Sweet's Sweets: The Second Samantha Sweet Mystery

“Sure, Sam. Just let me know when you need them,” he said when Zoe put him on the line.

“Wednesday morning? The roll-off folks said they’d deliver the dumpster Tuesday but you never know what time they’ll actually show up.”

“Perfect. Give me the address. I think I can spare three guys by then.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as she hung up. She would give the hired muscle a list of what to do at the southside property and then she could concentrate on her shop.

While she was feeling energetic, she gathered cleaning supplies and tools and loaded them into her big Silverado pickup truck. It was the better vehicle to use when hauling big loads, keeping her little van clean for bakery deliveries.

She dialed Beau to ask how Iris was doing.

“Pretty well. Doc says she’s about as expected for someone her age. It’s just that her bones aren’t strong and since she’s been in the chair these last few months . . . well, they aren’t going to get any stronger. She’ll . . . well, she’s doing okay.”

His optimism sounded forced. She told him about the signing of the lease on the shop this morning and that she would be taking the van in for its custom paint job tomorrow.

“Sounds like you’ll have your hands full for weeks. Any chance I’ll get to see you?”

“Want to offer me a ride in your cruiser? After I make a few bakery deliveries in the morning I’ll have to leave the van at the sign shop and I could sure use a ride back home to get my truck.” She had a feeling he wanted more time alone than fifteen minutes driving in traffic. But this week was already becoming impossible. Not a good time for a new romance to take hold.

“I can manage it,” he said. With Sheriff Orlando Padilla hot on the campaign trail for re-election in just a couple of weeks, Beau’s boss was rarely in the office to check on the deputies these days. Beau was usually the senior man on duty.

“If you get some emergency call, that’s fine. If it’s a problem I can ask Rupert or Zoe.”

“Don’t you worry. Call me when you get to the sign shop.”

Sam hung up and glanced at the clock. After ten. Kelly must have gone to bed already. She usually left to care for Iris well before sunrise these days. Sam checked the doors and turned out lights. Falling into bed, she wrestled the blankets, wondering if she really was up to the task of juggling all her jobs while she got her business going. She forced her eyes closed.

“The box holds many secrets.”

Sam raised up in bed, peering into the darkness. A glowing form stood beside her bed, a wizened face staring at her. “Use the powers of the box to help you, Samantha.” The mouth didn’t move but the words were clear. She stared at her surroundings. The walls were red, with strange white symbols painted on them. Then her bed was gone. She stood on a cold wood floor, surrounded by small white mounds that formed a pentagram. “Your strength will not fail you and many good things will come to you.” The glowing figure vanished.

Sam startled awake. She listened but heard only utter silence in the darkness. Her skin tingled with goose bumps and her hands felt like ice. She pulled a heavy comforter over her and gradually drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter 3

Bright sunlight flooded the room and Sam came awake in a flash. She glanced around her bedroom. It was only a dream.

The wooden box sat on her dresser, slightly off-kilter from its usual spot. The carved, quilted pattern was its usual dull self. She wondered why she’d even kept the thing after the dying woman insisted she take it. Humoring her was one thing . . . holding on to the crudely carved box was another. Why hadn’t she just dropped it off at the thrift shop with all the other junk?

Because maybe Bertha Martinez was right. Maybe the box did hold special powers. When Sam handled it the wood began to glow and actually become attractive. And herself? People had commented that she looked younger, fresher, at times. Times when she’d handled that box. But what about the odd visions? Did she really—

Stop it! Sam ordered herself.

Flinging the covers aside, she got out of bed and stuffed the box into a dresser drawer and closed it, out of sight. No more of this.

She brushed her teeth and dressed, then headed for the kitchen where Kelly had left a carafe of coffee for her. Sam poured a mug and downed the searing brew, black. The nighttime cobwebs began to clear.

Silly. It was just a dream. And it was just a stupid box.

She grabbed the key for her van and opened the side door remotely. Planning her delivery route, she loaded the pumpkin cheesecake, the cookies and other finished pastries into the vehicle and headed out, scheduling the chocolate cupcake delivery at the bookstore for last.

Once she had her retail location open, most customers would probably opt to stop by and pick up their orders and Sam could concentrate on baking rather than delivering. Soon, she thought as she left the chocolate dessert with Ivan and headed for the paint shop.

Beau showed up as she was finalizing details, startling the artwork man who clearly was not accustomed to an armed law enforcement officer showing up in his place of business.

“He’s just my ride home,” Sam assured the guy, although that statement didn’t seem to come out right either.

Beau touched the brim of his Stetson and took a glance at the sketches the artist had prepared based on Kelly’s initial design.

“Looks good,” he said.

“I’m excited about it,” Sam told him as they walked out to his cruiser. “They’re using that technique which covers the whole vehicle with art. My plain little white van is going to look like a traveling bakery case, and it’ll have my purple logo very prominent on the sides and back.”

Beau complimented Sam on her business strategy, then he sneaked a little kiss on the back of her neck before opening the passenger door for her.

“Think we might get together tonight?” he asked, with a sultry tone.

She waited for him to walk around to the driver’s door and get in. “This week isn’t going to be good for me. There’s just so much—”

He looked away and concentrated on pulling out into traffic.

Sam chided herself. The sexual part of their relationship had been sporadic over the past month. It was always good between them, but their crazy schedules—his elderly mother, her concentration on the new business —everything seemed to be conspiring against their having much time alone. And now she’d probably hurt his feelings.

“I understand.” His voice was tight.

He’d always wanted the relationship to move along faster than she did. And although she’d initially wondered what a movie-star-handsome deputy saw in a graying, slightly chunky baker, the fact that they clicked couldn’t be denied. On the other hand, she’d been on her own her whole adult life. It would take a lot of convincing for her to allow a man completely into her life. She picked at a ragged cuticle while he watched the traffic.

“We’re nearly at the Plaza,” she said. “Want to swing by and see the shop? It isn’t much, right now. You’ll have to do a lot of visualization.”

His jaw was still tight. “Maybe later. I better just drop you off at home.”

Uh-oh. Worse than she’d thought.

Two minutes later, he pulled into her long driveway and brought the white-and-brown SUV to a halt. She leaned across the console full of computer and radio equipment and kissed his cheek.

“I’m not writing us off, Beau. It’s just that this bakery has been my dream for years. Do you understand what that means to me?”

He turned to face her. “I do.” He flashed her the smile that had initially gotten her attention, nearly two months ago. “I really do, Sam. Do you understand how much you mean to me?”

Yikes. Please don’t let this be the commitment speech, she thought.

She squeezed his hand and smiled back at him. Keep it light. “Let’s plan on a dinner out, just the two of us,