Sweet Hearts

by Connie Shelton

  An hour later, the wine bottle was empty and the pizza was gone.

  “I think I needed that,” Sam said.

  She and Kelly had carried their food to the living room where they sat on the floor by the coffee table, leaning their backs against the sofa.

  “What you need is to put other people’s attitudes out of your head. Just do what you want to do. You and Beau are great together, and it doesn’t matter if anyone else has an opinion on what you should do.”

  “How’d you get to be so smart?” Sam asked.

  Kelly shrugged. “Had a mom who let me learn things the hard way, by doing it wrong and then figuring out how to get it right.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, moving to California for a few years didn’t hurt. You didn’t get the chance to watch me make all those mistakes.”

  Sam reached an arm around Kelly’s shoulders and pulled her close. When she let go she said, “Do you suppose that all this wisdom comes from the fact that we’ve finished a whole bottle of wine?”

  They broke into giggles again.

  *

  Sam felt slow as a slug when she woke up for her early morning start at the bakery. This would be one of their biggest days of the year, the day before Valentine’s; she needed to get a strong start, and the pizza dinner still sat like a rock in her stomach.

  The bakery felt chilly, as it always did on Monday mornings when the ovens had not been fired up for two days. She reset the thermostat in the sales room, brewed a pot of coffee and started her routine. Muffins, scones and crumb cakes went into the oven quickly. She raided the big walk-in fridge, pulling out enough heart-shaped cakes and Valentine themed cupcakes to fill the glass display cases.

  Cathy had made a double batch of sugar cookie dough on Saturday, leaving it wrapped in plastic to chill. Sam pulled it out now and began rolling and cutting out hearts. Four dozen muffins came out of the oven and she checked the scones that were cooling on one of the racks. She loaded a huge tray with the warm pastries and balanced it on her shoulder as she pushed through the curtain to the sales room.

  Three cars sat outside, lights off, engines idling, women sitting in them. Two other customers waited at the door, holding their coats tightly closed against the chilly dawn. Sam set her tray down on the back counter and rushed to unlock the front door.

  “We aren’t really open yet but come on in. We can’t have you freezing out here.”

  “Do you have those chocolates you were selling last week?” one of the ladies asked.

  Sam glanced at the three boxes near the register and realized she might have a rebellion on her hands if that’s what all these customers had come for.

  “Help yourselves to some coffee, and I’ll have more goodies out very soon,” she said.

  She quickly filled the sales displays with breakfast pastries and fancy cupcakes. While the customers browsed, she dashed to the back for a couple of the decorated cakes, speed dialing Jen’s home number on her cell phone as she walked.

  “Help! Is there any way you can get here now?” Sam looked at the wall clock and saw that it was still an hour before their regular opening. “I’ve got five customers out front already.”

  “On my way.” Bless her for not questioning or whining. Sam made a mental note to be generous with some bonuses this week.

  During the fifteen minutes it took for Jen to arrive, Sam sold two boxes of chocolates, a Valentine cake, and nearly three dozen muffins and scones. The town’s sweet tooth seemed insatiable this morning.

  “Wow,” said Jen, peeling off her coat as she walked through the door.

  “Yeah. I’ve got more cakes in the kitchen but haven’t had a half second to go get them. And I need to be putting cookies in the oven.”

  “Go. I can handle this.”

  “When that final box of candy goes, tell anyone else that we’ll have more by three o’clock this afternoon.”

  At least the rest of the crew should be arriving any minute, Sam thought. She carried two more holiday cakes out to the display cases while making up a task list in her head. Becky and Sandy could bake and decorate dozens of cookies. Cathy could keep the supply of breakfast pastries going and, hopefully, would also be able to wash utensils quickly enough that the bakers wouldn’t get hung up for lack of a spatula or cookie sheet. Sam’s own time best be spent on the chocolates.

  She quickly reviewed the day’s special orders, making sure they’d not missed something. Five proposal cakes were to be picked up Tuesday morning and Sam located them all, finished and ready, in the fridge. She had two wedding cakes to deliver today and two more tomorrow; Becky would fill and ice the latter two and Sam would decorate them in the morning. She closed the door to the walk-in and headed back to the stove.

  Dark chocolate became smooth as silk in the double boiler pan, under her touch. As she started to add the pinches of Bobul’s special spices, she took slightly smaller portions. Maybe she’d been a little too generous with them on Friday, that crazy day filled with romantic overload.

  “How’s this?” Becky asked, pulling Sam’s attention toward the worktable where she had stacked the six tiers of their largest wedding cake.

  It was a tricky one, requiring different shaped layers in odd combinations. A half-inch off center and they risked the whole thing becoming unbalanced and toppling. Sam set the pan of chocolate aside while she double-checked Becky’s measurements and gave the cake a little jiggle to be sure it would hold.

  “Perfect. Dirty ice it and make sure at least three of us are helping before you try to move it to the fridge.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll bet this thing weighs seventy-five pounds.”

  At the other end of the table, Sam set out her molds and began carefully pouring dark chocolate from the hot pan. While the candy cooled, she enlisted Cathy’s help in carrying one of the other wedding cakes from the fridge. It was smooth-iced in ivory buttercream and a box beside it held the array of lavender, deep purple and blue flowers that the bride had ordered. Sam took a deep breath and got to work with her pastry bag, piping the borders and trim, then placing flowers and adding tiny touches of dots and leaves.

  “One down, one to go,” she said.

  Out in the alley she opened the back of her van and her assistants helped to place the three-tiered confection inside. Sam locked the van with a sigh.

  Today’s second delivery went to a couple who’d designed their cake together. A big chocolate tier at the bottom, with middle and top layers of vanilla and lemon poppyseed respectively. Becky had already covered the tiers with fondant and Sam hoped she’d followed the instructions.

  The pale green fondant made an easy background for molded Victorian filigree, basketwork, and bundles of lilies, daffodils and strawflowers. By the time Sam had finished creating the cascades of foliage, the piece looked like a gigantic basket of spring flowers. She stepped back to check her work.

  “It’s marvelous, Sam. I’ll take a copy of it for my own.” Riki Davis-Jones, the dog groomer, had come up behind her without Sam ever noticing.

  “Thanks.” Sam studied her petite neighbor for a minute. “Is this new guy already getting that serious?”

  Riki’s laughter tinkled like small silver bells. “He might be, but I’m not. Not yet anyhow.” She held up a small wrapped package. “I just stopped by to bring you something.”

  “What’s this?” Sam turned the burgundy-wrapped box around.

  “Just to say thanks for helping out the other day. With the wet-dog melee.”

  “Oh, gosh, that was nothing. Had to keep my kid from getting into a bind.”

  “Well, it was nice of you. And this is nothing much.”

  Sam wiped her hands on her apron and ripped the paper off. The box contained a packet of English tea, the real stuff, which Riki often brought back from trips to visit her parents in Manchester.

  “I love this,” Sam said. “In fact, I think I will love some of it right now.” She glanced at the clock. She could spare fifteen
minutes before setting out to do her cake deliveries. “Join me?”

  “Can’t. Kelly has been bathing the mutts all morning, now I’ve got the clipping.” Riki nodded toward the packet. “Enjoy!”

  Before Sam had spooned the loose leaves into a tea ball, her cell phone rang.

  “Hey, darlin’, how about lunch?” Beau sounded cheerful, which probably meant that his new deputy was actually doing whatever Beau had assigned him today.

  She told him about the two cake deliveries. “If I could get them to the customers soon, that would be a big load off my mind. Maybe lunch after that?”

  He named a place and she worked out the route in her head so she could get there before he’d starved to death. She abandoned the idea of a relaxing cup of tea.

  “Give me a hand with this?” Becky asked as Sam put the phone away.

  The multi-tiered cake was ready for refrigeration. They commandeered both Sandy and Cathy and the four of them carefully maneuvered it across the room and safely onto a shelf, then they turned their attention to the Victorian flower basket and transported it to the van for delivery. Sam looked at the orders for the two cakes in the cargo section. Both were going to hotels for their respective wedding receptions. She could get help from the kitchen staff so she sent her own workers back to their duties here.

  Leaving Sandy with instructions for unmolding and boxing the chocolates, she grabbed up her jacket and backpack. In the van, she let it idle for a couple minutes while she leaned into the seat cushion and let herself unwind. She’d been on the go for nearly eight hours already.

  Both deliveries were north of the shop, so she rolled to the end of the alley, ready to turn left. The nose of the van had barely cleared the edge of the curb when a low-slung car roared out of the side street. Sam hit the brakes hard. An impression of a shaved head with tattoos running down the guy’s neck, and the whir of red low-rider screamed out of sight around a curve two blocks farther down.

  “Watch out, you jerk!” she shouted at the flash of taillights.

  But her more important concern was behind her. Something had made a sickening sliding noise back there. Sam turned, expecting to find the worst—a pile of cake and frosting.

  Chapter 19

  Sweat broke out on her forehead as she peered behind her seat. A ruined cake at this point would be a calamity from which it would take the rest of the day to recover, by the time they baked, iced and redecorated. Two broken cakes would mean working late into the night and possibly being late for one or both deadlines. And forget any other plans for the day.

  The ivory-and-purple themed one looked all right. She’d wedged it with blocks and its position seemed stable. The Victorian green had slid, coming up against the blocks around the other cake, and something didn’t look right. Sam slowly backed up the alley toward her shop, stopped carefully and got out.

  Opening the van’s back door she surveyed the damage. One section of the cake had brushed against the shelving on the side of the cargo compartment. She gave it a careful turn and checked. Several of the sugar-paste flowers were crushed.

  Dashing back inside she called out, “Becky!” probably louder than necessary.

  Her assistant started, squirting red piping gel across two heart-shaped cookies.

  “Do we have any spare flowers from that Victorian order? I need two stargazer lilies and about three daffodils.”

  “Oh my god, what happened?” Sandy’s tone got everyone worried and within a minute they’d crowded around the back of the van. Becky rounded up enough extra flowers and Sam brought out a pastry bag of icing she could use as glue to secure the replacements. She worked quickly, ignoring the fact that it was freezing outdoors and her hands wanted to shake while she removed the damaged bits and carefully arranged the new ones.

  “That was a lot easier than it could have been,” she said with a sigh as she handed over the discards and closed the van door.

  She wanted to track down the punk in the red car and give him a lesson in safe driving, but there was no time for that. Practically holding her breath she negotiated the back streets to each of the delivery sites. It wasn’t until both cakes were safely in the hands of someone else that she let herself relax.

  By the time Beau arrived at the tiny restaurant near his office, Sam had mentally rehashed the close call enough times that she was ready to drop it.

  He greeted her with a kiss to her temple and picked up his menu before his rear had hardly hit the seat.

  “Crazy today,” he muttered, looking over the selections. “Is there some weird phase of the moon happening or something? There have been more traffic violations than I can shake a stick at. My officers can barely keep up with them.”

  Sam opened her mouth, then closed it again. No point in telling him about the one that didn’t quite happen. They ordered green chile stew from a genderless server who had shaggy burgundy hair, a silver ring through the lip and wore all black.

  “I went to visit Marla Fresques yesterday and she had me bring those cards she’s been receiving from Tito.”

  Beau gave her a long look. “She thinks they’re from her son.”

  “We would know for sure if we had fingerprints from them . . .”

  “Sam, I haven’t had a spare—” His voice sounded so tired.

  She counted to three. “That wasn’t the point I started to make anyhow. What I wanted to say was that I actually paid attention this time to where and when the cards were mailed. I made a list.” She pulled it from her pack. “And, although Marla gave me the impression that she’s been receiving these cards all along, the postmarks stopped two years ago. If Tito went into hiding ten years ago, he really went deep underground more recently.”

  Beau looked politely at the list, but she could tell he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Strictly speaking, from a law enforcement point of view, she couldn’t fault him. The case was old, the evidence flimsy. No one even knew if there’d really been a crime committed or if it had happened in his jurisdiction. But the fact that the sheriff couldn’t pursue this didn’t make it any easier on Marla Fresques. And poor little Jolie would soon find herself in a foster home unless her father could be found.

  “Could I ask you to do something?” she said. “When you hear from your FBI friend Jonathan again, could you ask if it would be all right for him to speak directly to me? I could ask my questions, maybe learn something helpful, and I wouldn’t have to involve you every step of the way.”

  Their bowls of stew arrived and they ate silently, like an old couple who’ve run out of things to say to each other. We can’t start being like this already, Sam thought. When Beau set his spoon down she reached for his hand.

  “It’ll get better,” she said. “Maybe it is just some odd moon phase.”

  He let his shoulders relax. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. And, yes, I’d be happy to let you and Jonathan work out this Fresques thing on your own.”

  He jotted down an Albuquerque phone number and she stuck it into her pack.

  “I wish I had some of my special chocolates for you,” she said with a flirtatious lilt. “That might be the way to get your mind off the workday.”

  His lopsided grin reassured her. “Only problem with that is that you would also have to take your mind off work for a day, and I plainly don’t see that happening.”

  She tilted her head in acknowledgement. He was right about that. If she could have skipped work this week, they would be getting married tomorrow.

  “We need some time to work out—” Her voice trailed away as she caught sight of a whirl of bright purple at the front of the restaurant.

  Felicia Black stood at the open door, a gust of frigid wind swirling the fabric of her long coat. Several patrons looked up, annoyed by the chill but fascinated by the creature causing it. Felicia stepped inside, letting the door coast slowly shut.

  “Samantha, I was so hoping to find you here,” she said, never taking her eyes off Beau.

  “Really.” Sam toyed w
ith the idea of flicking the plastic bottle of honey off the table. She was pretty sure she could aim it toward Felicia’s thigh-high suede boots.

  “Yes.” Felicia’s gaze turned to Sam about a nano-second before she could implement the honey move.

  She pulled her hand back.

  “You ladies excuse me a second?” Beau stood and headed toward the men’s room.

  Felicia’s eyes followed his moves before she noticed that Sam’s hand was getting close to the honey bottle. She picked it up and set it on the far side of the table, then sat in the chair Beau had vacated.

  “Sam, I’d like us to be friends. There’s no reason for you to feel animosity toward me.”

  Oh yeah? Other than flatly stating that you’re back in town to get Beau, then sending him candy that you knew to be an aphrodisiac, then showing up during our lunch. Pardon my suspicions, Sam thought.

  “Now that I’m back in Taos, I’m going to start entertaining again. I’d like to invite you and Beau to a little party at my place. Tomorrow night. Six or so for cocktails, a little buffet dinner. Dancing to a DJ until whenever.”

  Sam stared at the redhead levelly. “Felicia, things are really busy for both of us right now.”

  Beau walked up to the table just then and Felicia jumped up.

  “All right, you two. I must go.” She touched both index fingers to her lips, kissed them, and then leaned forward to place one finger on Beau’s cheek then one on Sam’s. “Ciao!”

  Pretentious little vixen. Sam noticed that Beau’s eyes were wide with surprise.

  “What did she want?” he asked.

  “She invited us to a party at her place.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That we were both pretty busy right now.”

  “I’m afraid my answer would have been less diplomatic.”

  Leaving cash on the table, he took Sam’s elbow as they made their way outside. Down the block where she’d parked her van he opened her door and closed it securely after her. She lowered the window and he leaned in.