal. “We’re not going to tell anyone. We’re on your side. Maybe if we look at it, we can give you some suggestions to improve it.”

  “I’m sure you could,” said Essie, “but that’s not the reason I can’t let you see it. I can’t really have anyone touching the little heart I made. It’s rather delicate and it might fall apart and I’m just not sure I could put it back together again if it did. It took forever to get it the way it is now. You understand, don’t you?” She gave her sickeningly sweet false smile, hoping against hope that her friends would go along with her and not demand to see—or worse yet, touch—the card itself.

  “I’d be careful,” whined Marjorie.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Marjorie,” added Opal. “If she really doesn’t want us to touch it. Can’t you just hold it a little closer to us?”

  “Opal,” said Essie, pleading, “I really want to keep it under wraps. Of course, I want people here at Happy Haven to know I have it so they’ll spread the word, but I don’t want anyone to get a close view because they might mention a feature that isn’t the same as the original and if the original sender got wind of that, he might be scared off.”

  “Oh, okay, Essie,” said Marjorie. “I won’t press you on it. Truly, I think this is a far-fetched and possibly dangerous idea, but I’ll support you. And if you don’t want me to see it any closer, so be it.”

  “Opal?”

  “All right, Essie,” replied Opal. She brought her palms together in prayer position, almost as if she were giving Essie her blessing.

  “Fay?” asked Essie. Fay looked from Opal to Marjorie and then back to Essie. Finally, she nodded several times in agreement. Essie held the card to her chest and then out in front of her as she looked at it.

  “More coffee, ladies?” asked Santos, appearing at Essie’s side with a silver urn. Essie had no time to put the card back in its envelope. “Oh, Miss Essie! Is that card from your secret admirer?” Essie mumbled something and attempted to cover the card with the envelope.

  “Um, Santos,” said Opal, motioning him with her finger. “I’d like more coffee, please.”

  “Me too, Santos,” added Marjorie. Fay pointed to her empty cup also. Their distractions allowed Essie time to slip the fake card back in its envelope. Santos quickly refilled all four cups.

  “Did you find out who is secret admirer, Miss Essie?” he continued to probe, apparently unaware that Essie and her entire table were unwilling to discuss the matter.

  “No,” she replied, “actually, it’s more romantic not to know, Santos! It would probably spoil it if I knew who it was!” By now, she had replaced the card in its envelope and put the envelope back in the basket beneath her walker seat.

  “I believe there are many secret admirers for you here at Happy Haven, Miss Essie,” continued Santos. “They secret only if you want them to be, Miss Essie. If you give these men a sign, Miss Essie, I am sure they will no longer be secret admirers.” He smiled sweetly at her. Essie had assisted Santos with various endeavors in the past and she knew he appreciated her greatly—probably more than did many or most other people at Happy Haven.

  “Well, that’s not going to happen, Santos,” replied Essie. “This secret admirer is going to stay that way—secret!”

  “I not send card, Miss Essie,” he said, now standing and holding the coffee pot with both hands, “but I am one of your admirers!” He smiled, and then suddenly recognized the implications of his statement. “Oh, not romantic, Miss Essie…”

  “I should hope not!” Essie snorted.

  “But I admire you like I admire my… madre!”

  The other ladies at the table tittered at this unsolicited expression of devotion from the young waiter.

  “If you admire me so much, Santos,” said Essie, “then maybe you could help me out with a little question I have.”

  “Of course, Miss Essie,” he replied, jiggling up and down a bit in anticipation of Essie’s re
quest.

  “Could you tell me why you’re delivering meals to Grace Bloom?” she asked. Santos’s smile disappeared. He quickly looked from Essie to her friends and back.

  “Miss Essie,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I not deliver meals to Miss Bloom. Need to get back to kitchen now. Hope you find secret admirer. Good-bye, Miss Essie. Ladies.” He gave a quick bow and then virtually sprinted back into the kitchen.

  “Essie,” cried Opal, “that was horrible! You put that poor young man on the spot!”

  “I put him on the spot?” retorted Essie.

  “Yes,” replied Opal. “He obviously didn’t want to tell you about Grace Bloom, or maybe he couldn’t tell you about Grace Bloom.”

  “Why not?” Essie asked. “What’s so secret about a resident getting meals in her room? If she’s ill, I’d like to know so I can visit her or do something nice for her.”

  “You think Grace is ill?” asked Marjorie.

  “Of course not,” said Essie. “I saw her in line for dinner last night. And the other day I actually knocked on her door and she answered. She didn’t seem at all sick to me. Although, she wouldn’t let me in her room or even see inside her room.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, Essie,” noted Opal. “You can be a bit pushy. Grace doesn’t know you like we do.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Opal,” Essie said with a huff. “But mark my word; there is something fishy going on there.”

  “Well, you don’t have time to worry about Grace Bloom and track down your secret admirer too,” explained Opal. “You’d better focus on one or the other.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Opal,” said Essie. “Haven’t you heard of multi-tasking?”

  “I’d focus on the letter if I were you,” suggested Marjorie. “It has the potential for being much more dangerous.”

  “You don’t know that, Marjorie,” said Essie.

  “You think Grace Bloom presents some sort of threat to us?” asked Marjorie.

  “No,” replied Essie, “but something strange is going on in her room and I intend to find out. Just like I intend to find my…secret admirer.” She eyed her walker basket knowingly.

  “Just be careful, Essie,” said Opal, shaking her finger in Essie’s direction.

  “Yes, Essie, be careful,” added Marjorie, also extending a finger of admonition. As two fingers came at her from both sides of the table, Essie looked up at silent Fay in her wheelchair. The chubby little woman looked around at her friends and then extended her index finger directly at Essie.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.”

  —Robert Frost

  Leaving the dining hall, Essie stopped briefly at her mail box to see if the morning mail had arrived. It had. In fact, included among all the regular junk mail, there were two envelopes with her name hand written on the front. Just her name—no address. The cards had just been dropped in the Happy Haven mail for Phyllis to distribute. Oh, no! she thought. Someone—obviously someone here at Happy Haven—had probably sent her valentines. And she hadn’t purchased valentines for anyone. It couldn’t be Marjorie or Fay or Opal. The four of them had agreed long ago not to indulge in such wasteful practices. They merely wished each other verbal greetings on various holidays. Essie piled her mail in her basket on top of her fake valentine and headed off towards her apartment.

  When she reached her room, she plopped down in her recliner and drew out the pile of mail. First things first, she thought. She opened one of the greeting cards. It was definitely a valentine. Not as flowery or profuse as the one from her secret admirer, but a very nice card just the same. She opened the card and read the message inside. It was simple but sweet. The card was signed, “With all my heart, Hubert.” That is nice, she thought. Hubert had a great deal of trouble expressing his feelings orally, so sending her a card was a natural approach for the exceedingly shy man. Over the years, Essie had tried to bolster Hubert’s confidence and be a good friend to him. She knew that Hubert longed for a more emotional arrangement, but that would never be possible and Essie did everything she could to dissuade him without thoroughly destroying his delicate ego.

  She set Hubert’s card aside and picked up the second envelope. She opened it and also found a sweet valentine. This one featured little bears in human clothes expressing very human sentiments. It was charming and certainly not too cloying. The message inside made her chuckle. It was signed “Dave Esperti.” Hmmm, she thought, I didn’t think Dave could be this considerate. I just thought he was an inveterate flirt. I wonder if he sent cards like this to all the women at Happy Haven. I wouldn’t put it past him. She laughed. It was a relief that the two valentines were from actual people she knew and not from some unknown secret admirer. If that were the case, she would simply pull out her hair.

  “Residents!” sang out Phyllis’s voice over the Intercom. “Don’t forget our big event this afternoon! Dr. Love, otherwise known as the Guru of Romance will be speaking in the lobby at two o’clock. He’ll tell us all about the history of romantic love AND he’ll answer your questions about love and romance. Now isn’t that a perfect program for Valentine’s Day!” Phyllis gushed some more as she provided the background of the speaker who was actually an anthropology professor from the local college—Grace University. Essie was sure that most residents would probably attend because it sounded like it would be FUN (according to Phyllis), and most of the residents always enjoyed FUN programs. Essie, however, considered such events a waste of time. She would much rather be doing something constructive. And right now, the most constructive thing she could think of doing was finding out who the secret admirer, alias Happy Haven drug dealer, was. She had waved the fake card around at breakfast, but decided that she needed to flaunt it a bit more if she was going to be sure that the unknown dealer was aware that she still had it.

  She made a much needed bathroom trip and then returned to her recliner where she whipped off several puzzles she had been working on. Nothing like a good puzzle to tweak the little brain cells, she told herself. She knew she had to be in top mental and physical form (as top as that form could be for a ninety-year-old lady) when she battled wits with the Happy Haven drug dealer. She’d have to think of a better name for him. As she didn’t know who it was, it didn’t seem right to constantly refer to him as a him. It might be a woman. In fact, it most likely was a woman as women outnumbered men at Happy Haven eight to one—at least among the residents. She surmised that the proportion was probably somewhat similar among the staff too. Most of the nurses’ aides were women, although she tended to think that the kitchen staff was more equally divided between men and women. As for the upper management, now that she thought about it, they were all female. Indeed, the Happy Haven drug dealer most likely was a woman. How disgusting, she thought. She couldn’t even imagine a woman doing something as vile as selling drugs—particularly a woman who worked at an assisted living facility. She knew that everyone who worked at Happy Haven was not a saint but she wanted to believe that the staff there was one of the kindest and most thoughtful anywhere. How was it possible that someone who she may have considered a sweet, gentle person for years had actually been making a profit selling illegal drugs?

  She gave up this useless line of reasoning and headed out into the family room. Amazingly enough, Dave and Hubert were playing cards with Betsy and Nadine again. They obviously were a happy foursome. It was a perfect set-up, thought Essie. They can keep playing and I’ll just plant a little bit of information among the four. She rolled over slowly, smiling at other residents who were seated in the family room.

  “I played that card, Hubert!” shouted Dave at his partner. The two women smiled and attempted to contain their delight. Hubert slammed his cards on the table.

  “I don’t like to play with you,” Hubert pouted.

  “Now, Hubert,” said Betsy softly, patting Hubert’s hand. “It was an easy mist
ake. It happens to me all the time.” She smiled sweetly at him and he blushed and looked down.

  “Really, Dave,” scolded Nadine. “It’s just a game.”

  Essie pushed her walker to the corner of the table, right between Hubert and Betsy.

  “Hello,” she said. “This sounds like a very exciting game!”

  “It is when you have a partner who knows what he’s doing!” shouted Dave to Hubert. Hubert pulled his head down into his big body like a giant ostrich.

  “Actually,” Essie continued, “I wanted to stop by and thank you for the lovely valentine.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome, Essie,” replied Dave. His eyes suddenly changed from anger at Hubert to flirtatious merriment. “Hope it makes you forget that silly petticoat-looking one you got from that loony secret admirer. I send cards to all my girls.” He smiled in a smarmy way at the other women at the table and they both beamed back at him.

  “Did you get my card, Miss Essie?” Hubert asked, raising his head maybe an inch from his shoulders.

  “Yes, Hubert, I did,” said Essie. “I loved it!” Hubert glowed. Dave sneered and began to shuffle the cards for the next round.

  “Do you want to join our game, Miss Essie?” Hubert asked.

  “Oh, thank you for asking, Hubert,” she replied, “but I really just stopped by to thank you both for the valentines. My goodness! I don’t know when I’ve received so many lovely cards.” She reached down into her basket and pulled the fake valentine from her basket. “It’s amazing how beautiful some valentines are, isn’t it?” She carefully slipped the fake card from the envelope and held it up adoringly. “Isn’t this card beautiful? This is the one my secret admirer sent!”

  Dave snorted and focused on his cards. Hubert looked forlorn. Betsy gave Essie a confused look followed by a subtle warning glance. Only Nadine responded in the way Essie hoped. She gushed.

  “Oh, Essie!” Nadine cried. “That’s gorgeous! Do you have any idea who your admirer is?”

  “No,” said Essie. “All I know is that it was postmarked Boston. I’ve thought and thought about anyone I might know or have known in Boston, but I just can’t think of anyone. Of course, it could be someone I met somewhere else who moved to Boston. You know, Nadine, I’ve lived here in Reardon all my life. Anyone who knew me many years ago might be able to guess that I still lived here and be able to track me down. It’s not as if Reardon is that large or that there are that many Essie Cobbs who live here.”