Sweet Hearts (10 page)

She peeked into Kelly’s room on
her way to the bathroom and found her daughter sprawled on top of the covers.
You’ll
be freezing by morning
, she thought as she tugged the spread out from under
her snoring body and draped it over the top. Some things never changed. She
would always be a mom, she supposed.

Don’t get hurt with this new
romance, little one.

It was mid-morning before Sam
remembered to try calling Glenda Cooper again, not exactly optimal timing. She
tried to tune out the bakery noises all around her as she sat at her desk, but
it was impossible. Finally, taking her cell phone and bundling into her
heaviest coat against the blustery air outside, she stepped out to the alley.

The overnight snowfall had only
amounted to an inch or so, but the temperatures had dropped dramatically and
she’d opted to drive her pickup truck in case there was more weather and she
might need the four wheel drive. She shivered and leaned against the big
vehicle, hoping to draw a little warmth from it.

Glenda answered on the second
ring with, “Website Answers. How may I help you?”

Sam had already decided that an
HR person wasn’t likely to fork over information on a former employee,
especially if the inquiry sounded official, so she’d cooked up a story about
being a friend of a friend, someone Lisa would know. She needed to know how to
get in touch with Lisa now, and really hoped Glenda could help her.

Other phones were ringing in the
background and Glenda stopped twice to put people on hold before Sam even got
her cover story out.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she
came back on the line the second time. “Now, what was it you needed?”

“I can see that you’re really
busy. Lisa Tombo—I just need to quickly get in touch with her.”

“Lisa Tombo?” The wheels turned
for another couple of seconds. “Oh, Lisa from Bellworth?”

“Yes, thank you,” Sam said. “I
guess the address I have for her is old since my Christmas card came back. Do
you happen to have a current address or phone number for her?”

Another phone rang. “She’s back
in Albuquerque but we’ve kind of lost touch,” Glenda said. “Can I put you on
hold again?”

“I’ll just let you go. Thanks so
much.” Sam clicked off and jammed the phone and her frozen hand into her
pocket.

She stepped gingerly through the
thin layer of snow and up the steps to the bakery’s back door. The heat from
the oven felt so good that she stood still for a moment, soaking it up.

“Sam, Jen was just looking for
you,” Becky said. “Something about a birthday cake order.”

Sam shed her jacket and headed
toward the fridge. “I think I know which one it is. Lemon cake, white fondant,
‘Happy Birthday Betty’. I finished it early this morning because the customer
said he would be in around ten.”

She retrieved the cake, carried
it out to the gray-haired man who gave a noncommittal nod and fished a twenty out
of his pocket. Women were so much more complimentary, probably because a lot of
them had attempted to decorate a cake and knew that it wasn’t just a simple
task. She gave the guy a smile and went back to the kitchen.

It was time to buckle down to the
daily production of chocolates. Although she’d re-created the flavor and a
little of the pizzazz of Bobul’s chocolate techniques, she was nowhere close to
the speed of his production. Even when she’d relied on the wooden box for a
boost in energy, she still felt like she was moving in molasses-time compared
to the way the chocolatier had turned out hundreds of pieces a day. And now the
supply out front was nearly gone.

She pulled out the new heart-shaped gift boxes and experimented
with placement of the variously shaped pieces, fitting a pound of candy into
each box. Once she’d come up with a pleasing arrangement, she used one box as
an example and told Sandy to fill the others in exactly the same manner.

While Sam stirred dark chocolate
at the stove and added Bobul’s prescribed pinches of this and that, she
monitored the progress around her. Becky was stacking and filling layer cakes
and quarter-sheets, smoothing buttercream icing on some, merely dirty-icing the
ones that would require fondant. Sam considered that it might be a good idea to
teach Becky how to roll and apply the sugar-dough coating. It would free up
more of her own time.

But, for now, chocolates were the
pressing matter. She watched the candy thermometer for the precise moment to
pull the double-boiler off the stovetop.

“Clear me a spot,” she said to
Sandy, preparing to pour and temper the chocolate.

She’d just finished dipping
caramels and fruit crèmes when her phone rang.

“Hey, darlin’. How’s your day?”

“A little crazy, but crazy is the
new normal, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Any chance of you
taking a break for lunch? My treat.”

She looked at the stack of order
sheets and the cakes Becky had iced, now awaiting her expert touch with the
pastry bag.

“Oh, Beau, I don’t see how. I’m
really up to my eyeballs today.”

“Okay.” He sounded disappointed.

“Tonight? Maybe I can make dinner
at home. I do have a little new information on the Tito Fresques situation.”

He gave the verbal equivalent of
a shrug and she felt badly when he hung up. Here they were, getting married in
four more days. He must already be feeling like she was taking him for granted.

“Sam?” Sandy waved a hand toward
the chocolate on the table, which was setting up far too quickly.

“Oh no.” Sam reached with the
spatula to begin spreading it and Beau’s concerns got shoved aside again.

Someone brought a pizza into the
kitchen at some point and Sam thought she remembered taking a few bites from a
slice. She didn’t actually remember finishing it but when she looked around the
room no trace remained.

Jen bustled back and picked up
the boxed chocolates that Sandy had organized, and Sam remembered glancing at
the clock and saw that it was already after three. Becky had left at some
point. She’d saved the tempered chocolate, poured the molds and then had moved
on to decorating cakes. Dozens of little fondant hearts lay scattered on the
table.

The phone rang and she became
busy taking an order.

“Sam? Jen just buzzed—something
about a consultation or something?” Sandy almost wrung her hands whenever she
had to deliver news.

“Thanks, I’ll be right there,”
Sam said, heading for the front, order pad in hand. But the customer had gone.

“It was Ivan,” Jen said.
“Reminding you that tonight is Chocoholics Unanimous.”

“Oh no.” Sam closed her eyes and
thought hard. “Okay, I can do this.”

There was a chocolate Kahlua cake
already baked. She couldn’t remember whether she’d planned for it to go into
the display case or if somehow in the muddle of her mind she’d automatically
known that the bookstore’s weekly meeting of chocolate fanatics was coming up.
She dashed to the back and found her mother’s recipe for Texas Chocolate
Frosting. She’d never used this one for the book club, so they would find it
new and different. Plus, it was easy.

While the butter and powdered sugar
blended in the mixer bowl, Sam chopped pecans and filled the layers with her
special chocolate-crunch filling. The nutty, chocolate frosting flowed over the
top and down the sides of the cake, leaving little freeform spaces. It wasn’t
the most elegant in looks, but it would definitely be one of the better tasting
cakes she’d ever made for them.

She stuck it into the fridge
while she finished placing the fondant hearts and adding little frosting
touches to the four generic Valentine cakes that waited on the table. By the
time she carried the Kahlua cake next door to Ivan’s shop, the frigid outside
air felt fantastic on her damp forehead.

“Ah, Samantha, is being a
wonderful cake for our mystery group,” Ivan raved. “Can you be coming tonight?”

“I haven’t had a chance to read
the book,” she admitted. When was the last time she’d had the chance to read
any
book? She wiped a wrist across her forehead, sending her bangs straight upward.
“Things will settle down soon. No more sweet shop holidays for awhile, and then
after the wedding . . .”

“Is a busy time. Ivan know this.
You come when you can.” He patted her shoulder and she just wanted to collapse
into one of his big wingback chairs and pretend that her phone was broken and
her shop didn’t exist.

But that wouldn’t do. She thanked
him and stuck his check into her pocket, eyeing the table full of bargain books
as she walked toward the door.

Back inside Sweet’s Sweets, Sam
noticed that Jen had two customers mulling over the displays; everything seemed
under control there. The beverage bar was another matter. The coffee carafes
were nearly empty, tea selection needed to be replenished and a scattering of
stir sticks and spilled sugar certainly must be cleaned up before the afternoon
dessert crowd came. She scooped the small items into the trash and reached
under the counter for a pack of her special coffee.

Almost on auto-pilot she filled
the filter basket and water reservoir and started a fresh pot brewing. She was
stooped in front of the storage cabinet, rummaging for the boxes of tea bags
when she heard the front door jingle again.

“Oh, lovely! I’m so happy to see
that you’ve made more of the chocolates,” the customer exclaimed. “And
heart-shaped boxes—perfect!”

Jen finished ringing up a sale to
the older lady who had been there first, then greeted the newcomer. “How are
you? Two days in a row. It’s good to have you back.”

Sam turned to see who it was. The
woman who’d worn the tiger-print dress and bright orange nails. Today she had
fuchsia nails, and a hot-pink dress that came halfway up her slender thighs,
under a silver fox coat that flowed around her like Superwoman’s cape. The
tousled red hair, amazingly, didn’t clash but seemed to set off the dazzling
outfit. Sam felt every grain of the sugar that encrusted her own hair and the
flour that inevitably clung to her black slacks by this time of day. She tried
to melt into the wall next to the beverage bar but it didn’t work very well.

“Felicia Black,” the woman was
saying to Jen, extending her hand. “Now that I’m back in town I can’t seem to
stay away from here, can I?”

She picked up one of the
heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and hugged it to her way-too-visible chest
while she studied the contents of the display case.

Jen glanced toward Sam, who was
trying hard for a shred of dignity, to look more owner-like than servant-like.
But the minute she picked up the box of sugar packets, intending to pull out a
few and place them in the little glass holders on the tables, something
slipped. The box practically leapt out of her hands, came open, and sent the
little white packets flying.

“Oh, my, how unfortunate,”
Felicia Black said. Somehow, she was even taller and thinner than yesterday.

Sam murmured an apology and began
grabbing up the loose packets. This was ridiculous! She wasn’t about to let a
snooty customer make her feel inferior. She shoved the fallen packets toward
the baseboard, set the box on the counter and calmly walked toward the kitchen
for a broom.
I will not lower myself to sweeping the floor in her presence,
she thought.
It can wait a minute or two.

But Ms. Black seemed intent on
taking forever. She asked a dozen questions about the various pastries, which
Jen answered with utmost courtesy. Sam peered around the edge of the curtain.
Finally, the customer set the heart box on the counter and reached toward the
microscopic purse that hung by a skinny strap over her shoulder.

“I’ve got someone special in mind
for these chocolates,” Felicia said. “Have you tasted them?”

Jen nodded and punched some keys
on the register. “They’re really good, aren’t they?”

“Better than good.” Felicia
lowered her voice. “I think they can make a person fall in love.”

Sam almost pulled the curtain
down. Was that what was going on with Kelly and Riki last night? With her
married employees who couldn’t wait to get home to their husbands after work?

Jen started to open her mouth,
then closed it. She’d noticed the same thing—Sam would bet on it.

“So anyway . . . there’s a
special man here in Taos. We dated a few years ago. I thought it might go
somewhere . . . permanent . . . but it didn’t. Maybe we were simply too young
at the time. Now, however . . .” A grin spread over her perfect features and
she raised an auburn eyebrow at Jen. “Now, I think I know how to get him back.”

Jen passed the gold card through
the machine and waited for it to process. “Oh? He still lives here, then?”

Felicia sighed. “Yes. He stayed
when I left. I couldn’t seem to convince him to try life in the big city.” She
signed the slip Jen had set on the counter. “But this time he’ll come. I will
just bet he’s not found anyone to compare with me, here in Taos.”

Jen managed to suppress the
expression that would have said, that’s a pretty safe bet.

“You might even know him,” Felicia said. “His name is Beau
Cardwell.”

Sam nearly fell through the split
in the curtain. Jen was staring at the back of Felicia Black, her mouth hanging
open, as the woman flung the door open and swooped out toward her Lexus.

“What nerve! I’ll—” Sam marched
toward the door, intent on grabbing the witch in the silver fur and yanking her
off her feet.

“Sam.” Jen said it so quietly
that Sam stopped in her tracks. “You’ve got a little—” She brushed her finger
across her cheek.

Sam reached up to her own face,
wiped at it and came away with a smear of chocolate. How long had that been
there? She slumped and turned away from the windows.

“I . . . surely she can’t . . .”