Sweet Masterpiece - The First Samantha Sweet Mystery (10 page)

A tap at the kitchen door caught her
attention. Zoe turned the knob and came in.

“Hey. You guys must be way into your own
zone,” she said. “I knocked at the front door twice. Figured you
had to be here since your truck is out front.”

Sam gestured toward the counters and table,
which were covered with racks of cookies at various stages of
completion.

“Quick question and I’ll leave you alone,”
Zoe said. “Can I borrow your truck tomorrow, for the day? Darryl’s
just informed me that he’s working and needs his truck, and I have
some furniture to take to the library’s garage sale fundraiser. I
told them I’d also help haul away anything that doesn’t sell by
five o’clock. They donate it to the homeless shelter.”

“Ooh. I have to get all these cookies
delivered to Santa Fe.”

She leaned against the counter, wheels
turning. “How about we trade vehicles? Can you fit all the cookies
into my Subaru wagon?”

“That’ll work.”

“Let’s just trade keys now. Sounds like we’ll
both be done by early evening and we can switch back then.”

Sam wiped frosting off her hands, fetched the
truck keys from her backpack and got Zoe on her way. The rest of
the baking operation went smoothly and she was surprised to see
that it was only four o’clock as she started clearing the mixing
bowls and putting the utensils to soak in the sink.

“You, girl, sure know how to roar through an
order,” Rupert commented, plopping into one of the kitchen chairs.
“I’m beat.”

She stared around the room. They’d
accomplished an amazing amount of baking in a short time, and the
results were stacked everywhere. “Thank goodness for triple-decked
racks,” she said. “This kitchen is so inadequate.”

“Hey, you’ll get your shop. My offer still
stands.”

He’d generously proposed to loan Sam the
money to properly open Sweet’s Sweets. She had to admit that it was
tempting to take him up on it. But she also knew that opening a
retail store was a risky thing. There would be a lot of expenses
that she couldn’t foresee, and she’d feel better if she could at
least foot most of the bill herself, without the worry of repaying
a loan. A flash of irritation, again, at her daughter for helping
herself to the savings Sam had so carefully accumulated. She
suppressed it and turned on a flame under the tea kettle.

“I think we can spare a few of these little
beauties and have ourselves a proper tea,” she told Rupert, handing
him a plate.

He chose an assortment of the cookies and she
poured them each a cup of Earl Grey.

Sam woke up Sunday morning feeling satisfied.
After she’d taken Rupert home—he swore that the cookies had given
him renewed energy to get back to his writing—she’d pulled out
disposable platters and carefully arranged the cookies in two nice
displays, topping them with plastic covers. They’d made a couple
dozen extras, just in case, and she made up a few sampler baggies.
It never hurt to throw in a few gifts along the way.

After a slow-paced morning at home she loaded
up her treasures and headed for Santa Fe. The hour and a half drive
went smoothly, the only traffic snags coming as she approached the
northern edge of the capital city, where weekends brought crowds
out to the flea market. By then she was watching for the turnoff to
Casa de Tranquilidad, where she followed a winding gravel road to
the hotel resort. The meandering adobe building sat at an overlook,
surrounded by pine forest. Really a beautiful spot for conferences
or weddings or social events. Sam hoped her effort on the cookies
would bring even more business from them.

She pulled under the portico at the front
entrance, unsure which meeting room was her destination. The
hotel’s conference coordinator usually suggested she avoid the
bustle of the kitchen, as long as the client’s meeting room was
available. She made a quick inquiry at the front desk, got her
instructions and headed back to the car. The valet parking
attendant seemed a bit impatient at the length of time she’d parked
and she felt pressure to stack the trays and carry them both at
once. About the time she’d nearly dumped one of them a young woman
with long auburn hair came walking up. She looked like a hotel
guest, carrying a leather duffle, and she noticed Sam’s plight.

“Could I help you with those?” she asked,
dropping her bag near the Subaru.

Sam gladly handed off one of the trays.
“Thanks. It wasn’t smart for me to try handling both of them.”

She followed Sam inside and they set down
their burdens. Back at the car the younger woman picked up her
duffle, introducing herself as Charlie Parker.

“Here, Charlie, let me . . .” Sam reached for
the samples she’d bagged up. “If you ever need pastries, give me a
call.”

She looked at Sam’s card and thanked her,
eyeing the cookies—obviously a girl who liked her sweets, although
her slender figure belied that. Sam gave her a smile and then
caught the eye of the valet who was clearly sending annoyance vibes
her way. She climbed back into the car as Charlie went into the
lobby.

Sam stopped in Espanola for a quick burger
and reached the outskirts of Taos as it was getting dark. Her cell
phone rang about two seconds after she’d traded Zoe’s Subaru back
for her pickup truck, Beau asking if she’d like to meet for dinner.
She explained about the burger and he sounded so disappointed that
she caved and said she’d love an ice cream.

They decided that the Sonic Drive-in on the
south side of town could satisfy both his need for solid food and
her ice cream desires. She headed that way and had just pulled in
when she spotted his Explorer behind her. He parked it at the side
of the property and Sam pulled in at one of the slots with the
old-time speakers for ordering. He climbed into her truck and they
stared at the menu and placed their orders.

“I’m glad you were available on short
notice,” he said, sending a genuine smile her way. “This way it’s
not officially a date.”

She sent him a saucy grin and told him about
the delivery in Santa Fe. “You caught me just at the right moment.
Otherwise, I’d have been snug inside.”

He gave her a long, intent gaze. “Sam, I . .
.”

Before he could finish the thought, a girl
arrived with their tray. In the exchange of wrapped food, drinks,
and cash, Beau took charge and Sam simply accepted her hot fudge
sundae and watched as he unwrapped his chicken sandwich.

“Is there anything new on Cantone’s
death?”

“Not yet. Still waiting on some lab results.”
He turned sideways in his seat to face her. “But I don’t want to
think about work right now.”

She’d set her empty sundae dish in the cup
holder between them and he reached over to run a gentle finger down
her forearm. He’d hardly taken two bites of his sandwich.

“Sam, I don’t really know how to say this, so
I’ll just say it. I’m incredibly attracted to you.”

She blushed and fiddled with a wadded
napkin.

“You’re a sexy lady, Sam. Don’t you see
that?”

“Ha!” It had been a whole lot of years since
she’d seen herself as sexy. She met his gaze. “What is it that you
see in me, really? I mean, you are this incredibly attractive man
who could be dating fashion models, or at least women who are a lot
younger and are built like fashion models. Why me?”

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I
love your smile, the way you laugh so easily, your energy. I’ve
dated enough empty-headed, self-centered, beautiful women to know
that they are a waste of my time.”

“Really?” She’d never met a man like Beau who
felt that way.

“The kiss the other night at the gorge was
really nice . . .”

Now she knew she was blushing furiously. She
glanced around at the other cars but no one seemed to be noticing
them. And she had to agree; his kisses were the kind that sent
lusty surges through her.

“So . . . could we go to your place?” he
said.

All her common sense talk rushed at her.
It’s too soon in the relationship. Is he genuine or is he using
me? Am I really attracted to him?
The thoughts lasted a good
five seconds. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had casual sex before—just
not in a whole lot of years. And maybe with Beau it would be more
than casual. What would it hurt?

“Let’s go,” she said.

He got out of the truck and followed her
through town, parking on the street. Sam pulled into her driveway,
feeling the flush of desire and anticipation.

Then she noticed something else.

Parked in the wide turnaround spot at the
back of her drive was a car. A shiny new Mustang convertible.
Kelly.

Her daughter.

Chapter 13

Beau came walking up, just as she cut the
truck’s engine and got out. She waved helplessly at the red car.
His face collapsed into the same
oh shit
expression that Sam
imagined on her own.

“I have no idea what she’s doing here,” she
said. “She lives in L.A. and only visits me when—”

“When there’s trouble,” he finished. “I’ll
go. You sort it out and call me later. Let me know if you need any
help.”

He gave her a lingering kiss and walked down
the driveway.

Sam knew she should have expected this. Kelly
had borrowed her bank balance a few weeks ago. That was the
warning, the clue that should have let her know that her daughter
would show up on her doorstep.

She walked to the back door, dreading the
conversation that was about to take place.

Kelly, the girl who alternately charms my
heart and wrenches my guts
, Sam thought.
The young woman who
should be out on her own—she’s thirty-four years old, after all—but
who shows up uninvited at the worst possible times.

She paused at the door, the past flooding
back. Thirty-five years ago Samantha Sweet had been this dumb girl
just out of high school in small town Texas, seeing no future
whatsoever in her job at the Dairy Queen. Billy Roy Farmer, from a
long line of cotton-farming Farmers, was sniffing around like a
horny dog. They’d lost their virginity together but truthfully Sam
just couldn’t see herself settling into a life of Tupperware
parties, Friday night football games, Wednesdays and Sundays at the
Baptist church, and forever looking out a kitchen window at miles
of
flat
. Cause that’s what a cotton farm in Texas
was—flat.

Her life would become her mother’s, and at
night in the room Sam shared with her sister Rayleen, she’d nearly
scream out loud at the thought of it. To keep from going entirely
insane she thought of other places she might go, but truthfully,
nobody she’d ever known had ever traveled any farther than Dallas
so she didn’t have much to compare to. In the 1970s a trip to Six
Flags Over Texas was every local kid’s idea of a dream come
true.

Then one day she’d just taken her
paycheck—$52.47 after taxes—and put half of it into her precious
little savings account, which totaled nearly three hundred bucks
after two summers and about a million Saturdays of making chocolate
sundaes. She was on her way to the library to return a Kathleen
Woodiwiss romance novel (that sort of reading was going to get her
into trouble with Billy Roy, she just knew it). She knew there was
such a thing as birth control, but Kathleen’s characters never
bothered with it and Sam was a little fuzzy on the details of how
it worked anyway—they didn’t discuss it much in the Baptist
church.

Anyway, walking down Main Street, she passed
Bobbie Jo Hudson’s Travel Agency and a shiny new poster in the
window caught her eye. Alaska. Everything in that picture was blue
and green, with snow on top. And nothing about that landscape was
flat. And she fell in love right then and there. Sam must have
stared for ten minutes because Bobbie Jo Hudson came out and asked
if there was something she could help her with. And Sam just
blurted out that it sure would be great to see Alaska some day, and
Bobbie Jo laughed and said, “Well, a ticket to get you there would
cost almost
four hundred
dollars.” That’s how she said it:
four hundred
in a big italicized voice. It was pretty clear
that she’d never sold a ticket that pricey before, and as Sam
thought about it on her way to the library she kind of wondered how
on earth anyone made a living out of a travel agency in this town
anyway. Nobody ever went anywhere.

She turned in Kathleen Woodiwiss and found
herself wandering to the Jack London novels and before she knew it
she was back in her room at home, blazing her way through
The
Call of the Wild
.

Scraping up every cent she could, including
her birthday money and busting open her childhood piggy bank, she
took the bus to Seattle, a long series of boat ferries (now that’s
an amazing thing to a Texas kid), and eventually found her way to
the employment office for the new pipeline they were building. When
asked what her job skills were she couldn’t think of a single thing
so she blurted out that she could bake brownies and grill
hamburgers and she made a heck of an ice cream sundae. And that got
her a job as a camp cook.

Sam made more money than she could have ever
dreamed of, and she met a blue-eyed charmer named Jake Calendar. By
that October, when it became obvious that it was going to stay
nighttime for the next five months and when she got her fill of
trudging out in the snowy dark of the line camp to puke into a
latrine every morning, Sam decided that another change was in
order. She never told Jake about the baby that would arrive the
next summer. She just took the company shuttle to Anchorage and
spent a little of her earnings on a plane ticket. She still
couldn’t face the idea of heading back to flat, Baptist Texas so
she landed in Denver. Longer days, but not a whole lot warmer. She
bought a used Jeep and headed south, determined not to let the
mountains out of her sight. When she landed in Taos, New Mexico,
she stopped.