Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined (18 page)

“All love that has not friendship for
its base, is like a mansion built upon sand.”

—Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Breakfast proved to be quite special.  The chef had prepared
a Valentine’s Day treat for all the residents—heart-shaped pancakes covered
with strawberries.  A sprinkling of powdered sugar garnished the top.  The
whole dish was enchantingly pretty, thought Essie.  It was a nice break from
the usual fare.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Santos had greeted them.  The juice
was even themed for the day—pomegranate—a bright red.   It was something Essie
had never tasted before.  She decided after a few sips that she preferred
orange juice, but she was always willing to try something new.

“So, Essie,” whispered Marjorie when the meals had all been
delivered.  “Anything new to report on… you know what?”  Marjorie bent low
and looked around suspiciously.

“There’s no faulting your spy credentials, Marjorie,” said
Essie with a sneer.  “Let’s try not to call attention to ourselves.  All
right?”

“No one is doing that, Essie,” replied Opal, in defense of
Marjorie.  “You can’t expect us not to be curious about what’s going on
after…everything that occurred yesterday.”  She covered her mouth discreetly
with her napkin when she said this last part.

“No one is looking at us or paying us the least attention,”
replied Essie as she glanced around the dining hall.  Indeed, all the residents
seemed far more interested in their festive pancakes than they were in
overhearing the conversations at any nearby tables.

“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 request.

“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.