Sweets Galore: The Sixth Samantha Sweet Mystery (The Samantha Sweet Mysteries)

by Shelton, Connie

  Sweets Galore

  The Sixth Samantha Sweet Mystery

  Copyright 2013 – Connie Shelton

  “Shelton continues to combine suspenseful storytelling with sensitive portrayals of complex family relationships.” —Booklist

  “...a wonderful, easy flow that draws in the reader.”

  —Amazon 5-Star review

  “As for me, I enjoy mysteries infused with a little touch of magic and a dream that anything is possible.” —Amazon 5-Star review

  “Connie Shelton gets better with every book she writes.”

  --Midwest Book Review

  Chapter 1

  Samantha Sweet stood before her full-length mirror. Champagne silk, with ivory lace insets, the tiered skirt that skimmed the floor, the tiny rows of pearls—so beautiful. Except for the way the fabric puckered around her midsection. She moaned in frustration.

  “This fit perfectly six months ago. What happened?”

  Her friend, Rupert Penrick, tugged at the two halves of the zipper but they were inches away from meeting in the back. “It’s just a little off. And it’s late in the day. Everyone gets a little puffy late in the day.”

  “I’m getting married in the afternoon,” Sam said. “In one week. How am I ever going to manage this?”

  Kelly’s eyes met Sam’s in the mirror, then edged away to look at the errant zipper. “Ooh.”

  “I know this fabulous spa in Santa Fe,” Rupert said. “A week there and you’ll drop those pounds like magic.”

  “Mom, I don’t want to sound like a downer here but dropping twenty pounds in a week is going to take more than a steady diet of carrot sticks. I’ll get you a guest membership at my gym.”

  How could I have let this happen? She turned sideways to get a look at the hopeless situation. This dress had been a perfect fit back in February when she and Beau originally planned their wedding at Valentine’s Day. But the inevitable delay—due to circumstances beyond her control—stress, not watching her diet, the temptations of all those baked goodies right there in front of her every day . . . She stood tall and sucked in her breath but there was no way the zipper would close, not without drastic action.

  “At least veils don’t have sizes,” Kelly offered, holding up the froth of tulle that matched the champagne tone of the dress.

  “That doesn’t help,” Sam said, although she knew the veil would look good now that she’d let her short hair grow out a little. “Okay, let me get back into my other clothes. I’ll have to figure out something.”

  She shooed the others out of her bedroom and peeled the dress down over her hips. A dozen possibilities flitted through her mind: wear something else for the wedding, have this dress altered, starve for a week and then hold her breath through the ceremony. The one thing she could not do was to postpone the wedding again.

  Beau would start to wonder how serious she really was about their marriage, and that would be bad enough, but her mother would kill her. After pressing Sam to set the date this past summer, Nina Rae had reinforced her troops with relatives from all over the place. Members of the Sweet family from Texas, Colorado and Oklahoma were congregating in Taos next weekend and there would be a wedding.

  Sam let out a sigh and slipped into jeans and a loose blouse. When she walked into the kitchen Kelly was pouring hot water over a tea bag in a cup.

  “Here, this is supposed to reduce water retention,” she said, handing the cup to Sam. “Rupert had to go. Said he’s on some kind of deadline with his editor.”

  Rupert Penrick secretly wrote steamy romance novels under the pen name Victoria Devane and downplayed the fact that he was perpetually on the bestseller lists. Sam had frequently wondered what Victoria’s readers would think if they knew the pink-clad blonde in the author photos was a model and that the real writer was a male nearly six feet tall with flowing gray collar-length hair who, at two-twenty, filled a room wearing his signature blousy purple shirts and scarves that probably cost what Sam earned in a week. At least he usually offered sound fashion advice.

  She debated actually taking him up on the offer to visit that Santa Fe spa, but instantly discarded it. Even if she could afford the place—which was doubtful—there was no way she could take the next week off from her two jobs. Between breaking into houses and running a bakery, life was running at full speed right now.

  She looked up at Kelly. “I need to teach you the finer points of picking locks,” she said, “just in case a new assignment comes along. I haven’t been away for two straight weeks since I took that job.”

  Kelly looked a little apprehensive.

  “Mostly, we’re going to winterize my current three properties, in case the weather turns colder before I get back. There probably won’t be anything new. You’ll handle it just fine.”

  “And I can call you if I really hit a snag, right? I mean, you’ll be driving during the days, stopping at night. You could offer the voice of experience if I need it.”

  “I’m going on my honeymoon. I’m really hoping not to hear from either you or Jen the whole time.”

  Jennifer Baca, one of her bakery employees, could easily handle the customers in any typical week. With Julio baking and Becky decorating, Sam didn’t foresee anything her team couldn’t manage at Sweet’s Sweets. Sam’s and Beau’s plan to take a leisurely driving trip through the Southwest was their ideal getaway—no pressure to meet a schedule, beautiful autumn scenery in southern Colorado and Arizona, and time simply to enjoy themselves. No crimes to solve for the handsome sheriff of Taos County.

  “We won’t bother you, Mom. If Jen runs into a problem at the bakery, I’m sure Riki will let me take some time away from the pooches to go help her out.”

  Kelly was a lot better at bathing dogs than at decorating cakes, but Sam didn’t say anything. She’d been telling herself for months now that everything would work out all right. She glanced at the clock above the stove.

  “There’s time to make it to the place on Bowen Road before dark,” she told Kelly. “We might as well get it out of the way.”

  Kelly picked up a notepad that always sat near the phone. “I better write stuff down.”

  Sam nodded. Even at thirty-four, her curly-haired daughter had her scatter-brained moments. Last year at this time she’d arrived in Taos to inform Sam that she’d quit her job and lost her home in California to foreclosure while racking up a ton of credit card debt. At least she’d fiscally settled down quite a bit since she’d been here.

  Ten minutes later they were walking the perimeter of a modest adobe, not unlike Sam’s own house, on a quiet street near the center of town.

  “We’ll shut off the water supply and put anti-freeze in the drains, since this place has had the power cut off. Without heat—”

  “The pipes would freeze,” Kelly finished. “See? I am getting some of this stuff.”

  “Good. I’m just reminding, since years in southern California couldn’t give you a clue about how early in the season we get freezing temps here in the mountains.”

  They circled the house, disconnecting garden hoses and stowing them in the garage. Indoors, Sam went through the rooms, showed Kelly what to do, how to fill out the required sign-in sheet and stash the key back in the lock box at the front door.

  “If you don’t have to get home to Beau, how about some dinner?” Kelly suggested as they drove away. “I’ll spring for pizza.”

  Sam gave her a hard look.

  “Oh, yeah. How about a salad?”

  “I better just get out to Beau’s place. Our p
lace.” Why did she have such a hard time, still, calling Beau’s large house her home? The acreage, the horses, two loving dogs, the warm glow of the log walls when the lamps were low and the fireplace blazing—it was an idyllic spot. And Beau. The first man in her life who loved her unconditionally, completely, committed but without an agenda for changing her or uprooting her life.

  After dropping Kelly off she drove north, passing the turnoff to the Taos Pueblo and a string of little businesses, then made the familiar turn toward the mountains and drove through the big stone gateway to the property.

  Home, she said to herself. Home, home, home. Nellie and Ranger came to attention on the covered wooden porch, recognized her red pickup truck and sat expectantly as she parked next to her bakery van and walked toward them. Beau was working late tonight and the black Lab and the smaller border collie wouldn’t be entirely comfortable until he arrived and completed the family circle. Nevertheless, both greeted Sam effusively, tails whipping back and forth, nudging and pressing against her legs in competition for her attention.

  She indulged them in a brisk rubdown and checked their food bowls. “I’m not feeding you guys until I check with your daddy,” she said. Nellie, particularly, would eat six times a day if someone let her do it.

  Sam let herself inside and spent a moment staring at the late afternoon view from the French doors that led to a back deck and looked out over the open pasture land beyond. The tall cottonwoods that bordered Beau’s acreage were hitting their full yellow-gold splendor and the grasses had already begun to go brown with the cooler nights.

  She switched on lamps in the living room, where Western art and Indian blankets decorated the walls. Beau had told her to change anything she wanted, to add a woman’s touch. But Sam honestly admired his taste in the furnishings and knew that nothing from her old house could compare in quality. She would leave her old things behind as long as Kelly wanted to stay in their smaller house in the middle of town.

  Beyond the windows, darkness set in quickly and Sam went to the kitchen to see what she might make for a solo dinner. Kelly’s suggestion of salad made sense, and the fridge was well stocked so she chopped a few leaves of lettuce and some veggies and tried to resist the dressings. This isn’t so bad, she kept telling herself. I can handle a week of salads. She ignored a Sweet’s Sweets box of cookies she’d brought home earlier in the week and went to the living room to switch on the television.

  Distraction, distraction, she reminded herself. She steered away from the Food Channel and found an old movie where the actors did a lot more talking than eating.

  She was dozing on the sofa when she heard sounds outside. Boots on the wooden deck, a gentle voice speaking to the dogs, the front door latch.

  “Hey, darlin’. Did I wake you up?”

  She covered a yawn by rubbing at her face and running fingers through her hair. “TV. I must have dozed.”

  He shed his jacket, draping it over an elk antler coat rack near the door, and Sam walked over to hug him from behind.

  “Glad you’re home,” she murmured into his muscular back.

  He turned and circled her with his arms, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Mmm, me too. Did you have a good day?”

  “Parts of it were great.” She told him about Kelly’s little training course in locks and drain pipes, plus the fact that the bakery had run without her help for an entire day.

  “Parts of it?” Law enforcement types always seemed to pick up on the little things you don’t quite say.

  “My wedding gown. It isn’t quite the fit it was when I bought it.”

  “So, wear something else.”

  Mr. Practical.

  “But I love this dress. And there’s only going to be one wedding day—ever.”

  “Have it altered.” He held her at arm’s length. “Sam, I don’t care what you’re wearing that day. You know that. I love you. It’s an as-is deal.”

  “Thank you for that. Really. But I’m going to do whatever it takes to get into that dress.”

  He kissed her, the kind of kiss that can only go one direction and they raced each other up the stairs.

  Sam woke the next morning at daylight, with a growl in her stomach. Dieting is not my strong suit, she grumbled to herself as she brushed her teeth. But I can’t give up. She spat the toothpaste into the sink and gave herself a little lecture about self discipline and sticking with a plan. Grabbing an apple on her way out the door, she started her bakery van and headed toward town.

  The commute, although quite a bit longer than her old one, was much more scenic and she gave herself over to enjoying the rising sun as it hit the fall foliage while she ate her apple. I will ignore everything sweet or fatty today, she vowed.

  Easy to say, until she got to the bakery and walked in to smell the muffins and scones that Julio had already removed from the oven. She said good morning to the two kitchen employees and braced herself against the temptation to start the day with a croissant and cup of coffee.

  “How are the wedding plans coming along?” Becky Harper asked, not looking up from a cake full of flowers upon which she was putting finishing touches.

  “Do not let me eat anything,” Sam said. “All day.”

  “Ooh, right. The dress.”

  Julio sent the women a puzzled look. Sam gave a wan grin. “Don’t ask.”

  He dumped a pitcher full of raw eggs into the big Hobart mixer and switched it on. Sam remembered the first time he’d walked into her shop, how she’d been a little put off by the tattoos that crept from his knuckles to who-knows-where under the white T-shirt, how the rumble of his Harley coming up the alley never failed to startle her just a little. But the guy knew how to bake.

  He’d immediately mastered all of Sam’s signature recipes and in recent weeks had begun to suggest a few touches of his own. He’d become a real asset to the business, along with Becky as a decorator and Jen keeping the display cases in order.

  “After I had my second son,” Becky said, “I went on the protein diet. That worked wonders for me.”

  “With a week to get this done, I think I better be on the water diet,” Sam said with a laugh. “But at the moment I need some coffee to wake me up.”

  She walked through the split in the curtain that separated the kitchen from the sales room, where she found Jen waiting on one of their regulars, a tiny white-haired woman who bought one muffin a day but spent a good thirty minutes choosing it. Jen sent a smile toward Sam. They both knew the woman was just lonely. Sam mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her assistant for being so patient with her.

  Outside the front windows, Sam noticed that the sun had fully lit the store fronts along the way and the parking lot for the little strip of businesses was getting full. A green SUV pulled up to Puppy Chic, and a woman got out with a lanky Irish setter. Kelly and her English-born employer, Erika Davis-Jones, would have their hands full with that one, Sam thought. To the other side of her own shop Sam saw Ivan Petrenko preparing a table on the sidewalk for his weekly used book sale.

  She turned to the beverage bar where Jen had set out carafes of their signature blend coffee and hot water for the tea drinkers. She poured coffee into her mug and resisted adding cream, turning her back on the variety of sweeteners and flavors.

  A vehicle pulled up directly in front of her shop, a high pickup truck with big tires and shiny chrome wheel rims, and a man got out. He wore jeans with a black turtle-neck and black blazer, and a flash of gold showed at his wrist as he locked the truck. Not from around here, Sam thought. The truck had California plates. Shadows obscured him for a minute as he stepped under her awning, the one that said “Sweet’s Sweets” with the slogan “A Bakery of Magical Delights” on a second line.

  Tiny bells tinkled as the door opened and the man stepped inside. He gave her an intent stare.

  “Hello, Sammy.”

  She started to ask if she knew him, but the realization hit.

  Jake Calendar.

  Chapter 2


  Sam felt the blood drain from her face. Thirty-five years since she’d seen this man, years that fell away as he gave his familiar grin. He wore his curly brown hair shorter than before, back when they both worked a summer at that pipeline camp in Alaska, but the aquamarine eyes were the same, with a glint of flirtation that lit up his face in every conversation with a female. How gullible she’d been at nineteen.

  “You look good, Sammy.”

  Same old Jake. Same darned old charmer.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, what’s this? No ‘wow, it’s good to see you’?” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. Was that a wink?

  She took a deep breath. “It’s actually pretty unbelievable to see you, Jake. And so I ask again, what on earth are you doing here?”

  “Just happened to be in town. Thought I’d look you up.”

  The elderly lady at the counter paid for her muffin and left. Jen caught Sam’s attention, sending a little signal between them, asking if everything was okay. Sam nodded. Jen scurried toward the kitchen, giving Sam a moment to get her thoughts together.

  “And just how did you know where to look me up?” she asked Jake.

  “Online. You can find anyone online these days. Boy, those chocolate cupcakes look amazing. Could I get one of those?”

  Damn Facebook, she thought as she went behind the display case and picked up the cupcake he wanted. Why had she listened to Kelly’s case for setting up an account so people would know about the bakery?

  “And you just happened to be in the neighborhood and in the mood for cake?”

  “Something like that.”

  She put on a smile and handed him the chocolate confection, wondering if it were really that simple.

  “Sammy, Sammy . . . Can’t a couple of old friends just have a cup of coffee together?”

  Since her own cup was steaming away, she couldn’t very well deny him one as well. She gestured toward the urns and told him to help himself. While he dispensed a cup, she paced to the front door and back. She watched him as he added creamer and sugar.