The first one had been a box of fancy pears.
The second a case of Hershey Dove bars.
The third was a set of three blue and white potholders in a French design with chickens on them.
And today's-- the Bird with the Crystal Plumage blu ray.
Today's blu ray was the first that indicated any personal knowledge of my tastes. Everyone liked pears and chocolates. And the potholders would make a suitable hostess gift for a total stranger.
I felt like I was missing something.
I took a photo and put it on my Facebook page. Someone is anonymously sending me gifts. Kind of driving me bonkers. Anyone have any clue as to who's doing this? Or a way I can find out?
The hive mind did not disappoint. Within minutes, several people pointed out what I'd failed to see.
A partridge in a pear tree.
Two turtle doves.
Three French hens.
Four calling birds.
The gifts were referencing the Twelve Days of Christmas.
I grinned when I saw the connection, delighted. Very clever! The gifts weren't expensive in and of themselves, but someone was going to a fair amount of trouble to think these up and get them delivered. Going to all that trouble--for me.
But who?
The next day when Hunky UPS Guy rang my doorbell, I was expecting him--or at least laying good odds there'd be another package. I'd even put on a nice shirt.
It's tempting to get sloppy when you work at home and live alone. But just knowing the good-looking delivery man would be seeing me was enough motivation to shave and put on a fresh purple button-down shirt. Yes, I really was, and always would be, gay. I put on my black mask before opening the door.
He held a box that was long and flat. "This is becoming a habit," he said, eyes crinkled with amusement above his mask.
"I know. Sorry this is making extra work for you."
"Are you kidding? Best thing in my day. I kept thinking about what you said. You really don't know who's sending these packages?"
I shook my head. "I really don't."
"Hmm. I like that. I'm a participant in a mystery. Maybe even a great romance."
"Yeah, probably not that," I said wryly, wishing he could see my smile. "But I tell you what--if I'm wrong, you'll be the first to be invited to the wedding."
"I certainly hope so," he said smoothly. "Or you might write a story about it, and I'll have a bit part."
I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise.
He ducked his head. "I delivered some boxes from a publisher over the summer. I figured you're a writer."
"Yes. Yes, I am."
Hunky UPS Guy was starting to intrigue me. He was clearly more than nice biceps and a fine set of calves. I leaned against the open doorway and tucked the new package under my arm. "Do you remember all the packages you deliver?"
He appeared to grimace behind his mask. "It probably sounds like I'm a snoop. I'm really not. It's just that I deliver so many boxes that are the same. Amazon. Walgreens. Target. CVS. So I tend to notice when something's atypical. You get to know your customers on a route. Who's a doctor. Who has pets. Who's--"
"A writer."
He wiped his brow with his sleeve. He had nice hands too. Sturdy and capable. "I would never tell a living soul what my customers receive in the mail. But it's hard not to notice."
I chuckled. "Well. If you ever want to retire, I'm sure there's blackmail opportunity there. 'A dildo for Mr. O'Brien on South Street.'"
He laughed. "In this neighborhood, it's more who doesn't get dildos by mail." He winked at me cheekily. "Anyway. You have a good day, Mr. Nielsen."
He walked back to his truck. This time I didn't try to hide the fact that I was watching him. He gave me a wave before driving off.
Well that was interesting. And perhaps I was starved for human contact in this age of COVID, but I whistled happily as I went back inside, cheered by the short—and, dare I think it—flirty?—interaction.
I suppose it was no shocker that the UPS guy who serviced Port Lodge would be aware of the demographics of this little slice of heaven. Port Lodge wasn't exclusively gay by any means, but it was one of the gayer areas outside of Seattle's Capitol Hill, where I'd lived for many years. Port Lodge was too far away from Seattle to comfortably commute, and therefore had retirees, work-from-homers like me, and a thriving artist community. And it had lots of gays.
As my friend Sean put it, it wasn't a "party gays" scene, but rather a "settled down gays" type of community. I wasn't sure that was ideal for me since I was single. But I was happy to be out of the city, and I found the vibe very safe and comforting. It was as much of a draw as the water views and lush green trees.
Unfortunately, I hadn't had the opportunity to find out if there were single men about. I'd moved here six months ago in the middle of a pandemic. Invitations to local barbecues were hard to come by these days. And Sean and Graham, my friends who lived in Port Lodge, and who'd introduced me to this place, were off doing a house sit in Canada.
And what about Hunky UPS Guy? Was he gay or simply comfortable with his customers who were? He'd fit right in on a YMCA cosplay, with his uniform over all that lush muscle. But that didn't make him gay.
I sighed and took my package inside. Gay or not, I was getting ahead of myself if I thought he was flirting. I really was starved for human contact.
What I should be focusing on was my secret Santa. Now there was someone who was trying to get my attention. What would be inside today? Was it too much to hope for a clue as to the sender?
Today's gift was a set of wooden napkin rings painted a matte gold. Five gold rings. There were only four in the box, but it was close enough.
We were definitely twelve days of Christmassing then.
How wonderfully bizarre.
Chapter Two
"Another package today. The plot thickens." Hunky UPS guy held out today's box. It was large, maybe twenty-four inches across.
I wore a green sweater, one my friends said complemented my dirty blond hair and brown eyes. They'd laugh at me hysterically if they knew I was dressing up for the UPS man.
Then again, if they saw him, they'd be shoving me out of the way.
I took the package and looked at the return address. Amazon. "I haven't ordered anything, so it must be from my mystery man."
"He's certainly laying it on thick." Hunky UPS Guy leaned against one of the wooden pillars that held up the overhang above my small front porch. I felt a flutter of excitement in my belly. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. And I wasn't in a hurry to have him gone. It was very rainy--not unusual for December in the Pacific Northwest. Maybe he needed a moment's respite from driving in that mess.
"There is a plan behind all these gifts," I explained. "It seems my anonymous friend is doing the Twelve Days of Christmas. Which would make this package the fifth of twelve. Possibly. If he doesn't get bored of the game or run out of funding."
"The Twelve Days of Christmas?" UPS Guy sounded dubious. "Wouldn't that require live birds and ducks and things?"
"Well, it's a very loose interpretation." I explained about the poem and the five gifts that seemed to match it so far.