Sweet Somethings (Samantha Sweet Mysteries)

by Connie Shelton

  She’d boxed about half of the chocolates when the familiar roar of a truck sounded outside the door and the brown-uniformed UPS guy peered in.

  “Several big cartons for you, Sam. Where shall I put them?”

  Big cartons? She hadn’t ordered anything recently.

  “I better take a look,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel and following him out to the alley.

  At the back of his big, square truck sat three boxes that were taller than she, all with the Qualitätsschokolade logo. What on earth—?

  The driver was looking at her expectantly.

  “Uh, wow . . .” There was no way they would fit inside the bakery without being in everyone’s way. Her own booth tables and display cases were already taking a huge amount of space. The barn at home came to mind. But without dismantling the shelving inside her bakery van she couldn’t use it to transport them. She would have to go home for her pickup truck. She chewed at her lip for a moment.

  “I guess just leave them here in the alley for now, right by my door. I’ll think of something.” Something that didn’t involve curious thieves or an overeager garbage truck driver.

  “For their size, they aren’t too heavy,” said the driver as he manipulated a hand truck under the edge of one. The carton threatened to tip as he struggled to wheel it. “Just bulky.”

  Sam signed for the delivery then pulled out her phone and dialed Beau.

  “Where are you right now?” she asked.

  “At my desk, catching up on department paperwork.”

  “Want a break from it?” She explained her dilemma. “I can run home and get the truck myself, but I’ll still need help maneuvering these things.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll drive home and get your truck, bring it back and help you.”

  “Really, I didn’t mean for you to take that much time . . .”

  “It’ll give me the chance to take a peek at what’s going on out that direction, see how many more buses and vans have shown up.”

  She hung up, hoping he wouldn’t become too distracted before they could get these boxes out of the alley. Meanwhile, Becky needed worktable space for a large multi-tiered cake so Sam rushed back inside to get the rest of the molded chocolates put away.

  Beau’s expression seemed a little grim when he pulled up forty-five minutes later. He gripped one of the large cartons and practically flung it into the bed of Sam’s truck.

  “Wait, Beau! You’ll strain something lifting like that.” She rushed to his side and together they picked up the next one.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, feeling slightly winded after keeping up with his long strides.

  “Nothing, I hope. But there’s a steady stream of old vans, beater cars and other junk vehicles traveling the road toward our place. There must be well over a hundred camping out on Mulvane’s property by now.”

  Oh boy.

  They placed the third big carton into the truck and she climbed into the passenger seat. He drove carefully through the back streets of town, keeping an eye on the bulky boxes. When they came to the red light at Camino de la Placita, they counted twelve more vehicles that clearly belonged to the hippie enclave.

  “And this isn’t counting the ones driving in from other directions, coming out of Colorado and across the western part of the state.”

  She could see why he wasn’t terribly happy about the visitors. “Did old man Mulvane know there would be so many?”

  “I have no idea. My guess is that the lure of their money overshadowed any details he should have asked for.”

  “So, is there some way to overturn that contract he signed?”

  “Well, the process would involve getting a restraining order or a stay against them, while we try to prove that Mr. Mulvane wasn’t competent to enter such an agreement. I would have to give some proof of why he might be considered incompetent. Best I could hope for would be a sympathetic judge who might put them off for awhile.”

  They had joined the slow-moving line of traffic now. It really was sounding complicated.

  “In Colorado, the neighbors had no luck in overturning the contract last year. The Flower People most likely will be gone before we could complete the process.”

  “Maybe they’ll only stay through the weekend.” She worked toward a hopeful tone but remembered that he’d said these guys often remained for months. It wasn’t looking like a great start to the summer.

  At their turnoff, Sam noticed that he’d left his department cruiser parked near the road, in plain view of the passing traffic. It was probably one reason the line of cars moved along at a crawl. He drove the truck up the driveway and past the house, backing up to the double-wide barn doors where they both hopped out and quickly stashed the boxes against the front of an unused horse stall.

  “What’s in these things anyway?” he asked as they set the last one down.

  “I have no idea. I guess I should ask Rupert. He’s the one who made the deal with this Swiss chocolate company to sponsor the festival.”

  “My guess,” Rupert said when she called him on the way back to her shop, “it’s probably their display materials. I can come over and help you unpack it. Ooh—it’ll be like Christmas!”

  Sam glanced at her dashboard clock. She actually could turn around and get back home pretty quickly, but Carinda would be showing up at the shop within the hour. She told Rupert they better get to the boxes later in the afternoon.

  She and Becky were in the middle of checking inventory for the festival—there were more than a dozen boxes filled with brownies, cookies, filled croissants and cupcakes. She also planned on having her secret recipe amaretto cheesecake for sale by the slice and a couple of the deep chocolate Kahlua cakes. The task now was to count everything and be sure the supplies were adequate.

  Tomorrow, while Sam set up the venue and directed the other vendors as they arrived on site, Becky and Julio would continue to bake whatever items might run low. If the first day was a sellout, both of her bakers had committed to work Saturday to assure more stock for the final day.

  “That’s the plan,” she told Becky after reciting it all.

  “And you know what they say about the best laid plans.” Becky grinned as she carried two boxes of brownies back to the fridge.

  “Sam?” Jen had walked up behind her and Sam jumped when her assistant touched her shoulder. “That Carinda Carter is here.”

  Sam braced herself. She needed to be firm with Carinda about her duties but she also remembered how easily the woman’s feelings had been hurt at the last committee meeting. She walked into the showroom to find Carinda facing her, birdlike legs in a firm stance, skinny arms planted on her almost non-existent hips.

  “You have something to say to me?” Carinda demanded.

  Chapter 7

  “Excuse me?” Sam said.

  “You have a lot of nerve, lecturing me.” Carinda came forward, shaking her index finger at Sam.

  Sam glanced toward Jen, who stood frozen behind the register. A customer who had been browsing the cookie selection edged toward the front of the room.

  “Carinda, how about if we discuss this outside? A little stroll might help.”

  Sam walked to the front door and held it open, ready to step out and leave Carinda talking to the walls unless she followed. Leading the way past the front of Puppy Chic, Sam started out with the gentle tone she’d planned to use.

  “Carinda, I want you to know that we all appreciate—”

  “Like hell! No one has cared one bit for all the work I put in. I had those booth spaces lined up perfectly—then I find out you redid all my work according to some other plan that didn’t even exist!”

  “Carinda—”

  “I have to do everything for this festival and then you come along and—”

  Sam stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Wait just a minute. It was never your assignment to allocate the booth spaces. I’m not saying that you couldn’t have done it, but you didn’t have the vendor ap
plications and didn’t know what each of them needed.”

  “And what about distributing the posters all over town? That was another of my jobs that someone else took over. I tell you, I’m mad as hell over this!” She spun toward Sam. “And then you dared to hang up on me.”

  Sam felt the sting of that—she had done so.

  “Sorry. Can’t we just—”

  “I’m not putting up with it. I don’t need any of you people. I might as well just—” Her eyes were wild and she made a hacking motion with her hand.

  “Carinda, settle down. That’s crazy talk.” Sam reached to touch her shoulder but the woman jerked back and ran toward her car.

  “Crazy? You think I’m crazy?” She yanked open the car door and slid in, starting the engine and putting the car in gear immediately. “Well, you are a controlling bitch!” she shouted through her open window.

  Sam stood frozen to the spot. Crazy? That would probably be a yes.

  “Sam? What’s going on?” Riki had stepped out of her grooming shop with a tiny Maltese cradled in her arms, just in time to hear the chirp of Carinda’s tires and the honk of another driver’s horn when she reached the street.

  “I have no idea.”

  Riki shrugged and gave the fluffy white dog a tickle on its head before going back inside.

  Why did I go for the bait? Sam chided herself on the way back to Sweet’s Sweets. I knew the lady was a little off balance; why didn’t I pacify her?

  Because maybe everyone has always pacified her and that’s how she gets away with these temper tantrums. Or, she’s having raging PMS?

  Another car had pulled up in front of the bakery and a woman with two kids got out. Sam held the door, then followed them inside where she sent Jen a half smile and continued to the back.

  “Trouble?” Becky asked, looking up from a tray of chocolate nut drop cookies.

  “I really hope our voices didn’t carry all the way in here.”

  “Only a comment or two when your visitor first arrived.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. Four more days and she would never have to speak to Carinda Carter again. The image of that slashing motion came back to her—could Carinda be suicidal? Maybe she shouldn’t be so flippant about this. She supposed one never knew with someone whose moods swung as wildly as this woman’s. Maybe she could learn something more about Carinda’s state of mind from Rupert when they met to unpack the boxes in the barn.

  Sam couldn’t get Carinda’s freaky mood swings out of her mind as she finished checking her festival inventory, gave a glance at her desk and informed the others that she would make a couple of deliveries and would be at home after that.

  She phoned Rupert as she was leaving the home of a baby shower hostess, where a cupcake tree featuring two dozen pink booties was now ready for a party. He agreed to be out at the ranch in twenty minutes.

  “Never saw the woman before that first committee meeting,” Rupert said when she brought up Carinda’s odd behavior.

  Sam unlocked the barn and swung the big door open. Late afternoon shadows made the place a little gloomy but high windows at each end gave enough light for their purposes.

  “I was under the impression she knew Sarah Williams or that somebody else at the Chamber of Commerce had talked her into volunteering,” he said as Sam showed him inside.

  The mention of Sarah’s name reminded Sam that a couple of days had passed in a blur and she’d heard nothing new from Marc Williams. She should give him a call this evening.

  “Whoa, look at this!” Rupert had slit open one of the tall, flat boxes and he now peeled back the top to reveal an elegantly printed panel with the Qualitätsschokolade logo overlaid across a superb hi-def photo showing bricks of chocolate.

  Together they lifted the panel to reveal another. The other flat box contained two more. The set of four were designed to snap together for a booth backdrop.

  “They told me they would send some colorful advertising materials. This will be perfect in the dais area you set aside for the judging, Sam. I can see our celebrity judges sitting in front of this beauty.”

  Sam had slit the tape on a large cube-shaped box. Cloth banners of the same royal blue used in the corporate logo would drape elegantly above the scrumptious photos.

  “Look.” She held out a roll of stickers, small enough to go on vendor badges and to be given out to kids who roamed the festival. “And . . . goodie bags for the vendors! What a great idea, including recipe ideas using their various chocolates. Everyone will love these.”

  Rupert was poking around in the box, like a kid with his Christmas stocking. “Chocolate truffles,” he said. “I recognize these; they’re one of the more exclusive Swiss brands. There’s a huge box of them. We can give them out to everyone who stops by the judging stand.”

  “And these . . .” Sam held up gift-bagged mugs with packets of hot chocolate mix. “. . . these will make great door prizes. People hang around longer if they might win a prize. Rupert, this is so cool. How can I ever thank you enough for finding this sponsor?”

  He actually looked a little bit humble. “Well, you are letting me do some sneaky promotion for my secret nom de plume.”

  “Speaking of promotion, I’m making you and Bentley the MCs of this deal. You work out the timing for prize drawings and coordinate the tastings so the judges get around to all the entries.”

  Sam thought again of Sarah, sad that she wasn’t here to enjoy the festivities. After all, she’d been the one to start the ball rolling for the festival in the first place.

  Rupert had stacked the photo panels neatly so they would fit in the back of Sam’s pickup when it came time to take them to the hotel ballroom.

  “I can take the prizes and other small items with me now,” he offered. “If you want some of these things out of your hair.”

  “Anything. Take any and all of it that you wish.” See, Carinda? I’m not a controlling bitch.

  Carinda really had gotten to her this afternoon. Sam wanted to drop it but couldn’t let go of that image of the rail-thin woman stomping back to her car, throwing insults as she went. The woman was over-the-top batty, and the sooner this whole event was over, the better.

  Beau pulled into the long driveway just as Rupert was driving out. He walked over to the open barn door and Sam showed him the display materials they had just unboxed.

  “Pretty amazing, huh? I think our little festival is taking on a really professional tone.”

  He nodded with a grunt.

  “Beau?”

  “Grr. It’s Mulvane. Now he’s calling my department, a little worried that so many of the Flower People are showing up. It’s getting out of hand, he says, and he wants me to supply a security detail.”

  “Can you even do that?” She watched as he swung the barn door into place and latched it.

  “I pointed out to him that no one is breaking the law, and that it was only a few days ago he was chasing me off his land, saying he had the right to do whatever he wanted. I told him to call a private security firm if he wanted to.”

  “And?”

  “Well, now it comes out that the earth children only gave him five hundred dollars, with a promise of more before they go. He can’t afford much in the way of hired security for that.”

  They walked to the house, where Sam pulled two beer bottles from the fridge.

  “It’s always this way,” he said, taking his. “People get themselves in trouble and then expect public resources to bail them out. The fool who tried to parachute off the gorge bridge awhile back, got his lines twisted, and State Police had to get a helicopter out there and a rescue team to pull him back. All those out-of-shape hikers each year who start up the mountain wearing sneakers and then need Search and Rescue to come after them when they’ve slid off a rock and broken their legs. They’re lucky if they don’t die but do they ever pay for those services? No.”

  “Do you think Mr. Mulvane is genuinely afraid of the hippies?”

  “Nah. I think one or tw
o of them may have mouthed off to him, but generally they seem to be of the ‘peace and love’ set. His wife may have gotten pretty offended when she observed a trio doing the ‘love’ part of it behind one of the buses in full daylight. I think that’s what’s behind this sudden desire to have some uniforms around.”

  “So, what’s your plan?”

  “I’ll go out there in the morning and talk to them, just let them know that there are eyes everywhere and that we expect everything to stay quiet and legal.”

  “Let’s hope. Meanwhile, since we’re both in for the evening, how about if we grill some burgers?”

  He gave her a kiss, thanked her for being the voice of reason, and went outside to light the grill. Sam went to the fridge and pulled out lettuce and tomatoes, the ground beef and some onion rolls she’d bought a few days ago. She worked automatically, assembling the meal, but Carinda Carter’s parting words kept nagging at her. Tomorrow, she would see Carinda as they set up the ballroom for the festival. Not looking forward to that.

  She fell asleep by telling herself that nothing on her crowded agenda could be accomplished in the middle of the night and that she would awaken in the morning with renewed energy to deal with it all. Good in theory, but she woke up at three-thirty and nothing would make those eyes close again. She tiptoed around the bedroom and bathroom, getting dressed as quietly as possible, and left Beau snoring peacefully.

  By the time she arrived at the Bella Vista at nine o’clock she had already spent nearly five hours at Sweet’s Sweets where she had baked another four-dozen brownies for her booth and while they were in the oven she’d decorated one of this weekend’s wedding cakes. She drove past the hotel’s elegant entrance and parked in the same lot as before, noting that Rupert’s vehicle was the only one she recognized.

  Sure enough, the big man was there in what he would consider work clothes—soft grey cashmere pants and a breezy purple tunic. His silver hair flowed straight back from his forehead to his shirt collar, with teeth marks from his comb, although those would go away as soon as it fully dried.