Deadly Sweet Dreams
Samantha Sweet Mysteries, Book 14
By Connie Shelton
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For Dan, Daisy and Missy—my pack.
I have loved being “stuck at home” all year with you three!
Chapter 1
Kelly Sweet-Porter peered at the sticky substance in the mixing bowl. “Mom, this is not at all blue. What’s wrong with it?”
Sam adjusted her reading glasses and looked more closely at the leather-bound book on the worktable in front of her. “Oh, rats. It says five petals from a cornflower. I thought it said coneflower.”
“Yeah, no. Those are yellow.”
“I guess the big question is, are they edible?” Sam took off the glasses and stared at the mixture.
“They are, but the order was for cornflower blue, and this won’t cut it.” Kelly’s shoulders slumped. “I have the feeling we’re never going to get this.”
“So much for all-organic ingredients for our picky customer—I can always get the right color from my bakery supplier.”
“That’s what I would do.” Kelly was quickly learning that not all plants were friendly. Research it first—her new motto. “Let your all-natural customer experiment with plants in her own kitchen.” The book didn’t always spell out the differences between foods and poisons. Poisons, potions … whatever.
A loud crash sounded from two floors down.
“I’d better check that out,” Kelly said, dashing for the open door. “Scott’s supposed to be watching Ana but …”
“Go. I’ll do something with the icing.” Samantha gave a chuckle as she heard her daughter call out.
From the dormer window at the front of the attic, Eliza, the family calico cat, watched her with unblinking green eyes.
“Forget it—cats don’t eat desserts.”
“Mrroww.” She was a cat of few words. Unless it was something important.
Sam closed the leather-bound book and the print on the cover immediately became unreadable again. Squiggles, runes, symbols … whatever they were, even the linguist who’d tried to figure it out couldn’t decipher it. Only after handling one of the carved magical boxes could she and Kelly read it perfectly. Or—not quite so perfectly, considering she’d mistaken cornflower for coneflower.
She stashed the book on a shelf full of other old books, leftover property from the old house’s previous owner, where it blended in well enough that no one would give a second look. Not that anyone ever got the chance.
The worktable looked neat enough. She picked up the dirty mixing bowl and called to the cat, securely locking the door behind her. Eliza led the way down the back stairs.
“What was the crash?” Sam asked Kelly when she got to the kitchen.
“Miss Anastasia was hungry, so she thought she would start dinner.”
Sam set the dirty bowl in the sink and squirted liquid soap into it. “Ana, Ana, Ana … I’m thinking you’ll need to get a bit taller before you tackle the cooking.”
“Popsicle!” The four-year-old held up a box of the frozen treats that had apparently fallen out of the freezer. “Daddy wants dinner Popsicle.”
“Yeah, and maybe we’ll have a little talk with Daddy,” Kelly said, scooping her daughter up in one arm while stuffing the box back inside the freezer.
“Well, I’m going to leave you all to sort that out,” Sam said. “I need to get home and check things at the ranch. I’ll be back tomorrow to help you get ready for the p-a-r-t-y.”
“It’s my party!” Anastasia shouted with a giggle. “Not a surprise, Grammy.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “I keep forgetting how she picks up on things.”
“Scott and his accelerated home schooling. She finished all the first-grade readers so I guess he’s got her spelling words now.”
“Can Uncle Danny come to my party? Otherwise, he might be lonely.”
“Um, sure,” Sam said. “I’ll invite him.”
Danny Flores was Beau’s new ranch hand, hired a couple of weeks ago, and Ana had only met him once. Somehow, the young girl understood that he would be alone tomorrow night when the family came to their house for the party.
“Go find your daddy. I need to ask him what he really wants for dinner,” Kelly suggested, sending Ana toward the dining room door. Once the child was out of earshot, she said, “You don’t have to invite Danny if you don’t want to, Mom.”
“He’s a very nice guy, and I can ask. If you don’t mind?”
“Oh, not at all. It’s just that I’m not sure where she gets this stuff. How would she know Danny might be lonely if he stays home?”
“I’ve been telling you, Kel, you’ve got a very perceptive little girl there.”
Sam grabbed her jacket from the peg near the back door and blew Kelly a kiss.
Outside, the wind had picked up, bringing a flurry of snow from the open field across the road. A week ago it had been almost balmy, now it felt like a blizzard. Early spring could bring any kind of weather to the mountains, Sam had learned long ago. She settled into her hybrid all-wheel-drive SUV and started the engine, leaning back against the headrest while it warmed up.
She picked up her phone and called Beau.
“Hey darlin’ what’s up?” In the background, she could hear the whoosh of the wind.
“You’re outside. I’ll keep it quick.”
“Yeah, we’ve got a section of fence down. Danny and I are kind of in the middle of a repair job.”
“Okay. Just tell Danny he’s welcome to join us for dinner tonight. I’m heading home soon and planning a big pot of chile and some cornbread. There’ll be plenty. See you soon.”
“But everything’s okay?”
“Absolutely fine. See you later.” Her heart went out to the wonderful man she’d married. He had been through so much these past few years and yet he always placed her welfare above all else. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind if she’d needed something, he would let the broken fence go and rush immediately to her side.
By the time she pulled off the county road onto the long driveway at the ranch, the snow had abated somewhat. Across the field she could make out the dark shape of Beau’s pickup truck, a quarter-mile in the distance, and the faint figures of the two men. She didn’t envy their task, wrestling barbed wire and metal posts into submission in the frigid air. But she wasn’t going to trade her warm kitchen for the chance to join them.
The house smelled wonderful—of onions and meat, pungent red chile and spices—when Sam walked in. The slow-cooker was doing its work. She set aside her backpack purse and phone, pulled off her heavy coat, and rubbed her hands together as she walked into the kitchen. She lifted the lid on the pot and gave the fragrant mixture a stir, satisfied that the meal was on schedule.
Beau would be at least another thirty minutes, so she used the time to tidy the house a bit and set the dining table for three. The carved wooden box sat, benignly dark and quiet, on the sideboard. Sam ran a hand across its top, watching the color lighten immediately to a soft, warm brown. If she picked it up and held it against her body the wood would brighten to the color of honey, and the colored stones mounted in the carved crevices would begin to glow.
She removed her hand, letting the effect subside. Better to have the artifact out of the way when company came. She picked it up and carried it upstairs.
In the beginning she’d been half afraid of the box and its powerful influence, even trying a couple of times to get rid of it. Then she’d learned to use its power to help with everyday tasks, to gather its energy and perform near-miracles. But there was a dark side to using it, she’d discovered. And after the events of four years ago, she was content to tre
at it with restraint and respect. Now that she felt safer and more confident about its presence, she and the box had somehow learned to let each other be.
“Thanks, but not right now,” she whispered, setting it on her dresser.
She heard a sound downstairs, the stomp of heavy boots on the front porch.
Chapter 2
“All done?” Sam stood on the stairway landing and watched Beau step inside. Ranger and Nellie followed, shaking snowflakes from their fur.
“As done as it’s gonna get,” Beau said. “Ground’s frozen solid and barbed wire’s a bitch to work with in this weather. But we got it closed off. The cows are all hanging close to the barn today anyhow.”
She helped him out of his jacket and gloves, and he unzipped his heavy coverall and peeled it off his shoulders.
“Let me get the fire going,” she said. “I haven’t been home very long myself.”
He turned and pulled her toward him, planting a solid kiss on her forehead. “Smells good in here.”
“Is Danny coming for dinner?”
“Yeah. He went to the casita to clean up, said he’d come over in half an hour. If dinner’s ready sooner, just call him.”
“That’ll work out perfectly,” she said.
Beau finished extricating himself from the coveralls, then gave a sniff at the underarms of his flannel shirt. “I’m hitting the shower. Wouldn’t think a guy could sweat out there in the snow, but—”
“Twelve layers of clothes will do that,” she said with a laugh.
He was unbuttoning the flannel before he even reached the stairs. “Some kind of toddy would taste real good when I get back.”
“You got it.” Sam turned toward the fireplace, spreading aside the layer of ashes inside, setting kindling and striking a match to it. Two small logs caught the tender flame, and she added a couple of larger ones.
By the time she’d carried in an armload of split logs from the front porch the fire was blazing well, and she added enough more wood to keep it going. Beau’s toddy of choice these days was a nip of 15-year-old scotch. She poured two fingers and set the glass on the end table near his favorite chair.
Out of habit she watched him descend from the second story, noticing whether he seemed sure-footed. Her eyes flicked to the door of the downstairs guest room, the sickroom for months.
That was four years ago, she reminded herself. He’s fine now. Just fine.
Still, she watched. Habit.
Leave it, Sam. Worrying solves nothing.
He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. This time the kiss was not on the forehead, not a chaste little peck. He’s fine. She smiled when he pulled away.
“Your drink’s on the table,” she said. “And I’d better get the cornbread started.”
“You’re the best,” he said with his first sip.
She ignored his groan as he took his seat. Fifty-three was not old. But what he’d been through would age anyone. She refused to look at the place on the living room floor as she walked toward the kitchen—the sight of him, down, blood pouring from the chest wound was imprinted forever. All she could do was ignore it and live in the present. They’d made it through a lot, including the loss of his career. She shoved aside the visions that came back randomly and with force.
She pushed her way through the swinging kitchen door and started grabbing the ingredients for cornbread. Through the window above the sink she saw Danny walk up the front porch steps. She tapped the glass with a fingernail and motioned him to come in. She met him just inside the living room where he was shedding his coat and smoothing back his dark hair.
Danny Flores had come along at exactly the right moment. Beau’s older ranch hand had retired to Albuquerque, saying he couldn’t do another winter outdoors in the mountains. They’d put out feelers for help but it was hard to find young men who would, or could, do manual labor these days. When the twenty-one year old showed up, saying his grandmother told him the former sheriff needed a worker, they’d hired him on the spot.
“Let’s hang your coat here,” she said, taking his sheepskin jacket. “And how about something to drink?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” he said, with a glance toward Beau.
“I’m having a warmer-upper.” Beau held up his glass.
“Well, okay, maybe a beer if you have one,” Danny said to Sam.
“Sure—I’ll be right back with it. Sit over there by the fire.” She delivered the bottle of Corona a couple minutes later. “It’ll be about twenty minutes until dinner’s ready. How’s your grandmother, Danny?”
“Feisty as ever,” he said with a grin. “I saw her and Auntie Pauline on Sunday.”
“Good. You know, Faustina’s been a friend of mine forever. She’s the reason we didn’t even ask for any references that day you came out here.”
“Yeah, she told me. But she says it’s ’cause I have an honest face. And because I’ll feed cattle or mend a fence.”
“Okay, true.” Sam laughed.
“He can set T-posts in a straight line and knows his way around a fence puller,” Beau said. “Can’t ask a lot more than that.”
As the conversation went toward the specifics of how much wire they’d strung, Sam ducked back to the kitchen. She tasted the chile and added a bit more salt before checking the cornbread in the oven. The chile recipe came from Danny’s grandmother, Faustina Lopez, and Sam had made it dozens of times. Danny’s mother had attended school here in Taos and worked two summers at the insurance company where Sam was employed during her early years in this town. She remembered when Sally met Hector Flores and moved to San Antonio to marry him. And now their two very handsome children were young adults, and one was living here in Taos County. Small world.
Sam filled water glasses and ladled chile into bowls, sliced the cornbread and put the neat squares in a basket with a cloth on top, then carried a tray with everything out to the dining table, which faced the south pasture.
“Yum, this smells so familiar,” Danny said, pulling Sam’s chair out for her.
When she told him where she’d gotten the recipe, he laughed. They’d hardly taken their seats when an unfamiliar ringtone interrupted.
“Oops, sorry,” Danny said.
“Go ahead and take it, if you want,” Sam told him. “It might be your mother.”
He hesitated a moment but then pulled his phone from his back pocket. By then it had quit ringing. He took a glance at the screen, and Sam saw something flicker in his expression. He lay the phone, screen down, on the table with a thump.
“Not your mom, I guess,” she joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
“I’ll handle it later.” He ripped his chunk of cornbread in half and practically skewered the stick of butter with his knife.
Sam and Beau exchanged a look, and Beau gave a tiny shrug. It really was none of their business, so Sam steered the conversation elsewhere.
“Before I forget,” she said. “Anastasia wants to be sure you’re coming to her birthday party tomorrow. I didn’t promise—just said I’d be sure we invited Uncle Danny. There may be a couple of kids her age, but mostly it’ll be adults, mainly Kelly’s and Scott’s friends.”
Danny’s expression relaxed. “Sure—she’s such a cute kid. As long as the boss doesn’t need another fence mended …?”
Beau shook his head. “Fence or no fence, we’re going. Her birthday only comes along once every four years.”
At the ranch hand’s puzzled expression, Sam said, “February twenty-ninth.”
“Well, then, it’s a must-do, right?” Danny swept cornbread crumbs off the tablecloth into his hand. “What kind of gift should I bring?”
“As you can imagine, the child doesn’t need a thing,” Sam told him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I wouldn’t be any kind of awesome Uncle Danny if I didn’t show up with something …”
“She’s big into art right now, and she already has a set of pastels and colored pencils,” Sam said, “but I notice t
he purple ones are getting worn down. Apparently, that’s the color of the month with her. If you can find a set of colored pencils or markers that are all shades of purple, you’d be her hero.”
He seemed at a loss. “Any alternate ideas? Just in case.”
“You know what? Anything purple will be great—a pair of purple socks would make her day.”
He grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“More chile?” Sam offered. Both men shook their heads.
“I heard there was apple pie for dessert,” Beau said. “I wouldn't turn that down.”
“And I wouldn’t turn down a quick trip to the head,” Danny said.
Sam pointed the way and began to gather the dishes. She glanced at Beau, who seemed tired.
“Shall we have our pie and coffee in front of the fire?”
He nodded and offered to help with the dishes.
“Nope, you stretch out in your chair. I’ll get these and bring everything over there.”
As she picked up bowls and plates she saw Danny’s phone, facedown where he’d left it. Beau’s back was turned. Curiosity got the better of her. She quickly picked it up and turned the screen toward her. When it lit up, there were just three words: Missed call — Lila.
She set the phone down a fraction of a second before the bathroom door opened and Danny came out.
Chapter 3
Sam sat on the edge of their king-sized bed, applying lotion to the flaky, dry skin on her legs. “Beau, has Danny ever mentioned a girl in his life? Someone named Lila?”
His face appeared in the bathroom doorway. “This doesn’t sound like a casual question,” he said with a grin. “You snooped, didn’t you?”
“Well … okay, yeah. I couldn’t help but wonder what provoked that reaction at dinner tonight. I mean, he just about slammed the phone down.” She set the lotion bottle aside. “So, has he mentioned her?”
Beau wiped toothpaste from his mouth and dried his hands. “Not by name.”
Deadly Sweet Dreams Page 1
