Chapter 12
By two o’clock Rupert and Sam were up to their elbows in cookies. He’d completely moved past the earlier little tiff and pitched in with his practiced ease in the kitchen. As Sam mixed each new flavor of dough he operated the press and filled cookie sheets with neat rows of butter cookies, chocolate spritz, butter-mint whirls and more. She shuffled them in and out of the oven and onto cooling racks. As he worked up the final batch she prepared decorator icing and began piping a variety of tiny summer flowers onto the cooled ones. She loved to see how many different styles she could come up with, customizing every order so the customer always received a surprise.
A tap at the kitchen door caught her attention. Zoe turned the knob and came in.
“Hey. You guys must be way into your own zone,” she said. “I knocked at the front door twice. Figured you had to be here since your truck is out front.”
Sam gestured toward the counters and table, which were covered with racks of cookies at various stages of completion.
“Quick question and I’ll leave you alone,” Zoe said. “Can I borrow your truck tomorrow, for the day? Darryl’s just informed me that he’s working and needs his truck, and I have some furniture to take to the library’s garage sale fundraiser. I told them I’d also help haul away anything that doesn’t sell by five o’clock. They donate it to the homeless shelter.”
“Ooh. I have to get all these cookies delivered to Santa Fe.”
She leaned against the counter, wheels turning. “How about we trade vehicles? Can you fit all the cookies into my Subaru wagon?”
“That’ll work.”
“Let’s just trade keys now. Sounds like we’ll both be done by early evening and we can switch back then.”
Sam wiped frosting off her hands, fetched the truck keys from her backpack and got Zoe on her way. The rest of the baking operation went smoothly and she was surprised to see that it was only four o’clock as she started clearing the mixing bowls and putting the utensils to soak in the sink.
“You, girl, sure know how to roar through an order,” Rupert commented, plopping into one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m beat.”
She stared around the room. They’d accomplished an amazing amount of baking in a short time, and the results were stacked everywhere. “Thank goodness for triple-decked racks,” she said. “This kitchen is so inadequate.”
“Hey, you’ll get your shop. My offer still stands.”
He’d generously proposed to loan Sam the money to properly open Sweet’s Sweets. She had to admit that it was tempting to take him up on it. But she also knew that opening a retail store was a risky thing. There would be a lot of expenses that she couldn’t foresee, and she’d feel better if she could at least foot most of the bill herself, without the worry of repaying a loan. A flash of irritation, again, at her daughter for helping herself to the savings Sam had so carefully accumulated. She suppressed it and turned on a flame under the tea kettle.
“I think we can spare a few of these little beauties and have ourselves a proper tea,” she told Rupert, handing him a plate.
He chose an assortment of the cookies and she poured them each a cup of Earl Grey.
Sam woke up Sunday morning feeling satisfied. After she’d taken Rupert home—he swore that the cookies had given him renewed energy to get back to his writing—she’d pulled out disposable platters and carefully arranged the cookies in two nice displays, topping them with plastic covers. They’d made a couple dozen extras, just in case, and she made up a few sampler baggies. It never hurt to throw in a few gifts along the way.
After a slow-paced morning at home she loaded up her treasures and headed for Santa Fe. The hour and a half drive went smoothly, the only traffic snags coming as she approached the northern edge of the capital city, where weekends brought crowds out to the flea market. By then she was watching for the turnoff to Casa de Tranquilidad, where she followed a winding gravel road to the hotel resort. The meandering adobe building sat at an overlook, surrounded by pine forest. Really a beautiful spot for conferences or weddings or social events. Sam hoped her effort on the cookies would bring even more business from them.
She pulled under the portico at the front entrance, unsure which meeting room was her destination. The hotel’s conference coordinator usually suggested she avoid the bustle of the kitchen, as long as the client’s meeting room was available. She made a quick inquiry at the front desk, got her instructions and headed back to the car. The valet parking attendant seemed a bit impatient at the length of time she’d parked and she felt pressure to stack the trays and carry them both at once. About the time she’d nearly dumped one of them a young woman with long auburn hair came walking up. She looked like a hotel guest, carrying a leather duffle, and she noticed Sam’s plight.
“Could I help you with those?” she asked, dropping her bag near the Subaru.
Sam gladly handed off one of the trays. “Thanks. It wasn’t smart for me to try handling both of them.”
She followed Sam inside and they set down their burdens. Back at the car the younger woman picked up her duffle, introducing herself as Charlie Parker.
“Here, Charlie, let me . . .” Sam reached for the samples she’d bagged up. “If you ever need pastries, give me a call.”
She looked at Sam’s card and thanked her, eyeing the cookies—obviously a girl who liked her sweets, although her slender figure belied that. Sam gave her a smile and then caught the eye of the valet who was clearly sending annoyance vibes her way. She climbed back into the car as Charlie went into the lobby.
Sam stopped in Espanola for a quick burger and reached the outskirts of Taos as it was getting dark. Her cell phone rang about two seconds after she’d traded Zoe’s Subaru back for her pickup truck, Beau asking if she’d like to meet for dinner. She explained about the burger and he sounded so disappointed that she caved and said she’d love an ice cream.
They decided that the Sonic Drive-in on the south side of town could satisfy both his need for solid food and her ice cream desires. She headed that way and had just pulled in when she spotted his Explorer behind her. He parked it at the side of the property and Sam pulled in at one of the slots with the old-time speakers for ordering. He climbed into her truck and they stared at the menu and placed their orders.
“I’m glad you were available on short notice,” he said, sending a genuine smile her way. “This way it’s not officially a date.”
She sent him a saucy grin and told him about the delivery in Santa Fe. “You caught me just at the right moment. Otherwise, I’d have been snug inside.”
He gave her a long, intent gaze. “Sam, I . . .”
Before he could finish the thought, a girl arrived with their tray. In the exchange of wrapped food, drinks, and cash, Beau took charge and Sam simply accepted her hot fudge sundae and watched as he unwrapped his chicken sandwich.
“Is there anything new on Cantone’s death?”
“Not yet. Still waiting on some lab results.” He turned sideways in his seat to face her. “But I don’t want to think about work right now.”
She’d set her empty sundae dish in the cup holder between them and he reached over to run a gentle finger down her forearm. He’d hardly taken two bites of his sandwich.
“Sam, I don’t really know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. I’m incredibly attracted to you.”
She blushed and fiddled with a wadded napkin.
“You’re a sexy lady, Sam. Don’t you see that?”
“Ha!” It had been a whole lot of years since she’d seen herself as sexy. She met his gaze. “What is it that you see in me, really? I mean, you are this incredibly attractive man who could be dating fashion models, or at least women who are a lot younger and are built like fashion models. Why me?”
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I love your smile, the way you laugh so easily, your energy. I’ve dated enough empty-headed, self-centered, beautiful women to know that they are a waste of my time.”
