Sticky Sweet Page 2

  She followed her beam down the single step, noticing dusty but beautiful, intricate parquet flooring. A granite-topped bar separated the den from a massive kitchen fitted out to please the pickiest chef. Sam tamped down a faint twinge of envy. She’d always either made do with whatever came with the places she lived or she’d outfitted her work kitchens in the most economical way. However, she thought as she looked at the gleaming appliances, with Book It Travel and the influx of business Mr. Bookman brought, I could afford to upgrade a bit.

  She put aside visions of a fancy kitchen remodel and quickly moved through the rooms. Ten minutes later, she’d made a list of necessary tasks for the house, relocked the front door, and was on her way west on Kit Carson Road. Now that the slush was turning to ice, traffic crept along north of the plaza. Sam bit back her impatience and stayed with the pace until she turned off the road and saw the golden lights of their ranch house.

  Nellie and Ranger greeted her at the front door, their eager breaths making clouds in the air. Already, the temperature had dropped into the teens and was forecast to go sub-zero by morning. She ruffled their fur and accepted doggie kisses on her gloved hands.

  Beau held the door open while Sam and the dogs tumbled inside. The scent of green chile stew filled the air.

  “Hey,” he said after bestowing a warming kiss. “Getting cold out, huh.”

  She peeled off her sheepskin coat, muffler, and gloves and touched a chilly hand to his neck. He tucked the hand against his flannel shirt and did the same with her other one.

  “Let’s get some of that nice, hot stew in us,” he said. “I put the tortillas in the oven awhile ago, so everything’s ready.”

  She noticed he’d already set out flatware and napkins on the dining table. They went into the kitchen, where the crockpot steamed with the scent of chile, tomatoes, meat, and hearty broth. Bowls sat beside it, and Beau dipped stew into them while Sam brought the tortilla warmer from the oven.

  “Roads are icing up already,” she said. “Was that the cause of the accident you got called out to?”

  “No,” he said, carrying the two bowls to the table. “Everything was just slushy at that point. We’re still investigating, and I had the victim’s body sent to the OMI for tox screening. According to the other driver, the guy was weaving all over the road. Said the white Mitsubishi grazed the side of his SUV then went off the road. It happened in the canyon south of town, and the car rolled. Driver wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, so he got thrown around.”

  “What a tragedy. Was it anyone we know?”

  He shook his head. “The fatality was a Percy Lukinger. New Mexico driver’s license, but it was only issued six months ago. Taos address. I’ve got Rico trying to track down next of kin. The other driver was Brian Reese. His dad is Clint Reese. I’ve known the family since Brian was a toddler. The kid’s only twenty-two, but he’s always been a responsible guy. He’s worked at the lumber yard since he was in high school.”

  “Was he hurt?” Sam dipped a spoon into the steaming stew and found it had cooled enough to take a bite.

  “Not a scratch, luckily. The damage to his Bronco is consistent with what he told me. He followed all the rules—steered to the right to avoid oncoming traffic, slowed his SUV gradually and got it off the roadway, came to a stop and called for help when he saw the other car had crashed. We won’t know for sure until the blood tests come back, but it sure looks to me like another of our famed drunk-driving cases. I’m just thankful the innocent party wasn’t hurt.”

  Beau had managed to put away his bowl of stew, and he headed toward the kitchen for more. When he came back, he changed the subject.

  “So, how was your afternoon? I called the bakery after I left the accident scene, in case you needed me to pick up something at the market on the way home. Jen said you left a little early because of a call from Delbert Crow?”

  “Well, not directly from him.” Sam went into the reason she’d stopped to check out the abandoned house on her way home. “It’s not far from Kelly’s—well, my old place. Couple blocks north of there and a little way east. It’s amazing the difference in the neighborhoods. My little two-bedroom could fit twice inside this other place. Bigger lots, old cottonwoods all around. Double the size of mine, and more than double the price, I’m sure. I met the neighbor—actually, his daughter—and the bit I could tell about his house is that it’s even larger. I made a list of what the job will entail for Sadie, but I’m kind of toying with the idea of doing the work for her.”

  “Sam …”

  “I know. I do not need another item on my to-do list, but I feel for Sadie. Now she’s got medical bills and will be faced with paying a maid service to do the cleanup. Those break-in jobs don’t pay a whole lot. Anyway, it would just be one of those little pay-it-forward things I could do for a friend.”

  “Well, you know how much you can handle. The chocolate factory’s running pretty efficiently on its own, right? But what about the bakery, with Becky on vacation?”

  She debated taking a second tortilla but pushed the basket aside. “I’ll think about the job before I commit.”

  Beau cleared the dishes and began to load the dishwasher while Sam went upstairs to switch her bakery clothes for a lightweight pair of sweats and comfy sweater. As she brushed her short hair, she caught sight of her jewelry box sitting on the bathroom vanity. She could always call upon a little supernatural help and get Sadie’s cleaning job out of the way quickly …

  The carved wooden box was attractive in its own homely way. Sitting there, the wood was dark brown and unevenly carved—not the work of a skilled craftsman and definitely not the modern product of laser-sharp machinery. Sam reached out and picked it up, running her hand over the lumpy surface. Almost immediately, the wood’s inner life began to rise and the surface became golden colored and warmed to her touch. Where the carved pattern formed X shapes, the red, green and blue stones mounted in the crevices glowed.

  Sam knew the longer she held it, the brighter the stones would sparkle and the wood would warm until it was nearly too hot to hang onto. It would also energize her body—in the past, she’d used its power to work all night at the bakery and to accomplish amazing tasks at her break-in houses. She set the box down quickly.

  Not tonight. She wanted a cozy evening at home and a normal bedtime where she would snuggle with her husband under thick comforters while the temperature dropped outside.

  Downstairs, Beau had stretched out in his recliner with a hunting magazine in hand. A steaming mug sat on the end table.

  Beau caught her glance. “Water’s hot but I wasn’t sure if you’d want tea or cocoa.” He started to get up but she waved him back to the chair.

  “I’ll get it—you relax.” She walked into the kitchen to the chime of a message coming on her phone. Sadie Holmes. She dialed while she reached for a packet of cocoa mix.

  “Sam, I don’t mean to be a pest,” Sadie began. “It’s just these calls from Delbert—”

  “Not a problem. I was going to touch base anyway and let you know that I stopped by the place. The good news is the owners actually moved their things out. The bad news is it’s a fairly big house—I’d say close to three thousand square feet. Four bedrooms, three baths, den, living room, dining, and a huge kitchen.”

  A tiny groan came from Sadie’s end of the line.

  “Look, why don’t you let me handle this one?” Sam asked. “There’s no way you need to be doing that much work, even if you could be up and about in time. And hiring a maid service really isn’t practical. There’s no electricity in the place. Maids aren’t going to have a portable generator—which I do—and, well, it’ll just be a lot simpler.”

  “Sam, I can’t ask—”

  “You didn’t ask. I offered. Now just lie back on your big pile of pillows and concentrate on getting well.”

  A sigh. “Sam, I can’t thank you enough for this. You know how Delbert can be … I’ve really been feeling the pr
essure.”

  “Well, now you can let go of the worry. When does he want the job completed?”

  “In typical Delbert fashion, he says it needs to be finished this weekend. Apparently the foreclosure has gone through and they want to get a For Sale sign up in the yard by Monday.”

  Sam gulped and sloshed the water she’d been pouring into her mug. Cocoa powder wafted onto the countertop. The arbitrary deadline gave her only a few days.

  “I know,” Sadie said. “It’s crazy and I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind.”

  “Don’t you worry about anything. I’ve got this. Get your rest and we’ll talk later. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

  She clicked off the call, cleaned up the cocoa spillage, and wondered when she was going to fit a two-day cleanup job into an already hectic schedule.

  Chapter 4

  Sam knew the answer before she’d even crawled into bed, but she spent a fitful night trying to work out alternatives. Magic couldn’t always be her go-to answer in a jam. But then, why not? She’d been given the box to help others. This was absolutely a case of helping someone.

  Somewhere around three a.m. Beau rolled over and draped his arm over her, pulling her close and making gentle shushing sounds, his way of getting her to settle down so they both could get some sleep. She let her body relax.

  When Beau got up at five to begin his day, Sam sat up and rubbed her eyes.

  “Can you help me with a little project before you leave?” she asked.

  Bundled into heavy sweatpants, flannel shirts and their warmest coats and gloves, they went outside. Ribbons of mist trailed across the face of the distant hills, barely visible in the early pre-dawn gray light. The thermometer on the front porch showed ten below zero. Sam watched her breath form tiny ice crystals.

  She started her pickup truck and backed it to the barn door. Together, she and Beau lifted the portable generator into the back, and he strapped it down tight with a couple of tie-downs. Sam set a vacuum cleaner in the back seat.

  “You really going to clean an empty house when it’s this cold?” He’d already headed toward the horse trough with an axe in hand to break through the layer of ice on top.

  Sam stomped her feet to warm them, wondering about the wisdom of her act of kindness. “Let me go see what the forecast is. I may put this off a day or so.”

  She couldn’t put it off very long, she knew. On the other hand, Delbert Crow could hardly fire her, and the real estate agent wouldn’t likely be showing houses anytime soon either. However, it didn’t mean Delbert couldn’t make Sadie’s life stressful in the meantime.

  She switched on the television in the living room and hurried to the kitchen to start the coffee machine. Normally, Beau fended well for himself in the mornings, letting her sleep a bit longer, but since she was already up she knew some eggs and toast would fortify both of them. By the time Beau came in after feeding the horses, she had breakfast ready.

  The weather forecast didn’t sound very cooperative. High for the day was to be a balmy twenty above zero. At least the clouds had moved out, leaving a classic New Mexico blue sky above the frigid air.

  “Promise me you won’t spend all day in that empty house if it has no heat,” Beau said as he headed for his cruiser. “You won’t do anyone any favors if you get sick.”

  Sam made the promise with confidence. She had no intention of spending all day there. After he drove away, she gathered her collection of brooms and mops, plus the crate of cleaning supplies and rags. Since she’d quit the USDA job more than a year ago her materials had become scattered between home and bakery, but she managed to round up enough of the basics. The last item she picked up was the carved box.

  Once everything was stashed in the truck, her first stop after leaving home was to go by the Victorian house she’d leased and converted to her chocolate factory last fall. Sweet’s Traditional Handmade Chocolates might be a lengthy greeting when answering the phone, but the name perfectly described their product. Their primary client, Stan Bookman, owner of Book It Travel, had been bowled over by Sam’s attention to detail and the handmade quality of the first box of chocolates he’d bought for his wife. He had immediately ordered Sam’s candy creations as the only chocolate served aboard his company’s charter jet flights, which catered to the ultra rich, then he’d gone on to include them at the upscale hotel and resort properties where their glamorous guests stayed.

  Now, he was talking about selling to cruise lines and entire hotel chains—Sam had to admit the scope of it frightened her a little, but she would decide how to handle it when the time came. She was realistic enough to know her contract with Bookman went on a year-by-year basis and somewhere during his world travels the man might find another treat to usurp hers. She might believe in certain kinds of magic, but Sam prided herself in keeping a level head and being a realist.

  She pulled into the employee parking area they’d created behind the old house, pleased to see nine cars. Despite the cold, everyone had showed up for work. She walked under the portico and entered at the kitchen side of the building.

  “Hey, Sam.” Benjie Lucero stood at the huge stainless steel worktable, rolling truffle mixture between his palms.

  Sam admired the way he worked quickly but paid attention and made certain each delectable bite of candy was uniform in size and shape. Beside him, two other chocolatiers worked, one tempering chocolate in a massive bowl and the other girl filling inch-square molds with dark, molten chocolate. At the stove, their newest employee stirred a new batch in a glass bowl over a copper pot of hot water.

  “Everything going okay here?” Sam asked, her eyes taking in the works-in-progress, her instinct noting that the work areas were filled but tidy.

  Benjie nodded, barely taking his eyes off the truffle ball in his hands. “Just fine. You might want to take a look at the furnace … or maybe it’s the propane supply? The place was pretty chilly when we got here this morning. It’s warm in here now, but that’s ’cause we’ve had the stove going for an hour or so.”

  Sam stepped into the first assembly room, where three workers, supervised by her first hire, Lisa Gurule, were inserting the finished chocolates into boxes. She noticed they all wore their coats and scarves.

  “Benjie mentioned the heat might not be working right,” Sam said. “You guys all look a little chilly.”

  Lisa nodded. “Yeah. There’s warm water running through the radiators, but it doesn’t seem to be having an effect.”

  “I’ll go check it right now.” She placed a hand on one of the old-fashioned metal registers. Lisa was right—it only felt lukewarm. Great.

  She knew next to nothing about the old boiler in the basement, only that a propane-fired burner heated water in the reservoir and a pump sent it circulating throughout the house via pipes and the metal radiators in each room. There were thermostats in four zones—two upstairs and two downstairs. Beyond that, she wasn’t sure what to check. She stared at the boiler for a few minutes but could see nothing amiss.

  The upstairs thermostats for Sam’s private office and three other rooms were set at sixty—conserving fuel since no one was actually working up there today. The downstairs units were both set at seventy, which should have provided a comfortable temperature. She had the unsettling thought that perhaps the old house had little or no insulation. All their heat could be seeping out the walls. But an inspection before she signed the lease hadn’t revealed any problems along those lines. She re-zipped her jacket and went outside to take a look at the five-hundred-gallon propane tank out back. It showed fifty-percent full. So, now what?

  Back indoors, she pulled out her phone and called the gas company. Could the gauge on the tank be broken? When was the last time they filled the tank?

  The woman at the other end gave a patient sigh. “It’s the extreme cold,” she said. “Your tank just can’t deliver enough pressure. It should get better once the temperature outside warms above zero.”r />
  Sam got the feeling the lady had repeated those words a few hundred times already this morning. She thanked her, gathered her employees, and reassured them.

  “If you can, keep working with your coats on. I promise the situation will get better. If it’s too much to handle or if you feel that you’ll get sick from being chilled, by all means, go on home. I’d rather have you miss part of a day now than to be working around the candy if you’re sick. We can’t have that.”

  One of the newer girls said she felt she’d better go home. Everyone else said they would be all right and would stay.

  Semi-crisis, semi-averted, Sam thought as she went out to her truck. At least the building had some heat, and as the outdoor temperature rose the heating system would become more efficient. She debated whether to push on with the cleaning job today or hope for better conditions tomorrow.

  What am I thinking? That house wouldn’t warm up on its own until it was seventy degrees outside, and that wouldn’t happen until May or June. Get moving and just get it done, Samantha. As her mother would have said.

  The wooden box sat on the passenger seat beside her. Sam slipped her gloves off and picked it up. The cold surface began to warm immediately. As soon as her hands were toasty warm, she set the box in her lap, put her gloves back on, and started the truck.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was making her way down Wicket Lane. The neighbor’s minivan was gone, but a dark blue Ford pickup truck sat in the driveway. It was a super deluxe model, complete with every chrome accessory a person could tack onto the thing. Spotlessly clean, obviously it had not been driven on the local roads in the past couple of days. The garage door was in the process of sliding down and Sam caught a glimpse of another vehicle parked inside.