Chapter 22

 

Sam left the hospital and walked toward her van. The visit with Tansy Montoya felt futile, although Sam had handled the wooden box before she came this morning. Beau was right—the poor woman seemed to be in a perpetually restless sleep. At one point her unbandaged eye fluttered a little when Sam spoke to her, but the nurse said that happened quite a lot. It still didn’t mean Tansy was out of danger or that she would have any memory of her traumatic experience.

Still, Sam hoped she might have done some good. Her mind shifted to the day ahead as she started the van and drove toward Sweet’s Sweets.

Once she checked in at the bakery and made sure everyone was ready for tomorrow’s Halloween deliveries and there were plenty of goodies to hand out, she would head for the new location. In her head, she’d tried thinking of the place as her factory, even though she still had a hard time reconciling the assembly-line image that came to mind. She had finally settled on a name for the new portion of her business: Sweet’s Traditional Handmade Chocolates. She wanted the promise of craftsmanship to let people know this was not Hershey’s.

Darryl had promised extra crew today for the arrival of the appliances, his goal to get everything installed, tested and an inspection scheduled for this afternoon or early tomorrow. When Sam thought of actually working in the spacious new kitchen her pulse quickened. At the very least, by this afternoon the extra worktable, storage racks and all the candy-making gear would leave the bakery. Julio and Becky would surely perk up once they had their separate work areas back.

She pulled into the alley behind Sweet’s Sweets and picked up her baker’s jacket from the seat beside her. Inside, the kitchen was suspiciously neat and tidy. Becky’s orders covered the original worktable but the second one sat empty.

“Is this your way of saying it’s time to get this table out of here?” Sam joked.

Becky smiled as she looked up from a pack of black cat cookies with arched backs. She’d piped yellow eyes and whiskers onto about half of them. “I suppose it could go.”

Julio was more direct. “Sure would be nice to have the Hobart back in its usual spot.” He edged sideways to pour a sack of flour into the big mixer bowl. “Just saying.”

Sam rechecked her orders. The week had been so crazy, she didn’t want to forget something major at this point. “I think we’re ready. If the three of us can get the table into the back of the van, I’ll take it away today.”

No one protested the plan at all. They did end up having to call on Kelly to take the fourth corner, and there were some grunts and groans as they hefted the bulky table.

“At least there’s a whole gang of burly construction dudes to unload this at the other end, right?” Kelly asked, breathing hard.

The van door didn’t quite close but Julio found a length of rope and secured everything for the ride. Sam made a quick trip through the sales room, verifying the display case was filled with scrumptious goodies and the coffee, tea and cocoa supplies were adequate. It was another thing to keep in mind as she spread her attention between two locales—staying on top of materials so their reputation for quality of service never lagged.

The counter behind the displays and cash register was stacked with boxed orders.

“The party cakes and all the cupcakes for the school carnivals are in the walk-in,” she told Jen. “Becky’s finishing more cookies now, and I think she said she had a birthday cake or two.”

“Sam, don’t stress. I know—give out cookies to the kids who come in costume tomorrow afternoon.” Jen reached out and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “We’ll handle it all just fine.”

Sam let her muscles relax for a moment. “I know you will.”

“Plus, we can always call you if we can’t locate something.”

“You’re telling me to go ahead and get out of here, aren’t you? To quit dithering.”

“Yes, mama hen.”

They both laughed. Sam headed toward the back door at the same moment two ladies came in the front, snagging Jen’s attention.

Kelly popped out the back door of Puppy Chic when Sam’s engine started.

“I forgot to mention it earlier—would you and Beau like to come over for dinner tonight? Simple, casual, come in your work clothes. Scott’s coming. He keeps talking about the history of your new—old—house. He’d love to visit with you again. And, you don’t have to cook.”

“I think we could manage that,” Sam said. “Subject to whatever happens that might interrupt Beau’s dinner hour.”

Kelly sent her a dimpled smile and dashed back inside. Sam tapped Beau’s cell number, was sent to voicemail and left a message. At least with two of them keeping an eye on the time, maybe she wouldn’t get carried away and work half the night again.

She drove carefully along the back roads, very aware of the heavy table strapped into her van, relieved when she arrived at the Victorian and pulled up outside. Within a few minutes, she’d rounded up enough men to do the heavy lifting and the gleaming metal table sat in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“Gus almost has the gas line connected to the stove,” Darryl told her. “Plumbing’s all done down here. Ray is upstairs making sure you have a functional bathroom up there.”

“So we’re really close, right?” she asked, eyeing the space.

“Your fridges are revving up cold, as we speak. At this point, I’ve got the inspector scheduled for tomorrow morning, but he said he’d try to get by before quitting time tonight if he could.”

“Would a box of cookies be considered a bribe?” she asked. “I have some out in the van.”

“Is the bribe for me or for him?” Darryl’s natural smile widened. “Either way, it couldn’t hurt.”

She fetched the cookies then began the task of removing protective plastic from the new appliances and finding a spot for the slew of instruction manuals. She found herself imagining her new workday and moving through the kitchen to decide placement of supplies and work spaces.

I’ll heat the chocolate in here at the stove and temper it, she thought. Fillings, molds and decoration will be done here on the big table. There was plenty of workspace for two or three people. It would be simple to wheel carts of finished chocolates into the dining room for packing in the decorative boxes. For that matter, until the volume grew dramatically, they could pack the fancy boxes into cartons and ready them for shipping in the same room. As the business grew, packing and shipping would happen across the foyer in the parlor.

A vision flashed through Sam’s mind—these rooms filled with workers making and boxing chocolates all day, the upstairs rooms having banks of computers and customer service people taking orders online and over the phone, the space in the butler’s pantry and maid’s quarters being quickly outgrown and the shipping department moving into the carriage house out back. Trucks with the Sweet’s Traditional Handmade Chocolates logo backed up and were filled with cartons going out all over the world.

She shook her head and the images flew away. Where had that come from?

The wooden box. She’d handled it this morning before visiting Tansy Montoya. Although the mysterious artifact had shown her some strange things in its time—invisible fingerprints, auras and such—she’d never witnessed such a full-fledged, three-dimensional experience as this. It was as if she’d been standing in the middle of a bustling place and watching the workers move about their jobs. A real factory. Her factory.

Did she dare tell Beau about it? If this came about, it could mean a major lifestyle change for them.