Chapter 9

 

Sam piped black cats on four dozen sugar cookies and added them to the tray of jack-o-lanterns and ghosts to go out front in the display case. School would be out in twenty minutes and the local kids loved to run by the bakery and get a cookie to munch on the way home. At the other end of the worktable Becky was setting the topper on a wedding cake.

For the moment, the workload felt routine and under control but another large batch of chocolates was on schedule for the first of next week, a fact which was never far from Sam’s mind. Last night’s dinner and discussion with Darryl about the cost of a new facility weighed heavily. His sketches had helped her to think big, to visualize the future, to see Sweet’s Sweets as more than a small neighborhood pastry shop. With the need for space so urgent right now, it was tempting to leap in and risk several hundred thousand to expand her business.

Nearly a half-million dollars. The size of a loan like that scared the bejeezus out of her.

“What do you think?” Becky asked.

Sam was about to admit her money worries until she saw Becky was pointing at the cake she’d just finished. It was for a couple whose joy in life was horticulture and Sam had turned her assistant loose with the design. Becky had created delicate orchids from sugar paste and painted them with tiny dots, mimicking some photographs she’d collected. The three tiers of purple flowers against a sunny yellow background were spectacular.

“It’s fantastic,” Sam said. “They will love it.”

“I’ll get it into the walk-in. It doesn’t get delivered until tomorrow.”

Sam’s phone rang as she slid the cookie tray into the display case in the sales room. The bistro tables were filled with the afternoon crowd who loved Sam’s signature blend coffee to go with a slice of amaretto cheesecake. She smiled toward the customers and walked back to the kitchen to take the call from Beau.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“I’m on the way back now.” He talked above engine noise in the background with his phone on speaker. “Interviews in Springer went fine, then Sheriff Beason and I compared notes over lunch. Both guards had pretty much the same story. One of them got a better look at the robbers than the other, but the men all wore masks. I don’t know … this one won’t be a slam dunk. The armored car company is going to publicly offer a reward for information and return of the missing money. That might pull some leads our way.” He cleared his throat. “How about you? Still upset over the conversation with Darryl last night?”

“Well, I won’t say I was really upset. At least not with him.”

“You sure were restless all night for someone not upset.”

“Okay, so I’m a little discouraged about it. I’d love to take the business to that level, but I don’t have even a fraction of the cash it would take and you know how I feel about borrowing.”

“Especially on that scale—I can’t disagree with you darlin’. Oops, hang on. Another call’s coming in.”

The background sounds went blank for nearly a full minute and Sam began to wonder if she’d lost the call.

“Okay, I’m back,” Beau said. “That was Rico. We may have just caught a break in the case. Somebody found the stolen bank bags at a picnic area, one of those places in the canyon. He’s interviewed the picnickers and wants me to come by the office before I go home for the day.”

They ended the call with Sam wishing him luck that the new evidence would be exactly the lead the department needed. She’d hardly returned the phone to her pocket when it rang again.

“Hey there,” Zoë said when Sam answered. “I hope you’re doing all right today. You guys left kind of quickly last night. Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Really just had a lot to wrap my head around. And I’m afraid I still don’t quite know what to tell Darryl. I loved the plans but—”

“He’s had some other ideas for you. Got a second to talk to him?”

Before Sam could respond, Zoë had handed the phone over.

“Sam, hey. I hope I didn’t upset you last night? I want you to be honest about the plans. Were they not what you had in mind? Because I don’t want you to worry about hurting my feelings or anything like that. We’ve been friends way too long for that.”

It had been a concern, dealing with a friend and ending up with hard feelings over the project.

“Just wanted you to understand that the sketches I did were aimed at a “dream world” scenario. Another possibility is that we look around for an existing space you can either buy real cheap or lease for a year.”

Cheap real estate in Taos simply did not exist—Sam already knew that. But a lease could be a good idea. She’d have a place to go right away and still have the option of quitting or staying once she had a better feel for how the business might continue with Stan Bookman.

“I was able to help you renovate your existing space,” Darryl reminded. “I’d be happy to do the same with a new one.”

“I like it,” Sam said, feeling a wave of relief. “Let’s go on that basis. I don’t know when I’ll find the time, but maybe if I put all my friends on the search we’ll come up with the absolutely perfect spot.”

“Okay, then. Look around, find a location you like, and give me a call when you’re ready.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he said goodbye.

Yeah, just cruise around town looking for empty space to accommodate a chocolate factory. Where was this spare time going to come from? Sam tamped down her impatience. It certainly wasn’t Darryl’s fault her hours were crammed to the max.

She picked up a tray of brownies and began to spread chocolate buttercream frosting on them. She plopped a small Mexican-style sugar skull on each of the brownies and carried the tray to the sales room.

Jen moved items around, making space for the new brownies on the top shelf. One customer remained at a table, a woman Sam recognized although she couldn’t place the connection.

“So, I hear Darryl might be working on a new spot for the chocolate operations,” Jen said as she wiped crumbs from the countertop.

“Yeah, we’ve discussed a few options. Our latest idea is to find an existing location and he’ll outfit it the way I want. We don’t need a store front, but it’s got to be large enough for production, office space and shipping. I’m hoping we don’t run into hassles with the zoning laws—you know, running a food production facility can get tricky.”

“It would be great if it had some kind of special ambiance, though,” Jen offered. “I don’t know what, exactly, but you work best, Sam, when you’re in a creative environment.”

It was true. Sam loved Sweet’s Sweets’ location in the old adobe building just off the historic Taos Plaza. Even though she was in the kitchen most of the day, the place with its view toward the older buildings in town, its purple awnings and wide display windows—all of it added to the atmosphere which made the bakery so special.

“I might be able to help.” The customer spoke up so quickly Sam almost jumped.

She’d forgotten they were speaking in front of an outsider. The woman with the dark, smooth pageboy wiped her fingers on her napkin as she stood. She crossed the room in three strides.

“Victoria Benson,” she said, extending her hand. “Benson Realty. If it’s not our listing, no problem.” That last bit sounded like part of an advertising jingle.

Sam shook Victoria’s hand. “The thing is, I’m not quite sure—”

“Actually, it sounds like you have a very good idea what you want. Spacious, commercial, a bit classic. Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.” Victoria didn’t look at all apologetic. “And I meant what I said about listings. We work with all the other local agencies as well as the major national firms and MLS. Whether it’s a purchase or a lease we’ll find you something.”

Sam felt her mouth flap open. She closed it and stared at Victoria.

“Well, yes, it would need to be a lease. At least at first. We might talk about purchasing later on.”

“Okeydokey. I’ll do some research on this and get back very soon.” Victoria reached for one of Sam’s business cards near the register. In a seamless move she stuck it in her pocket and came out with her own, which she handed to Sam.

With a quick little wave, Victoria turned toward the door. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Sam and Jen exchanged a wide-eyed look. What was it about the universe providing exactly what you needed at the right moment? Was this providence or the fact that Sam had handled the carved box this morning?