Sweet Magic

by Connie Shelton

  Sweet Magic

  Samantha Sweet Mysteries, Book 13

  By Connie Shelton

  For Dan, Daisy and Missy—my pack

  My fantastic editing team—Susan Slater, Shirley Shaw, and Stephanie Dewey—each of you has suggested things that help me see something new in my writing. Beta readers Christine, Judi, Sandra—you ladies are so good at this!

  And especially to you, my readers—I cherish our connection through these stories.

  Thank you, everyone!

  “The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”

  –W. B. Yeats

  Chapter 1

  The bride looked lovely in her white gown, a simple sheath which barely touched the toes of her hiking boots. Kelly Sweet lifted her skirt thigh high to keep it from grazing the carpet of pine needles on the pathway.

  “Mom, do you have the day pack with my sandals and makeup?”

  Samantha puffed a little at the 9,000-foot altitude, taking an extra deep breath before she answered. “Don’t worry about it. Zoë has it and she’s five minutes behind us.”

  “Did I remember to put my hair clips in it?”

  “I’m sure you did, Kel. Got my hands a little full at the moment.” Sam instantly regretted her abrupt tone, even though toting a two-tier cake up a trail frazzled her nerves a bit. She felt sure this wasn’t what the Forest Service had in mind when they rated this trail ‘easy.’

  With the wedding taking place at a lovely but remote mountain clearing, her bakery sales off the charts this month, and her biggest client showing up yesterday with a complicated new contract she’d not had a moment to study, she’d awakened this morning with a somewhat short fuse. Her husband, Sheriff Beau Cardwell, had, of course, received an emergency call at five a.m. but he’d assured Sam he would be at Pine Ridge Point in plenty of time for the noon ceremony.

  Kelly and Scott had reserved the picnic area weeks ago and even persuaded a couple of their friends to spend the night up here to be sure no one else encroached. Kelly wanted to arrive early to ensure her veil was in place, her makeup perfect, and her wild cinnamon-colored curls somewhat tamed. Her large cast of friends was here to be sure the flower-covered arch was in place, the cake and serving pieces set up, and the clearing was reasonably free of elk droppings. This last request was never a certainty anywhere in the forest.

  The walk from the parking area wasn’t long, scarcely over a quarter mile, but the idyllic setting would make people believe they were miles from any form of civilization. Guests had been charged with bringing their own folding chairs, and an assortment of small tables had been carted up the day before. Attire was informal for everyone but the bride and groom—Kelly had insisted they go traditional white for her and a tux for Scott. Her professor fiancé normally sported jeans, a turtleneck, and blazer but he was so obviously head-over-heels for Kelly that he willingly went along with all her suggestions for the wedding ceremony and reception.

  Sam spotted the scenic clearing ahead and breathed a sigh of relief. The young couple’s friends had been hard at work, and the setting was gorgeous. Tall, fragrant Ponderosa pines and a scattering of white-trunked aspens ringed a grassy clearing (mercifully free of animal evidence). The willow arch had been placed where the couple would stand and was now intertwined with bold yellow and purple wildflowers. A table was ready for the cake and Sam headed there immediately.

  Riki Davis-Jones, Kelly’s best friend and her employer, was waiting to lend a hand and together they removed the cake from its protective box.

  “Funny, they don’t seem to weigh this much when I carry them from the bakery kitchen out to my delivery van,” Sam said with a chuckle.

  “You should have asked Evan or one of the others to carry it,” Riki said. “You know anyone would have been happy to assist.”

  “Evan and Beau both offered but I wasn’t sure how soon they’d get here,” Sam told her. “I’m such a mother hen about my cakes, especially the one for my own daughter’s wedding. Can you imagine if it had gotten messed up?”

  Riki rolled her eyes. “Oh—hell to pay, pure hell.”

  “As it is, I brought my emergency kit.” Sam slipped the small pack off her shoulders and unzipped it to reveal an ice pack, a plastic box with several extra buttercream flowers, and a pastry bag filled with icing to match the cake’s soft ivory coating. She automatically went into critique mode, checking the cake from all angles, piping a couple of the tiny frosting pin-dots that had been smashed.

  Riki spotted her fiancé, Deputy Evan Richards, coming up the trail along with Beau and two others from their office, and headed toward them. The morning’s emergency must have been resolved, Sam thought with delight. No matter how strongly a law enforcement man assures you he’ll be there, she’d learned not to count on it until she actually saw him. She stowed her decorating supplies and set the pack in a cool spot under the table.

  Behind a temporary canvas screen—partially a place to hide the park’s latrines, and today a spot from which the bride could make her entrance—Sam saw Kelly fidgeting. She had spread a blanket to stand on after removing her hiking boots, and now she was nervously glancing toward the trail.

  Luckily, Sam’s best friend Zoë appeared nearly at the same moment. She had slung the bag of accessories and beauty products Kelly wanted over her shoulder, freeing her hands to grip a plastic crate of catering supplies. Weighing in at a solid one-hundred pounds, Zoë never asked her recruits—in this case her husband Darryl, plus Beau and all his deputies—to carry anything she wouldn’t tackle herself. Bless her, Sam thought, coming all the way up here to do the reception food. She would have never let Kelly ask it of her friend; the reception could have taken place back in town at Zoë and Darryl’s B&B. But Zoë had volunteered and, in fact, seemed excited about the beautiful setting and the gathering of close friends. Even now, under a load, a bright smile lit her face when she spotted Sam and Kelly.

  Zoë handed off the plastic crate and shed the tote bag so Kelly could finish getting ready. Sam was amazed to see how, with a few quick orders, Zoë quickly had the covered trays of hot barbequed beef, corn on the cob, potato salad, and coleslaw delivered and arranged on the serving table. A massive plastic container of watermelon wedges sat at the end and, of course, there would be wedding cake for dessert.

  The minister from Zoë’s church, a rather informal group of hippies and mountain men who espoused a curious mixture of the Ten Commandments, Eastern philosophy and flower-child worship practices, arrived right on time. Her long hair sported many rows of tiny braids with flower stems interwoven. She raised her face to the sky and declared this to be the perfect day for a wedding.

  At that, everyone began to notice the groom didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. From her makeshift ‘dressing room’ Kelly peered around the corner. About the time Sam began to feel a flutter of anxiety, she heard voices from below. Coming up the trail was her client, Stan Bookman, owner of Book It Travel, accompanied by Scott Porter.

  How those two had timed it to arrive together, Sam had no idea—probably coincidence. Scott’s gaze darted around, looking for Kelly, while Bookman headed straight for Sam.

  “Any chance to look at the new contract yet?” he asked, after the merest of greetings.

  “It’s been a little busy, Stan,” she said, really trying not to let her feelings of impatience creep into her voice. “I’m taking tomorrow to stay home and catch up on things, once the kids are away on their honeymoon.”

  “Oh? Where are they going?” he asked. “Someplace exciting? I hear Scott’s a history professor. Not taking her off to an archaeological dig or anything is he?”

  Sam laughed. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. They’re going very informal with it—as you can
tell by the wedding, it’s their style. Just a drive up through the Rockies—Colorado, Wyoming. He’s got several weeks off from the university so they’ll take their time.”

  A thoughtful look crossed Stan’s face and it seemed he was about to say something, but the minister—Lily Fairchild was her name—called them all to take their seats. One of Scott’s students, an accomplished guitarist, struck the opening chords of Pachelbel’s Canon in D major, and the group quickly settled and became quiet. Sam immediately looked for Beau and steered him to the only two empty seats near the front. She really didn’t want to sit near Stan Bookman and have him start talking business. The man never seemed to take a break from it.

  Scott stood at the front with Lily, looking so handsome in his tux with his beard neatly trimmed and sandy brown hair mussed just the way Kelly liked it. When the music transitioned into the wedding march and Kelly stepped forward onto the impromptu aisle the chairs had formed, his eyes glowed with love for her. Sam felt her throat tighten with emotion. Beau gently took her hand.

  With a minimum of formality but heartfelt words about love and partnerships, Lily read some beautiful poems from Rumi. Behind her, Sam could hear Zoë sniffing discreetly, while across the way tears were flowing down Riki’s cheeks, although she had a smile on her face. Kelly and Scott read beautiful vows they’d each written—Sam had no idea her daughter had such a way with prose—exchanged rings, and were pronounced married. Cameras snapped and Sam hastily dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

  The newlyweds walked among their friends, beaming hugely. Sam saw Zoë and her kitchen helper rush to the food tables to check the Sterno heat under the serving pans. Somewhere in the background several champagne corks popped.

  “Introduce me to your daughter,” Stan Bookman said, appearing at Sam’s elbow. “I have a little gift for them.”

  “Um, okay.” She was surprised he’d come to the ceremony, despite the fact that she had invited him when he showed up unannounced at her bakery yesterday. But a gift? She started to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but his attention had wandered to the group standing around Kelly and Scott.

  They held back a couple of minutes until the bridal couple was nearly alone, then Bookman approached and Sam introduced him. “I understand, from our little walk up the hill here, that your new husband is a history buff,” he said.

  “It’s way more than a passing interest,” Kelly said with a laugh. “He teaches by day and haunts the library and internet by night.”

  “I hope you don’t think it presumptuous of me,” Bookman said, “and feel free to say no if this interferes with your existing plans …”

  What was he getting at? Sam wondered.

  “Your mother may have told you that we fly private charters all over the world, and well … I’m taking off tomorrow morning for England. If you’d be interested, and if it’s possible to change your existing plans, I can offer you a visit to a town with a fascinating history.”

  Kelly looked puzzled. Scott’s attention seemed riveted. Sam wondered what Bookman was up to.

  “I’d planned some time in this little Suffolk town called Bury St. Edmunds, and now it turns out I won’t be able to stay. My wife and daughter were to join me but their plans have also changed, and the house will go unused. I need to be there two days, at most, to transact a little business with a local travel agency, but after that …”

  Scott piped up. “Bury St. Edmunds? The town where Mary Tudor was buried? My lord! I’ve heard of the abbey and the old ruins …” He turned to Kelly. “Honey, this is a place I’ve always been fascinated with. Would you—?”

  “Give up a drive through Colorado to go there? Absolutely!” Her eyes were alight now too.

  “Can we get tickets on such short notice?” Scott asked, wondering aloud.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t make myself clear enough,” said Stan with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m offering to have you ride along with me on one of our private corporate jets. We’ll fly into London and my driver will take us up. It’s a couple of hours northeast of London. Near Cambridge—you might enjoy that as a side trip during your stay. I can leave the car and driver at your disposal.”

  “Are you sure? This sounds like a very expensive—” Kelly’s fingers were mangling the stems of her bouquet.

  “The only part that costs me a thing out of pocket will be the nights I’ll book for you at the Angel Hotel, and that’s a very minimal—”

  “The Angel Hotel! Charles Dickens stayed there,” Scott inserted.

  “The very same. I’ll put you up there for the couple of nights I need to stay in town, then the house is all yours. Stay as long as you like, and one of our planes will certainly be able to bring you back.”

  “I—wow—I’m not sure what to say,” Kelly stammered.

  “Say yes,” Bookman said. “One or two phone calls from my end will get it arranged.”

  “And I can easily cancel our first night’s reservation in Durango,” Scott said. His face reminded Sam of the little kid who’d just thought of a way to scrounge a penny for the gumball machine.

  Kelly smiled at her husband’s enthusiasm. “You’re right, we only reserved one night. The rest of the trip was going to be purely impromptu.” She turned to face Bookman. “So, yes. The answer’s yes!”

  Scott reached out and shook their benefactor’s hand enthusiastically. “Sir—thank you! This is the best gift ever.”

  Sam watched with mixed feelings. She was happy for the fantastic windfall trip Kelly and Scott had received, but Bookman’s rich-man way of pushing his agenda through reminded her a little too vividly of her own experiences with him. It might be wise for her to get a private word with her daughter before it was too late.

  Chapter 2

  Sam never did figure out a way to handle the ‘private word’ with Kelly. The rest of the afternoon mountain reception had gone by in a blur of friends and food, while music played from someone’s portable speakers. Stan Bookman was the picture of generosity as he saw how happy his gift had made the couple, and Sam couldn’t bring herself to rain on Kelly’s bubbly cheer as their friends danced in the grassy clearing.

  When a late-afternoon thunderstorm began to build, everyone grabbed decorations, leftovers, and utensils and headed for their cars. The newlyweds had been deliberately secretive about where they would spend their wedding night, hoping to avoid pranks by their friends and students. Sam could only give Kelly a quick hug as the first raindrops began to fall and assure her daughter that she and Beau would drive them to the Taos airport to see them off on their adventure in the morning. Kelly had suggested breakfast together, the four of them—a little time together before the big trip.

  Now, the young couple were grinning as they watched their private jet taxi to a stop. Stan Bookman arrived at the same moment in a black Suburban with darkened windows. He and his driver each opened one of the back doors and out stepped a couple wearing expensive ripped jeans and pricey leather jackets which had been buffed to shabby perfection.

  “Oh my god, do you know who that is?” Kelly whispered to her mother.

  Sam shook her head. She still didn’t know, even after Kelly gave their names. A pop singer and her tennis pro husband. They walked across the tarmac and up the steps to the plane.

  Stan walked over, beaming at Sam. “Now don’t forget to get that contract back to my office. I’ll be back there on Thursday, and we’ll set up some meetings with the cruise line food management.”

  She nodded.

  “Kelly and Scott, I hope you don’t mind the extra passengers. They made a last-minute itinerary change—something we deal with all the time in the travel industry. Koko said they’re exhausted and will probably do nothing but sleep during the flight. Shouldn’t affect your plans at all.”

  Kelly did her best to act as if rubbing elbows with stars happened all the time. She had, after all, once bathed two of Julia Roberts’s dogs.

  A fuel truck had pulled alongside the jet and now appeared to be finished
. Two crew members had wheeled the luggage away.

  “Well,” said Stan, “I guess we’re ready to be off.” He headed for the steps, giving the others a moment to say goodbye.

  Beau and Scott shook hands, but Kelly and Sam unabashedly held each other and choked back tears.

  “You guys have a wonderful time, take lots of pictures, and be ready to tell us all about the place,” Sam said, with a faint tinge of jealousy. She had loved her trip to Ireland and only wished she could visit England as well.

  “Heck, we’ll share it right away,” Kelly told her. “Facetime works over there too.”

  Beau put his arm around Sam’s shoulders as they watched the young couple board the plane. The steps retracted and immediately the pilot turned the aircraft to face the long runway.

  “Well, there they go,” he said. They had stepped into the shelter of the airport’s tiny terminal building to avoid the blast of air from the jet engines.

  “Hard to believe she’s a married woman now,” Sam said. “I suppose every mother says that. It wasn’t too many years ago she showed up on my doorstep with no job and nowhere to live, and I didn’t believe she would ever turn into a responsible adult.”

  “So there—it happened. They make a good pair. Like you and me.” He bent to kiss her before they headed out to his SUV.

  The summer day was rapidly becoming warmer, with clouds building over nearby Taos Mountain. The blue sage which covered so much of the high desert landscape on the outskirts of town gave off its distinctive herbal scent, and Sam noticed yellow sunflowers had already begun to bloom along the roadside. Autumn would be here in another six weeks.

  “So, home or bakery or chocolate factory?” Beau asked as they made the turn.

  “Home. I left Bookman’s contract on the dining table and I need some peace and quiet to read and digest it. The thing looks formidable.” Even as she said so, she realized she should also have her attorney read the document.