hook up the existing gas lines to the ovens. Technically, a town inspector had to check the work and sign off on everything before she could prepare food here, and Sam was beginning to fret over that since the death of her oven at home, but Darryl came to the rescue.
In true New Mexico tradition, the burly contractor phoned the uncle of a brother-in-law of one of his crew, who just happened to be the inspector they needed. Sam left the room, nearly in despair, when she overheard the part about the guy’s schedule being backed up for a minimum of two weeks. She absolutely could not deal with this!
She speed-walked around the block, letting the chill October air blast through her thin shirt, her reward for stomping out without remembering her jacket. The frigid air cleared her head enough to remind her that she better pursue repairs to her home oven.
When she got back to the shop, hands tingling and lips nearly blue, Darryl informed her that the inspector would be there in thirty minutes.
“Don’t ask,” he said.
She closed her gaping mouth and just let him proceed to direct his guys in the final few steps to complete the installation. A call to the appliance repair shop netted a vague promise that someone could probably get out to her house by the end of the week.
“What?” Jen called from the front of the bakery.
Sam found her assistant wiping the tables with disinfectant spray, taking advantage of a small lull in the traffic.
“Nothing,” Sam said, placing an arm around Jen’s shoulders. “Thanks so much. You’ve been a real godsend to me today.”
The younger woman smiled. “I’m loving it here. Staying busy is so much better than what I was doing before.”
“Now if I could just find a clone of you, one with baking skills, I’d feel like I could take a deep breath without falling behind in my schedule.”
“Seriously? If you want more help right away, I know someone.”
“It would probably just be part time at first,” Sam said, realizing that she had no idea how many people she could afford to hire.
“I’m sure Becky could use whatever time you can offer.”
“Becky? Little Becky Gurule that you and Kelly were in Girl Scouts with?”
Jennifer laughed. “Well, she’s Becky Harper now and she has two kids in school. Her little boy just started first grade this year and Becky’s feeling kind of lost without the patter of little feet.”
Sam tended to forget that these little girls were now in their thirties and it made perfect sense that they could be wives and mothers. She’d had a school-aged child at that time in her own life. By now she could very well be a grandmother, herself. She stifled that thought and asked Jen to write down Becky’s phone number for her.
“Let me see when we’ll have our kitchen functioning before I make a commitment,” she said.
She ducked into the back room again and saw that the men were putting their tools away. The new stainless steel baking ovens fit perfectly into the space where she’d envisioned them. And the big double-capacity sinks would be such a help when large bowls and all the utensils began to pile up. She gave Darryl a huge grin as he dismissed his crew.
“What do I owe you?” she asked, looking around for his invoice.
“Consider it a house-warming present. Or maybe that’s a shop-warming present.”
“Oh, no, no, no. You can’t be giving away your services. You’ve got expenses,” she said, nodding toward the workers.
“It was a slow afternoon. We’re waiting on an inspection on that house before we can go to the next phase.” He shook his head wryly.
Sam laughed. “Call Gus’s brother-in-law again?”
“I wish it was the same guy.” He set a toolbox near the back door. “Hey, I’ll tell you what I
Sam grabbed his arm and led him into the front of the shop. “Your wish is my command. Take anything you want—everything you want! Jen, how fresh is that coffee?”
“I just brewed a new pot. It’s that time of afternoon when a lot of people want a little break.”
“Perfect. Pour the biggest mug we have for Darryl.”
She watched the white-haired bear of a man settle at one of the tables with a slice of pumpkin cheesecake.
“The place is looking great, Sam. Zoe better get over here to see it.”
“Send her anytime. But it’ll be better later in the week.” She told him about the new awning that would go across the front of the shop, the large sign for the front of the building and the smaller, painted signs on the windows. “You guys are coming to the big gala on Saturday night aren’t you?”
He mumbled through a mouthful of cheesecake, just as Sam looked up to see a man in dark slacks, white shirt, tie and leather jacket come through the front door. With a clipboard under his arm, this had to be the inspector. She smiled brightly.
“That was worse than a GYN exam,” she complained to Kelly on the phone. Six o’clock and Sam felt dead on her feet. Mr. Hernandez was one of those self-important bureaucrats who couched his claws behind a smile. Every comment was, “This little thing doesn’t look quite right” or “You can understand why I’ll have to red-tag that.”
All the while he put on a benevolent smile, as if he were presenting her with a gift. Which, in a way, she had to admit he was. He could have remained adamant about not even showing up for two more weeks.
Thank heaven for Darryl. He’d played the game as well as she could imagine it being done. Jumping when the inspector said jump, fixing each small item as it was pointed out (turning the soap dispenser to face forward instead of to the right, for pete’s sake!); knowing when the guy was being plain unreasonable and putting up a polite argument; knowing when the man was flat-out wrong and pointing to the rule book when necessary. Sam could have never done it without the contractor’s help. She made a mental note to think of a suitable thank-you gift.
“What can I do to help?” Kelly asked. “I could start something for dinner.”
“That would be wonderful—something light. Just look in the freezer and pantry and see what’s there. I can’t think right now. Just remember the oven’s on the fritz.”
Kelly assured her that she could find something. Sam hung up and then realized that she’d never gotten around to calling Becky Harper. At the moment she couldn’t imagine how she would manage to be open another day without some additional help. Jen had agreed, before leaving, to come in early again in the morning. But Sam just about despaired when she looked at the nearly empty display cases. She took a quick inventory and decided on the recipes she could make most quickly to assure that the store wasn’t bare by opening time at seven a.m.
How would she do this every day and manage to throw a big party just five days from now?
Chapter 11
It was time for the box. Sam lay in the bathtub, soaking the ache from her muscles, barely remembering the dinner Kelly had prepared—grilled chicken and fresh veggies. Where had those come from? She couldn’t remember shopping for food in at least a week. She closed her eyes, breathing the herbal scent of the bubbles that floated up to her neck.
Sometime between leaving the shop and arriving here in this bathtub she’d phoned Becky Harper. The timing was bad—Becky no doubt in the middle of making dinner for her family, kids screeching in the background, a job
