Of course, not every Valentine’s Day had resulted in misfortune for the Barones. But a number of tragedies, and a lot of things that had gone wrong for the family had happened on that date. On that first Valentine’s Day after their wedding, Angelica miscarried her and Marco’s first child. Some years later on Valentine’s Day, another child of theirs, one of a pair of twin sons, was kidnapped from the hospital nursery when he was only two days old and was never seen again.
And more recently, there had been a professional debacle this past Valentine’s Day, when Baronessa Gelati had thrown a huge gala to launch a new flavor, passionfruit. Someone had spiked the gelato prior to the event with habanero peppers, and everyone who tasted it suffered from a burning mouth. One man had even suffered from an attack of anaphylaxis, a serious allergic reaction. It had been a public-relations nightmare that not even PR whiz Gina had been able to handle. The Barones had been forced to hire an outside spin doctor to help get the company’s image back on track. They were still seeing repercussions from the incident.
Not the least of which was Gina’s marriage to said spin doctor, Flint Kingman, which, now that Rita thought about it, sort of negated the Valentine’s Day curse.
But Rita could still see why Maria might bring up the Valentine’s Day curse now, even if Rita didn’t believe in it herself.
“So the first gift came on Valentine’s Day,” Maria began again. “And the second gift came on your birthday. Both special occasions,” she noted. “But today isn’t a—”
“Today is the third anniversary of my first day working at Boston General,” Rita said morosely. “Another special occasion of sorts. Whoever’s doing this even remembers the day I started working there.”
“But that narrows it down,” Maria said triumphantly. “That means whoever’s leaving these is definitely someone you work with, and he must have been there three years ago when you started.”
Rita rolled her eyes. “Oh, fine. That narrows it down, all right. To about a couple hundred people.”
“But it must be someone you work fairly closely with,” Maria said. “It’s probably someone in CCU.”
“But I started in the E.R.,” Rita reminded her sister. “And then I worked briefly in geriatrics before I moved to CCU.”
“It still must be someone at work,” Maria said. “That’s where the gifts arrive, and with this anniversary thing, you know that must be it.”
It still didn’t help, Rita thought. There were scores of people who could be possibilities.
“I think it’s kind of sweet, really,” Maria said. “Kind of romantic.”
“Romantic?” Rita echoed, thinking that was a strange word to be uttered by a Boston University MBA who spent most of her time working. “Since when did you become such a romantic?”
Maria blushed a little at the question, something else Rita thought odd. “I’m not a romantic,” she said. But there was something in her tone that suggested otherwise. “I just don’t think it’s a stalker, that’s all. I think it’s someone who has a crush on you.”
Rita frowned. “Maria, grown men don’t have crushes.”
“Sure they do,” she objected. “And sometimes it’s the big, strong, tough guys who are the most susceptible.”
Oh, spoken like an idealistic, virginal twenty-three-year-old, Rita thought wryly. Not that Rita should throw stones, seeing as how she was a somewhat idealistic, though definitely virginal twenty-five-year-old. Still, she had seen more of the world than her younger sister had, mostly thanks to that time in the E.R. And she hadn’t seen any big, strong, tough guys who would qualify for secret admirer status. Stalker status, surely, but—
Oh, dammit. She’d let that word out again. Somehow, though, deep down, she wasn’t any more convinced of that possibility than Maria was. Her instincts were good, and although she couldn’t rule out the sinister entirely, Rita still felt more strongly that whoever was leaving the gifts had no intention of hurting her.
But she couldn’t be sure.
Of course, she’d been known to be wrong before.
“I don’t know what to do,” Rita said. “Whether this person is a crazy psycho or not, I don’t like getting anonymous gifts. But I don’t know how to out the person, either.”
Maria nestled the crystal heart back into its tissue bed and replaced the top on the box. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” she said. “But if it makes you feel that uncomfortable, then maybe you should stop wearing the pin and the bracelet. Maybe if you did, your secret admirer would notice, and then maybe he’d say something about it and reveal his identity.”
“I suppose it’s worth a shot,” Rita said absently.
“And if you want to find a new home for this heart…” her sister added with a smile, holding up the box meaningfully.
Rita smiled back as she retrieved the box from Maria’s grasp. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to keep it, but she did. She wasn’t sure why she wore the pin and heart to work everyday, either. Maybe, deep down, she did know whoever was leaving the gifts was doing it because he admired her secretly.
And maybe, deep down, something about that made Rita feel nice. She’d never had anyone admire her before. Not for herself, anyway. She’d had the occasional date in high school and college, of course, but she’d always wondered if the guys in question had only asked her out because she was one of the wealthy Barones. Especially after her twenty-first birthday, when, like all her siblings, she’d come into a trust fund worth a million dollars.
Rita had yet to touch her own million, however, and had instead left it invested, thinking someday she’d need it for something. She didn’t know what. She did know, however, that she wasn’t suited to the social butterfly life, and she loved working as a nurse. Maybe someday, she thought, she’d have children, and she could use the money for them. But her secret admirer obviously didn’t know or care about her wealth, otherwise, he would have revealed himself to her right off the bat, and would have tried to insinuate himself into her life. So maybe it was Rita herself, and not her money, that attracted him. In that respect, she couldn’t help but like him.
“No, the heart is fine where it is,” she said as she took the box from her sister and cradled it in her hand.
She just wished she could say the same for herself. Because in spite of Rita’s instincts saying the contrary, Maria was right in that stalkers tended to target women at their homes, eventually. Rita wondered if her mystery man knew where she lived. If it was indeed someone she worked with, he’d certainly have no trouble locating her. Even if it wasn’t a co-worker, if he’d found her at the hospital, all he would have to do was follow her home one day to find out where she lived. Of course, if he’d done that, he’d also know she walked home alone. And he’d probably know Gina had moved out. And he’d probably know Maria was often not at home these days, something Rita was going to have to ask her younger sister about soon. Which meant he also probably knew that left Rita home alone much of the time.
She exhaled a slow, unsteady breath and told herself she was overreacting. Maria was probably right, too, in that whoever was doing this was harmless. Rita reminded herself that her instincts were good, and that her instincts told her she probably had nothing to fear. But in reminding herself of that, she inescapably reminded herself of something else, too.
That she’d been known to be wrong before.
“Do you have a date for the party next weekend?” Maria asked as she rose to leave. “You did remember the party next weekend, didn’t you, Rita?” she added, probably because she thought Rita didn’t remember.
And she was right. Rita didn’t. Until now.
“The one at the Baronessa business headquarters?” Maria went on. “The one to launch the