Chapter 48

 

The sun had just topped Wheeler Peak, casting long shadows and making the ornate trim stand out more than usual on the Victorian. Sam parked in her usual spot under the portico. No sign of Bobul this morning but she knew he could show up at any moment. Early mornings and late nights were nothing unusual to him.

The ICU scene with Tansy Montoya this morning kept playing through her mind. Her hands, freshly warmed by the box, had touched Tansy’s arms, her hands, her face. No response. When she laid both palms over the woman’s heart, she swore her breathing changed. But it was so slight, barely noticeable. She’d tried sending every positive wish toward the sad figure on the bed but without an immediate response Sam had no idea whether her efforts were having any effect. Finally, all she could do was pray for the best and leave.

She unlocked the side door of the carriage house and peered in, checking Lisa’s progress in moving the shipping supplies into the house. There was still a stack in the middle of the floor, mostly cartons of the satin boxes for their orders. She would need to come back out and count them. Heaven forbid if they ran out of those when an order was due. Mr. Bookman was a nice guy, but Sam had a feeling he could become very firm about his deadlines.

She headed back to the big house, went in through the side door, hung her heavy coat on its normal peg near the back door, and walked into the kitchen. Although Bobul could pop up at any time, Benjie and Lisa wouldn’t come for another two hours. Sam planned to use the time to inventory supplies—which were moving out at an astounding rate nowadays—and place orders for whatever was running low. The special powders—she must ask Bobul about them today. He was her only possible source.

Upstairs in the turret room, she turned on her computer and let it go through its boot-up routine. It looked as if they would have gorgeous autumn weather today—clear blue sky, light frost on the grasses of the wide field beside the house. Already the white frost was turning to dewy droplets.

She decided to start her inventory with the foodstuffs in the storeroom; she carried a notepad as she went back downstairs. She gave herself a minute to admire the renovations and the way the old house had shaped up so nicely as her very own chocolate factory. Her early reservations about the place seemed silly now. She would have to thank Kelly and Darryl for helping to set aside her fears.

The storeroom seemed dim, even with the overhead light fixture. She pushed the curtains aside, knowing the sun would soon be reaching this south side of the house. Better. The shelves containing bags of sugar and cocoa, spices and flavors, food colors and decorative glitters and sprinkles were much more visible now. She drew columns on her notepad and began counting.

She was halfway through the cacao boxes, each labeled according to its origin country, when she heard a sound from the basement. She straightened. Was this more of the house and the box reacting to each other? She started to poo-poo the idea but thought of the box inside her backpack, which was hanging on a peg by the back door. Had she locked herself in? She set her list aside and walked into the kitchen to check.