Deadly Sweet Dreams

by Connie Shelton

  “Meaning?”

  “That’s not the first call he’s received that he wanted to avoid.” He switched off the bathroom light and circled the bed. “A couple of days ago, we were mucking out the stalls and he got a call. He started to take it but seemed shaken when he saw the name on the screen. I asked if everything was all right and he said yeah … but I could tell it wasn’t. He just said it was his father and he’d call him back later.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  His mouth twisted slightly.

  “Come on, Beau, think back to your law enforcement days. You know how to read people. Did you believe him?”

  He shook his head. “No. But, hon, it’s not our business.”

  “But this Lila … it feels like she’s some kind of trouble.”

  “And again, it’s none of our business.” This time his voice was firm and she knew there was no point in pursuing the question.

  He switched out the light, and Sam plumped her pillow. But she didn’t fall asleep for a while.

  * * *

  February twenty-ninth. Sam stood back and surveyed her work, a tendril of purple icing threatening to drop from the decorating tip in her right hand. The cake had to be perfect, and yet how did one make a cake perfect for a four-year-old’s taste? It was usually the mothers who must be pleased, but Kelly wouldn’t care—it was Ana who had placed the order. She spun the turntable a quarter turn to the left and checked the tint of the deep night sky with its constellations of silver dragées.

  Surrounding the cake were pairs of calico cats. Sam knew where that came from—Eliza, the family pet. And between the cats was a silhouette, a fair rendition of the Victorian house where Anastasia lived with her parents. Her granddaughter had been quite specific about these details. The part Ana had been somewhat vague about was that she wanted a witch on top, but no further details. “A witch” was all she had to go by.

  She set aside the pastry bag and reached for the topper she’d created from modeling chocolate. A bright yellow-white full moon formed the backdrop for a cartoon-cute witch on a broomstick. Set in place, the moon and witch floated above the nighttime scene on the cake itself. Sam had debated whether the witch should have a traditional green face and black hair, but in the end she’d created a fun avatar of Ana herself—pale skin, red hair, tiny freckles across the nose. She wore a flowing purple dress. Her concession to traditional black for the witch was a pointy hat with purple band and at the last minute she added Eliza, riding on the broomstick with her.

  She anchored the topper with some extra icing and stepped back to view her work.

  “Nice,” said Becky Gurule, head decorator now at Sweet’s Sweets. “I have to admit, the theme seemed kind of Halloween-like for February, but this is so cute.”

  The back door rattled and a gust of cold air rushed in. Kelly followed Ana inside, turning to close the door.

  “Wow, the storm’s moving out fast,” she said, shaking snowflakes from her cinnamon curls.

  Ana raced in and came to an abrupt halt, her eyes wide when she saw the cake. “Grammy, it’s perfect!”

  Sam held up a hand. “Don’t touch. Some of the parts aren’t set yet.”

  Ana stepped closer but kept her hands at her sides, taking in details. “Eliza! She’s riding with me!”

  “Can’t have a birthday without the cat, right?”

  “Are you going to put a one on it?” Ana asked, holding up her index finger. “I really want a one.”

  “We can put a one.” Sam showed her a numeral she had formed from bright orange modeling chocolate to contrast with the darker color of the sky.

  “Yay!” said Ana, dashing off to the sales room to see Jen.

  Unlike most kids, who adamantly claimed bragging rights to every year, every month, of their age, Anastasia was quite proud of the fact that, being a leap-day baby, this was actually her first birthday. While Kelly and Scott wanted their little girl to have a party every year, since last year Ana had insisted they not invite friends or make a big deal of it until it was actually her birthday. And the big day was now upon them.

  Becky looked up from the tray of brownies she was frosting. “Scott’s home schooling is showing off. I swear, she’s brighter than my fifth grader.”

  Kelly waved aside the compliment, although Sam knew it was true. Ana had begun to show uncanny abilities before her second year. Did she have some kind of gift, or was it simply because she spent a lot more time around adults than other kids? Sam attached the numeral 1 to the front of the cake, checked for any little fixups, and reached for a box to set it in.

  Ana emerged from the showroom with a coconut macaroon in hand. “Ready, Mommy? I need to finish my spelling words before the party.”

  Kelly and Becky exchanged a see-what-I-mean look. Kelly made sure their jackets were zipped and they headed out.

  Once the witch cake was safely stashed in the large walk-in fridge, Sam headed for her best friend Zoë’s place.

  Yesterday’s storm had, indeed, blown through, leaving the sky a brilliant blue today and, aside from flakes flying off the trees and a few spots where snow lay in frozen drifts, there was little sign of the ferocious weather of the previous day. She arrived at the bed and breakfast as the last of the overnight guests were stowing skis and poles into a car-top carrier in the small parking area out front.

  “Hey there,” Zoë said, meeting Sam at the back door. “I hadn’t thought I’d see you until later.” She wore a turquoise broomstick skirt and a black long-sleeved top, and her shoulder-length graying hair was pulled back in a clip at the nape of her neck.

  “Kelly sent me on a mission. The punch bowl she asked to borrow? She’s wondering if I can take it over there early. Apparently, she didn’t realize she would need to mix the ingredients a couple of hours ahead.”

  “Oh, sure, come on in.” Zoë turned toward the big storage pantry off her kitchen. “The temp really dropped last night, didn’t it?”

  She carried out a big object that was more beverage dispenser than bowl, explaining that it was indeed what Kelly had in mind.

  “I’ll have the sandwiches all ready, and Darryl and I will bring them when we come. Egg salad, watercress, and hummus, right?”

  Sam laughed with a little shake of her head. “That’s what I hear. Our little Miss Ana seems to have very grownup ideas about the party food. I have no idea if she’s ever actually tasted watercress. Probably saw the idea in a magazine somewhere.”

  “I think to be on the safe side I’ll add some chicken salad and maybe some ham and cheese rollups. I can’t imagine most of the men loving watercress or hummus.”

  Sam loaded the punch dispenser into the back seat of her SUV and headed toward her next stop, Walmart. This morning she realized she had no appropriately sized gift bag for the outfit she’d bought Ana. Everything was either way too big, way too small, or of Christmas design. She hoped the big store wouldn’t be too crowded.

  She still needed to swing back by Sweet’s Sweets to get the cake and then get to Kelly’s in time to help with the decorations. If she had to guess, she would bet Ana had been up since dawn, and Scott was probably on a ladder right now, placing streamers and balloons according to his little daughter’s precise instructions.

  A parking space opened up near the building and Sam grabbed it. Inside, she paused a moment to get her bearings. The floor arrangement of this place was always changing, and it took her a moment to remember where the cards, gift wrap, and decorations had last been seen. She headed to her left, hoping she had guessed correctly.

  The row she thought she wanted now held candles and silk flowers and she nearly bypassed it when she caught sight of a familiar figure—Danny Flores. He stood with his back to Sam, but the young woman in a short red dress and black furry jacket, who was talking and shaking her finger in his face, paused a moment and stared pointedly at her. Sam ducked to the next aisle and found the gift bags.

  The voices carried and, okay, she did edge her way to the end
of the aisle where the hearing was better.

  “Lila, I—”

  “No, Danny, remember, you promised. Honey, you’re always forgetting things.”

  His response was somewhat muffled, and Sam only caught “No—wait!”

  This was getting ugly. Sam debated whether to step around the endcap and reveal herself, to give Danny an escape.

  “Not here!” His voice was strained, as if the words were being forced out through clenched teeth.

  “Tomorrow, then,” Lila said. “We’ll get together and I can explain everything once again.”

  Poor Danny needed a reprieve. Sam stepped to the endcap and began browsing through the scented candles, pretending not to notice the couple but hoping to give the poor guy a way out.

  He didn’t notice her, but Lila shot her a look and turned away.

  “Bye, honey,” Lila said, over her shoulder. “I love you.” Her heels clicked decisively away.

  When Sam looked toward him, Danny was walking in the opposite direction.

  So, that was Lila. And what was the story? Sam’s mind wanted to put together all kinds of scenarios, but all she really knew was that the young woman seemed way more into him than he was into her. Those things happened all the time, and Sam supposed the situation would work itself out somehow. She sighed and went back to the gift bags.

  Chapter 4

  Kelly and Scott had left the driveway under the side portico at their Victorian house clear so Sam would have easy access to the kitchen door. She made the left turn, noticing green shoots coming up in the raised flower beds Kelly had added along the front porch of the old house. They had made some nice improvements to the place. Zoë’s car sat near the front door. Sam parked under the portico and got out. Beau, in the passenger seat of her car, handed the cake out to her.

  Inside, Kelly was stirring something over a burner on the big commercial range that dated back to the house’s days as a chocolate factory. She wore a big apron over black leggings and a purple sweater. The apron said Kiss The Cook across the front.

  “Hey, Mom,” she called out. “Oh! The cake—Ana has talked about it nonstop. There’s a spot for it on the dining table if you want to carry it straight in there.”

  Beau offered to take it, so Sam handed off the shallow box holding the cake with its night sky, silvery stars, and the cute witch flying past the full moon.

  “I’m making some queso dip,” Kelly said. “I know—Ana wants this to be an English tea, but once she added a witch cake and gummy-candy treats, I figured we were going more eclectic. And I figured the guys would like something more substantial than watercress.”

  Sam laughed and told her about Zoë’s plans for the sandwich platter.

  “Sounds like we’ll be fine.”

  Almost as if she’d heard her name, Zoë came into the kitchen with a large plastic-covered plate. “Can I help with anything? I set a platter of sandwiches on the table where Scott directed me, and these are extras.”

  “There’s a huge bag of tortilla chips,” Kelly said, tilting her head toward the countertop near the sink. “You could find a bowl and dump them in. I should have this dip off the stove in a minute, and it’s going into the mini-crockpot right here. I’m thinking we could plug it in and put these and the guacamole from the fridge out on the table in the living room. We’ll try to spread the guests around or everyone will end up in here, staring at my sink full of dirty dishes.”

  Sam shed her backpack and jacket, hanging them on hooks by the back door, then picked up the dip and headed for the living room. Kelly’s sweet husband seemed to have everything organized. He kissed her cheek and pointed her toward a large side table that stood ready to hold chips and dips, while he directed Darryl where to take coats and went himself to answer the front door.

  A low coffee table was already stacked with gifts, and when she saw Danny Flores come in with a purple gift bag topped with a fluff of purple tissue, she sent him in that direction.

  “Where’s the birthday girl?” she asked Scott when he paused for a moment.

  “Oh, she’s going to make an entrance.” His eyebrows arched upward and a wry smile tweaked his mouth.

  Sam’s eyes followed the grand staircase from the foyer to the second floor. “Ah. Well, her Grammy probably shouldn’t bother her then.”

  “She kind of has an entourage already.”

  “Seriously? She’s not turning into a complete diva already, is she?”

  “Just for today. Apparently that’s a thing. Her little friend, Hannah, got the princess treatment on her birthday so now Ana thinks that’s how it’s done. The two of them are probably tossing clothes all over her room up there.”

  Sam looked around, spotting most of their circle of friends. Zoë and Darryl, of course, plus her close friend Rupert, dressed as usual in flowing soft pants and tunic, with a purple scarf draped stylishly around his neck. The girls from the bakery—Jen and Becky—were in the dining room, and she saw Becky checking the cake for any dings. Becky’s two boys hung near their dad, looking bored. Coming to a younger kid’s party—a girl at that—was probably not their idea of how to spend a Saturday afternoon. Sam suspected Becky had bribed them with some incentive for later on if they would agree to put in an appearance.

  Footsteps on the wooden front porch called her attention to the beveled glass door, and she went to admit Riki and Evan Richards, Beau’s deputy who had taken over for him after the shooting. Each gave Sam a hearty hug and Riki held out a wrapped box.

  “In there,” Sam said, pointing toward the living room and the laden coffee table.

  “And is Kelly becoming a bit insane at the moment?” Riki asked. “The party looks absolutely brilliant.”

  “Speaking of our hostess …” Sam said, clearing a path for Kelly with her crockpot full of cheese dip.

  Kelly set it on the serving table and plugged the cord out of the way. “There! I think I’m nearly ready for a cup of the adult version of the punch,” she said, pulling off her apron.

  “Shall we, then?” Riki suggested. The two of them headed toward the beverage cart Scott had set near the dining room windows, chatting away about Puppy Chic, Riki’s grooming business, as if they didn’t already spend quite a few hours a week there together.

  Sam turned to survey the crowd and her eye caught Zoë who, out of habit, was looking to be sure everyone had something to drink and a plate of snacks. It seemed no one was alone. Even Danny, who didn’t know most of the group, was standing near Beau and talking animatedly with Scott.

  A hiss caught Sam’s attention. “Grammy! Grammy!” came a stage whisper. She looked up and saw Ana at the top of the stairs. Scott was right—from her lavender dress to the tiara that tried to control her fiery-red curls, the princess was ready for her entrance.

  “Announce me!” Ana whispered.

  Sam nodded. With a metal spoon from the drinks table she began tapping a glass. “Attention, attention! All subjects will now step into the foyer for the arrival of Princess Anastasia Sweet Porter!” She winked at Kelly, who led the way.

  Little Ana played her role to perfection, flouncing down the stairs in her billowing tulle skirt, her chin held high. Hannah followed along in her own fluffy purple dress, her eyes on the tiara, which had begun to list to one side. At the bottom of the staircase, Ana curtsied to her guests and managed to catch the tiara as it slid off her forehead and plopped into her hands. For a moment she looked shaken but recovered nicely when her audience began to applaud.

  “All hail Princess Ana!” Scott announced, saving the moment and making his daughter’s day.

  The two little girls bounded toward the dining room, wanting to see the finished cake.

  Kelly turned to Sam. “Well, she’s got the idea of party planning down pat, if not the art of nailing a particular theme.”

  “I was wondering about that … depicting herself as a witch on the cake didn’t quite seem in keeping with her princess image.”

  Kelly shrugged. “She’s a
girl of very definite ideas. I couldn’t explain it if I had to.”

  Zoë approached, a plate in each hand. “You two will get so busy you won’t eat anything. So I made two plates. This one’s got the tea sandwiches, and this has the New Mexico specialties. Divvy them up however you like.”

  “Your sandwiches will be amazing,” Kelly said, reaching for that one.

  Sam snagged one of the chicken salad sandwich triangles and filled the empty space on Kelly’s plate with two of her taquitos. Ana and Hannah ran through the room, each with a sandwich in one hand and a carrot stick in the other. Kelly started to caution them to slow down, but they were out of the foyer and headed toward the back stairs before she found her voice.

  “Oh well. What kid isn’t super-charged on her birthday, right? I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to dive into that table full of gifts in the living room yet.”

  Sam glanced in that direction and saw several of the women had settled into the comfortable grouping of big chairs near the sunny west windows. Meanwhile, the men were still congregated around the dining table with its spread of food. Good. I won’t have to come up with much for dinner at home tonight.

  She saw that the sandwich platter was getting somewhat depleted and remembered Zoë had set extras on the kitchen counter. She left Kelly to answer a question from Riki and headed toward the kitchen. When she pushed through the swinging door she saw Danny standing near the sink, staring out the window.

  “Hey, Danny. Something I can help you find?”

  Startled, he turned to face her. “Oh. No, thanks.” A pensive look crossed his face. “Sam, I heard the guys say Beau used to be the sheriff here?”

  “Yeah. Up until four years ago. I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned that. Well, maybe not. He’s fully embracing the ranching life now.” She found Zoë’s second platter of sandwiches and busied herself removing the plastic wrap. “Why?”

  Danny’s feet shuffled. “I don’t know … Well, something came to mind.”

  “Something you want to talk about?”