Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined (23 page)

“Quickly, everyone!” shouted Sue Barber. “Take your places. 
We’re about ready to begin.”

Essie could see a local news team positioned near the front
entrance.  A woman was holding a microphone and she was accompanied by a young
man holding a large video camera.

“So this is a big event?” Essie asked her friends.

“We may be on television!” said Marjorie, fluffing her hair
and peering over her shoulder at the camera behind them.  From another
location, a camera flashed.   Phyllis and Violet stood watch over the entire
event from the front desk.  Some of the kitchen workers had even stopped
preparing for the next meal and were standing in the doorway of the dining
hall, some even with a dish towel or pan in their hands.

“I told you Dr. Love was a big deal, Essie,” explained
Opal.  “Where were you, anyway?”

“Yoga,” said Essie with a deep sigh.

“Yoga?” asked Marjorie.  “What would possess you to go
there?”

“That’s what I’m asking myself,” replied Essie.  “I have a
new appreciation for contortionists.”

“Okay, residents and guests!” announced Sue Barber, using
her loud stage voice.  “Happy Haven is delighted to have with us today a world
famous expert on love and romance.  And how appropriate is that!  Being it’s
Valentine’s Day!”

The crowd tittered appropriately and the attractive guest
speaker smiled benignly.

“Our speaker is Dr. Emmett Flynn—otherwise known as Dr.
Love.  He is the head of Grace College’s Anthropology Department and is an
expert on the history of romantic love.  Dr. Flynn speaks all over the world on
this topic and we are especially lucky today that he is able to stop by Happy
Haven to regale us with some of his fascinating research.  He even tells me
that he is happy to answer specific questions about love and romance from
audience members.  So, residents, if you have any love problems, here’s the guy
who can provide the solution!”

The man chuckled humbly at this last description as Sue
Barber held out her hand for him to take over.

“I was going to say ‘ladies and gentlemen,’” began Dr. Love,
his chiseled features making him look almost like a fabled Roman statue. 
“However, it appears there are far more ladies here than men!”

The women all laughed.

“Truthfully,” said Dr. Love in a confidential tone, “I
prefer it that way.”  With that, all the women in the audience produced audible
sighs.  From this intimate beginning, Dr. Love continued to weave a spell over
the large crowd that was jammed into the lobby, with quite a bit of overflow in
the family room.  He used stories from history and from his own research to
explain how various romantic practices and terms had come to be.  Every once in
a while, he would suggest that people today experienced similar things and ask
the audience if any of them had any examples to share.   The residents were
quick to open up to the gregarious speaker and soon began sharing their own
personal romantic stories.  Essie was entranced.  At one point, Dr. Love began
discussing the giving and receiving of valentines and this elicited several
residents to offer examples of interesting valentines they had received over
the years.  Dr. Love then mentioned the history and development of the concept
of the ‘secret admirer’ and Dave Esperti, from somewhere in the family room,
shouted out.

“Have Essie Cobb tell about her secret admirer, Doc!” yelled
Dave.

Oh, no
, thought Essie, scrunching down in the sofa in
an attempt to hide between Marjorie and Opal.

“A secret admirer?” asked Dr. Love, looking around.  His
piercing blue eyes captured Essie, now in a little mound on the sofa.  “Would
that be you, Miss?” he asked in a voice dripping with intimacy as he tipped his
head of thick hair in Essie’s direction. 

Essie’s attempt to disappear was to no avail.  Marjorie and
Opal both punched her in the ribs.

“This is Essie, Dr. Love,” yelled Marjorie, pointing at her
friend.

“She has a secret admirer,” added Opal, nodding and smiling
idiotically at the speaker.  Essie had never seen Opal behave like a school
girl before, yet here she was acting like a love-struck teenager.

“So,” declared Dr. Love, reaching out his hand and grabbing
Essie’s hand, and almost effortlessly lifting her from the depths of the sofa
and bringing her up to the front of the crowd with him.  “So, you are the lady
who has a secret admirer?”  He was holding both of Essie’s hands tightly now
and looking straight into her eyes.  Essie could smell his after shave and it
smelled really good.  A manly odor.  This man not only knew a lot about
romance, he obviously also put what he knew into practice.

“Uh, yes,” she mumbled as several cameras flashed. 
Apparently, a photograph of Dr. Love holding hands with a female was far more interesting
than one of him just talking.  Even if the female was ninety years old.

“So, Miss Essie,” Dr. Love said to Essie, and loud enough
for the entire group to hear.  “What do you know about this admirer?  Do you
have any ideas who it might be?”

“No,” replied Essie.  This sad response brought about a
collective sigh.

“You mean,” continued Dr. Love, “you don’t think it’s one of
these fine gentlemen…” he said and gestured to some of the men in the
audience.

“I don’t think so,” replied Essie.  “It came from Boston.”  
The crowd laughed.

“Maybe it’s Paul Revere,” suggested Dr. Love gallantly.

“I’m old, Dr. Love, but I’m not that old,” snorted Essie. 
The crowd laughed and more cameras flashed.

“Well, Miss Essie,” said Dr. Love, “I hope you figure out
who your admirer is, but if you don’t, just remember that the concept of the
secret admirer is truly one of the most romantic in all the history of love. 
Someone who loves but who doesn’t expect to ever have this love reciprocated. 
Now, that’s truly special.  Don’t you think?”  He spread his free hand as he
described the phenomenon of the secret admirer to the audience, all the while
clasping Essie’s hands with his other hand.  Essie considered his ideas.  Of
course, she knew it was all rubbish, but he had a nice chin and he smelled
really good.

Eventually, Dr. Love assisted Essie back to her seat and
concluded his presentation.  Sue Barber jumped up and thanked him profusely for
his entertaining talk and the crowd agreed by applauding loudly for a long
time.  After the speech, Dr. Love continued to speak informally with Sue and
several of the reporters came forward and asked to take close-ups.  One
cameraman wanted a repeat photo of Dr. Love holding Essie’s hands, so she
obliged more than willingly by posing again.  Marjorie, Opal, and Fay seemed to
enjoy all of this vicariously from their seats on the sofa.  Finally, Dr. Love
made his exit and residents and guests dispersed. 

“Essie,” said Marjorie excitedly, “you’re a star!”

“They’ll probably put your picture in the newspaper,” added
Opal.   The four women now found themselves almost alone in the deserted lobby.

“What good will that do me?” asked Essie.  “Will it help me
identify my admirer?”

“Quiet, Essie,” said Marjorie.

“That’s not what you were saying a bit ago, Marjorie!” said
Essie.  “You were more than willing to volunteer me as the recipient of a
secret admirer card for Dr. Love.”

“And you loved every minute of it,” noted Marjorie.

“It’s true, Essie,” added Opal.  “You practically fainted
when that man took your hand and raised it to his lips.”

“Well, he smelled good,” said Essie.

“I smell good,” offered Opal, “but you don’t faint when I
touch you.”

“Never mind, Opal,” sneered Essie.  “You’re making too much
of this.”

“Besides,” countered Opal.  “I wasn’t the one who
volunteered you.  It was Dave Esperti, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes, Essie,” added Marjorie, “Dave seems to have a bit of a
crush on you.”

“As does Hubert Darby,” said Opal.

“And a secret admirer—fake or not!  How come you have all
the boyfriends, Essie?” asked Marjorie.

“Probably because I don’t want any boyfriends,” said Essie,
scowling.  “This conversation is exhausting.  I have work to do.”

“You mean like a nap?” asked Opal.

“You try yoga, Opal, and I bet you’ll want a nap too!”
snapped Essie.  At that moment, Santos passed through the lobby and headed
towards her hallway carrying a food tray.  “See you all later,” she said
cheerily.  She pushed herself up, wobbly from the soft sofa, and limped
uncomfortably over to the far wall where she had parked her walker.  She
grabbed the handles and backed it out of the group of other vehicles.  She
headed off through the family room, following close on Santos’s heels.

At the end of the corridor, she hung back, peeking around
the corner.  As she looked down the hallway, she saw Santos stop at Grace
Bloom’s doorway and knock.  The door opened promptly and Santos entered.

“Root beer floats!” she cried to herself. “That does it!” 
She pushed her walker around the corner and down the hall to Grace Bloom’s
doorway.  Without hesitation, she knocked.  She knocked a second time.  She
could hear people inside mumbling.  Finally, Grace opened the door a crack and
peeked out.

“Essie!” she cried, obviously surprised.  “What do you
want?”

“I want Santos,” said Essie.  “I saw him come in here with a
food tray.  I assumed it was because you are sick, Grace.  But you don’t look
sick to me!”

Chapter Twenty Nine

“There’s a lot to be said for
self-delusionment when it comes to matters of the heart.”

—Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

Grace appeared mystified and remained clutching the door
frame, staring at Essie.  Finally, Essie saw Santos’s head pop up over Grace’s.

“Miss Essie!” he whispered.  “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you, Santos!” said Essie, pointing
her finger.  “You told me you weren’t bringing trays to Grace.  You obviously
lied.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Miss Essie,” Santos whispered. 

Grace shrugged her shoulders and looked up at the young
man.  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she sighed.  “We might as well let her in. 
She’s going to pester us until we do.”  Santos gave Grace a pained and
quizzical look.   Eventually, he relented and the door was opened.  Santos and
Grace stood aside and allowed Essie to enter Grace’s small apartment.  This
living room was almost identical to Essie’s.  Of course, Grace had different
furniture, but Essie knew exactly where the bedroom and bathroom were located
because the floor plan was the same as hers.   Nothing about Grace’s homey
apartment would indicate that she was ill.  Essie saw no signs of medicine or
piles of tissues or anything medical.  Grace was dressed and showed no obvious
signs of distress. She didn’t even see the food tray that Santos had brought. 
It was neither in Grace’s small kitchen nor anywhere visible in her living
room.

“So?” asked Essie.  “What’s all the secrecy?  Why are you
bringing Grace a food tray?  Are you sick, Grace?  I’m just concerned.”

“Sometimes, Essie,” said Grace, hands on hips, “sometimes
it’s best to stay out of other people’s business.”  She shook her head in
annoyance.

“I am sure Miss Essie will keep secret, Miss Bloom,” said
Santos to Grace.

“What secret?” asked Essie.

“Oh, Lord!” sighed Grace.  “Come on!  I’ll show you!”  She
motioned for Essie to follow her into the bedroom.  Santos followed the two
women.  Arriving in the bedroom, Essie saw immediately what Santos and Grace
had been working so hard to keep secret.  On one side of the room was Grace’s
small bed, flush against the wall.  On the other side, on the floor, a large
blanket was spread out, surrounded by a wall of pillows.  Inside the pillows,
flailing around were six or seven rambunctious little white and black puppies
of an indeterminate breed.  They were all making sad, whiny noises.  A small
doll’s bottle full of milk resided on Grace’s nightstand.  The food tray that
Santos had apparently delivered was on Grace’s bed.  Instead of a plate of
food, it held a paper carton of milk. 

“Puppies!” cried Essie.  “That’s your big secret?”

“Obviously,” said Grace, “I can’t let the staff know.  Pets
are not allowed at Happy Haven.  You know that, Essie.”

Essie did know this restriction and although sometimes Happy
Haven made exceptions to this rule, such as when a resident required a
companion dog, residents were not allowed to bring in pets merely for social
purposes. 

“How many are there?” asked Essie.

“Six,” said Grace.  “The mother is dead.   My grandson found
the puppies behind his home.  He wanted to keep them and care for them himself,
but his parents…”

“Grandson beg Miss Bloom to take puppies,” added Santos. 
“She very good mother to puppies.”  He smiled at Essie.  “You understand, Miss
Essie.  You understand about taking care of babies.”  And, of course, Essie did
understand.  She had been a mother—never of dogs before—but she could certainly
understand Grace Bloom’s determination not to see these little creatures
abandoned after having lost their mother.

“My husband would have insisted on taking them in when he
was alive,” added Grace.  “He was a vet and he would have taken these puppies
in without a second thought.  I couldn’t do otherwise.  Santos has been helping
me by bringing me milk for them and by babysitting them so I could get out to
my meals and other things from time to time.  He’s also found new homes for
most of them when they are old enough.”

“Yes, Santos is good about that,” added Essie.  “Well, don’t
worry, Grace.  Your secret is safe with me.  I’m surely not going to tell
anyone.  And, if you need some help babysitting these little fellows, just let
me know.  I have a bit of experience in that area myself.”  She smiled warmly
at the two human puppy parents and they returned her smile.  Essie knelt down,
her knees creaking audibly, and rubbed the nose of one of the pups.  The little
dog responded by licking Essie’s hand madly and whimpering.