Free Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined by Patricia Rockwell

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