Sweets Galore: The Sixth Samantha Sweet Mystery (The Samantha Sweet Mysteries) (3 page)

“I don’t remember, off the top of
my head, Mother. Didn’t you get Kelly’s email with the details?”

“Maybe so, but you know how I am
with the computer. Your daddy probably read it and erased it.”

“I’ll ask Kelly to send it again.”
Sam scribbled herself a note at a desk that was already overloaded with little
scraps of paper. She really had to get all this organized before leaving for
two weeks.

“We’ll all be there in three more
days, honey. I just want to be sure everybody gets settled in all right. Now,
your daddy and I are staying at that B&B of your friends? Is that right?
And everyone else . . .”

Three days—yikes! Nina Rae’s voice
droned on, as she reiterated details Sam already knew. Sam ran a hand over her
stomach, wondering if her waistline had gotten any smaller. She put the second
half of her sandwich back in its container and closed the lid. No cookie for
dessert either, she reminded herself.

“. . . can’t wait to see you in
your beautiful dress. Samantha? You haven’t said a word.”

A vision of the zipper that
wouldn’t close flashed through Sam’s head. “We’re just really busy this week at
the bakery, Mother.”

“Oh my lord, that’s the other
thing. We’ve never seen your lovely little place of business. I can just hardly
wait. I bet it’s just the most charming little place.”

Sam glanced around at the sink
full of dirty pans, the worktable loaded with unfinished cakes and the floor
where Julio’s last batch of batter had dribbled from the mixer to the oven.
Charming. Sam picked up a damp towel.

“I really need to get back to work
now, Mother. We’ll see you in a few days.”

She clicked off the call before
Nina Rae could think of a new subject, some other bit of subtle pressure in the
form of a chore Sam needed to do before The Day. She dropped the wet towel to
the floor and pushed it with her foot until all the small batter drops were
gone.

“Guys,” she announced after
calling Jen in from the sales room. “We’ve got to get this place in shape.
Three days and the inspection we’re getting will make the health department’s
visits seem like child’s play. Okay, I’m exaggerating a little. But really, we
do need to watch the little stuff. Clean up the messes when they happen, wipe
down the counters. Jen, check the front window displays and the beverage bar
and—”

“Sam. Got it. We have moms too,”
Jen said with a grin.

Even Julio smiled. Becky patted
Sam’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell us what we need to do for
your
cake, Sam. Your wedding is the most
important thing happening this week. We can get the layers baked, make the
flowers or whatever trims you have in mind . . . That’s the main thing Mama
Bear will want to see when she gets here, right?”

“Thanks. All of you. You’re the
best crew—”

The front door bells tinkled on
their delicate chain and Jen rushed out to attend to the new customer. A moment
later the intercom buzzed. “Sam, there’s a consultation out here.”

Sam paused a beat. Jen had begun
handling nearly all the consultations and orders recently. She set down her
folder of sketches and headed for the sales room.

A young man sat at one of the
tables, while Jen bustled to help three women who had apparently walked in at
the same moment and were all talking at once. She sent Sam a grateful look.

“Vic Valentino,” the young guy
said, rising to shake Sam’s hand. He was wiry thin with spiky hair that made
him look as if he’d awakened in the middle of a tornado. “I need a spectacular
cake. Of me.”

“Okay . . .” Sam set her order pad
on the table and sat down. “Tell me about the occasion.”

Valentino perched on the edge of
his chair, energy radiating out of him. “Well, I need to impress a judge.”

Sam felt her eyebrows rise. “Court
troubles?”

He laughed a little frantically.
“Ha, ha, ha—no. Sorry I didn’t explain that very well. A talent judge. I’m
auditioning for
You’re The Star.
You’ve probably heard of it. I heard that there are talent scouts in town and I
need to beat the other contestants for the chance to audition. I read in
In The Know
magazine that somebody last
year got onto one of those shows by wowing the judge with something he really
liked. And
then
I heard that one of
these
judges really loves sweets. So,
it’s a no-brainer, right? I show up with a cake, they love the cake, they love
me. Easy?”

“Well . . .”

Valentino continued. “So. Here’s
what I’m thinking. The cake is a stage, with these big spotlights and loads of
glam. Stars, confetti, stuff like that. You could put some fireworks around the
edges. And then there’s a sculpture of me, and I’m in the middle of the stage
holding a microphone, wowing them with my song. I composed it myself.” He
trilled out a few notes and the ladies at the counter spun around as if
something were attacking them.

“Well, I won’t sing it here. Can’t
give away all my moves ahead of time,” Vic said. “I’ll need the cake tomorrow.”

She nearly objected to the tight
deadline. The customer is always right, she reminded herself. As she sketched a
rough idea of the design, Sam quickly calculated the number of extra hours this
creation would involve: sculpting a lifelike figure, finding fireworks in
September, finishing the whole thing in a day. She added the extra hours and
tossed out a reasonable figure for the amount of work involved.

Vic Valentino winced. “Ouch. Any
way you could, like, in the name of supporting an artist . . .?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Valentino, we’re
super busy this week as it is. I normally charge an additional fifty percent
for short notice like this, overtime for my staff, you know.” She watched him
argue the merits in his head.

“Okay, let’s do it. This is my
chance for my big break. And, heck, it’s cheaper than traveling to L.A. to meet
with these guys.”

He pulled out a photograph that
showed himself in a sequined suit that would have made Liberace squint. He was
standing on a stage in a karaoke bar and a man off to one side had an
expression that said he’d kill for a set of earplugs.

Sam suppressed a laugh and
wondered what the rest of the audience’s reaction had been. Whatever it was,
odds were that Vic Valentino had taken it as validation of his talent. He
seemed like that kind of guy.

He began humming a few atonal
notes and made his way over to the counter where Jen was now customer-less.
With a casual arm atop the glass display the words “love is . . .” came out in
a jarringly minor key.

She sent a
heh-heh
little smile toward him and then found something important to do in the other
room.

“On custom cakes we require
payment at the time the order is placed,” Sam said to the man.

“Oh, yeah, right.” At least he had
to quit humming to answer her. He fished around in his pockets, pulling out
cash of various denominations until he had come up with enough. Sam wrote a
receipt and told him the cake would be ready after four p.m. the next day.

The moment the front door bells
stopped moving, a giggle erupted from the back room. In the kitchen Sam found
Jen and Becky practically holding their sides.

“Come on, girls, this is the man’s
drea
—” A sputter of laughter came out. “Sorry. I can
only imagine those judges’ faces.”

She took a deep breath and became
businesslike. “It’s a rush order. We need to get moving.”

On that serious note Jen headed to
the sales room again and Sam began handing out assignments for the various
elements on the Valentino cake.

Chapter
3

By five-thirty they’d made decent
progress with the cake for the talent show
auditioner
.
While Sam finished three other orders, Julio had baked and stacked layers to
represent the stage, dirty-iced them and put them in the fridge to set up.
Becky had the basics of a little figurine sculpted in white chocolate.

“Check the plastic bin on the top
shelf,” Sam told Becky. “I think we have some edible glitter that will work for
the guy’s sparkly suit. Now if I just knew where to come up with fireworks.”

“I can get them,” Julio said.

Sam didn’t want to ask where he
planned to shop since all but the smallest types were illegal and even those
were usually unavailable after mid-summer. “Nothing that burns hot,” she said.
“We’re working with icing here. Maybe just some sparklers.”

He gave a pensive nod. “Got it.”

Kelly peeked in at the back door.
“Oh, hey. Didn’t realize everyone was still here. Mom, are you coming by the
house after work, or going straight out to Beau’s?”

“I have an errand over on the
plaza,” Sam said. “After that I’ll be at Beau’s. Well, I guess I better get in
the habit of calling the old house
your
place, since Beau’s is now
ours
.
Why?”

She’d bought a silver bracelet for
her best friend Zoë, who was offering her bed and breakfast gratis for the
ceremony, and the jeweler said she would have the engraving finished today. Sam
glanced at the clock above the sink. She better get over there before the shop
closed.

“Just deciding whether to pick up
dinner for one or two,” Kelly said. “It’s feeling strange, making plans for
myself only. Well, better go. One more client’s coming by to pick up a dog,
then I’m off.”

Sam put her tools away and washed
her hands, leaving Jen in charge of locking up.

The adobe buildings that ringed
the plaza shone rose-gold in the late afternoon light. Sam lucked into a
parking spot directly in front of the jewelry shop and the owner turned over
the Closed sign after letting her inside.

Choosing a gift for Zoë hadn’t
been easy. Her friend dressed so casually, favoring loose skirts and
embroidered tops, but when Sam had spotted the narrow silver bracelet with a
flower motif lightly etched into it she knew it was Zoë.

Adelia
Martinez, the jeweler, turned the piece around so Sam could see her words “Our
friendship has bloomed, like a flower in a well-tended garden. With love from
Sam.”

“Thank you so much,” Sam said.
“It’s just what I wanted for her.”

For Kelly, as her maid of honor,
Sam had chosen a different style bracelet—younger, stylish, with the added
sparkle of a few tiny diamonds.

Adelia
gave the bracelets a final polish with her cloth then wrapped them in satin
bags within small boxes for each of the ladies.

Sam tucked the little prizes into
her backpack and said goodbye. Out on the sidewalk she paused a minute to think.
Wasn’t there some other errand she’d intended to do before heading home? She
glanced up and down the narrow street, looking for a memory jog, when she saw
him again.

Walking right toward her came Jake
Calendar. His appearance here seemed a little too coincidental until she
remembered that he was staying at the La Fonda, just across the square from
here. She crossed the sidewalk and stood by her van, half hoping he wouldn’t
notice her. No such luck.

“Sam, hello again,” he said.

That’s when she noticed the young
woman with him. When Jake spoke the girl looped her arm through his. She was
tall and slender with a model’s face and posture, chin-length brown hair swept
to one side and a pink dress that barely grazed the middle of her thighs.

“Evie, this is Samantha Sweet, the
old friend from Alaska that I told you about. Sam, this is Evie Madsen.”

An expression, something like
relief, crossed
Evie’s
face before she said hello.
She raised her chin and pulled Jake closer, rubbing possessively against his
arm. Three seconds passed as Sam tried to reconcile the picture of this man who
was her age with this girl that could barely be out of college wrapped around
him.

“
Evie’s
with my crew. She’s in charge of the audition venue.”

Whatever that meant. She looked
more in charge of keeping Jake’s chest warm. A dozen wry comments came to mind
but what Sam said was, “Nice to meet you.”

Jake and the young appendage
stepped aside for an older man to pass on the sidewalk.

“So you’re already at that stage
of things, auditioning people for your show?” Sam asked. “I may have met one of
them at the bakery today.”

Jake seemed distracted by a man
who was staring at him from one of the benches in the center of the plaza. He
turned away but the heavyset guy got up and walked toward them. He had a jowly,
pockmarked face and dark eyes under ferocious eyebrows that went with the
coarse blond hair on his head.

Jake saw him coming, muttered
something that sounded like “damn
cosart
,” and peeled
away from Evie, meeting the man near the rear end of Sam’s van. Sam watched as
the rough-looking man said something under his breath and Jake responded with a
shake of his head. The guy jabbed a finger at Jake’s chest.

“You
wanna
watch out in little towns like this,” he said clearly. “A guy can get real sick
on a bad taco or
somethin
’ like that.”

He gave Jake a final, hard stare
then turned and strode away across the plaza. Jake tugged at the hem of his
jacket, straightening it. When he turned back toward Sam and Evie he had a
rather forced smile on his face.

“So,” he said. “We were actually
just out to find a little cantina someone recommended, someplace around here.
Sam, would you like to join us?”

Evie stepped on Jake’s foot—not
quite accidentally—then apologized half-heartedly.

“No, thanks. I’m getting on home
to make dinner for Beau.”

“Sam’s engaged, Evie. The wedding
is pretty soon, right?”

Sam edged toward the van, tired of
being around Jake. She’d nearly reached her door when movement across the
street caught her attention.