“I still have a lot of Cantone’s papers. Something told me not to just throw them out. Maybe I’ll go through them and see if there’s a copy of a will. It would be interesting to know if we’re getting the full story from Bart.”
“If you do find one, there will probably be an attorney’s name with it, or somewhere in his papers. The attorney would be the best one to follow up with. It’s outside the jurisdiction of my department unless a judge orders us to serve papers.”
“The other thing that’s bugging me is the question of reburying Cantone. Now that we know there is a living relative, shouldn’t he be involved?”
“Yeah, and I guess I need to check that out and probably pay a visit to him. The property no longer belongs to Cantone, unless Bart wants to step in and pay the mortgage and back taxes.” Beau didn’t sound happy about getting this involved.
Sam gave him Bart’s phone number and drove back home.
Kelly was gone when she got there. A glance into her room showed an unmade bed and an explosion of clothing on every surface. No hints about where she’d gone, but it wasn’t back to L.A.
She began the assembly of the wedding cake for tomorrow’s delivery—icing each tier in ivory buttercream, then stacking the tiers on dowels with separators between.
While letting the smooth icing set, she dragged out the box of papers she’d brought from Cantone’s place. Aside from the bank statements there were really only a couple of folders that looked like they contained anything important. Most were paid bills dating back a year or so. She carefully paged through every sheet but there was no will and nothing with an attorney’s name. If there had been a will, as Bart Killington claimed, chances were good that he had the only copy. The knowledge chafed at her.
She washed her hands thoroughly and went back to the cake. Her favorite part was the actual decorating. She pulled bowls of buttercream that she’d made earlier from the refrigerator and began filling pastry bags. Scrolls and fluted ribbons flowed from the tip of the bag, and her royal-icing lace blended in with the soft frosting beautifully. Two hours slipped by as she became completely immersed in the work. Finally, she took the mauve roses from the fridge and placed them, piping a few leaves around them for authenticity. Tiny pearlized dots completed the look.
Out on the service porch was a separate refrigerator with most of the shelves removed, which she used for cake storage until the actual delivery. She opened the door to it, hefted the forty pounds of cake and ornate frosting, and placed it gently inside. Done. At least for today.
She heard Kelly’s car in the driveway as she headed back to the kitchen. Maybe she should threaten to put Kelly to work as her clean-up assistant. That would certainly get her out there pushing harder to find a desk job.
“Hey, Mom,” Kelly said, her brown curls bouncing as she came into the kitchen. “Did you see the message I left on the counter?”
Sam looked around but every surface in the kitchen was filled with baking and decorating utensils.
“Near the microwave,” Kelly said.
Wedged into the narrow space between the oven and the wall Sam got a glimpse of yellow paper. She picked it out and saw that someone wanted an order of cupcakes for a birthday party tomorrow afternoon. Suddenly, a week with more business than she could handle. When it rains it pours, as her mother used to say. As long as the kitchen was a mess anyway, she might as well get with it now.
She called the customer to verify details—suggested buttercream frosting, since there was a lot of it left— and then mixed up a batch of batter and started baking the two-dozen cupcakes. While they were in the oven she searched out her largest decorating tips. Huge flowers were quick and easy to make with the oversized tips, and she thought they’d go over well with the birthday girl, a thirty-something who’d heard about Sam through her friend Erica. She quickly tinted frosting in a variety of colors and placed it aside in the fridge.
“How about if I make dinner tonight?” Kelly offered, coming in from her room. “I learned a quick pasta dish awhile back, if you’ve got some small tomatoes and linguine.”
Sam took back most of the negative thoughts she’d had about her daughter in the last twenty-four hours. At times she could be so thoughtful. Seeing mom up to her chin in dirty dishes and frosting must have triggered her cooperative-gene. Or not.
“I’m starving!” she said. “Is it okay if I get started on the pasta now?”
Sam filled the dishwasher, dumped the rest of the buttery items into hot water to soak, and gladly turned the kitchen over.
“I’m going to get a quick shower,” Sam told her. “When the timer on the oven goes off, just take the cupcakes out and set them on these racks.”
When she stepped out of the shower ten minutes later she got the distinctive whiff of smoke.
Chapter 18
Sam snatched up a robe and dashed for the kitchen.
“Kelly! What’s burning?”
She emerged from the living room where some female gossip show on TV must have held her attention.
The cupcakes sat on the table, safe on their cooling racks.
“Oh shit—the garlic bread!” Kelly dashed for the oven but it was too late. The blackened bread was too far gone. “Oh no, this would have been so perfect with the pasta.”
Sam opened a window and the back door, fanning the air with a towel before the smoky smell could saturate her baked goods.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We can live without bread.”
“Oh, god, I can’t believe how stupid I am.” Kelly flopped into a chair at the table, her head in her hands.
“Kell, it’s really okay.” Sam dumped the burned toast into the trash and aimed a shot of air freshener toward the center of the room. The tomato sauce was simmering gently on the burner and it really did look good. And the pasta seemed nearly ready. “Look, everything else is going to be just perfect.”
Kelly raised a tearstained face. “Really?”
“Really.” Sam started to pat her on the shoulder but the phone rang just then. She wasn’t sure she could handle another last-minute bakery order but it turned out to be Zoe.
“Just the person I wanted to talk to,” Sam told her. “I’ve been wondering if we might trade vehicles again tomorrow. I have a large cake to deliver and I think yours would be more steady than my big old truck.” Another expense she’d have to consider, even before opening her shop, would be a better vehicle. A small van was what she really needed.
“Sure, no problem. I’ll bring it over now. I was just checking to see if you could use some zucchini from the garden. I’ve got tons.”
Sam readily agreed because she’d just come across a new recipe for zucchini bread and wanted to give it a try. She could tweak it and turn it into a seasonal signature bakery item.
Kelly’s pasta dish produced way more than the two of them could possibly eat so she sent Zoe home with enough dinner for herself and Darryl. By the time they sat down to eat Sam was more than ready to be off her feet for awhile.
Darling daughter apparently sensed that her old mom was worn out, so she offered to clean up the kitchen. Sam sat at the table piping huge roses, chrysanthemums, hydrangeas and lilies onto the red-velvet cupcake tops. Simple to do but very showy—she felt sure the customer would be thrilled at having something different than a traditional birthday cake. As she finished with each of the decorating tips she tossed them into a bowl of hot water; Kelly took them to the sink and washed everything thoroughly.
“Mom,” she said. “Thanks for taking me in. I really mean that.” She paused from wiping the counter tops and fixed Sam with those aquamarine eyes.
Sam teared up and reached out to give her a hug. Despite those frustrating times when she made rash
