Maxi plunked the paper cup of cold coffee decisively on the worn wooden table. “We need to see Sam,” she said. “He needs to know that we’re here. That we’re on his side.”
Kate nodded. But she half-expected to hear that Sam couldn’t—or wouldn’t—have visitors.
“Given the fact that Kyle seems to believe I’m involved, it might be better if you asked about us visiting Sam,” she reasoned.
“That bobo!” Maxi said. To Kate’s puzzled expression, she added, “He’s a moron.”
Maxi stepped up to the glass partition, drew herself up to her full height, and smiled brightly. “Hi, Ray, we’re here to see Sam Hepplewhite. We’ve already cleared it with his lawyer.”
“Hey, Maxi,” the cop behind the desk greeted her cheerfully. He pulled out a clipboard and ran his finger down the list. “Yup, you’re good to go. Sam’s lawyer put you on the visitors list. Along with someone named Kate McGuire. She here, too?”
“Yes—that’s me.”
A few minutes later, they were seated on folding chairs in front of Sam’s cell. And Kate now understood why people called jails ‘graybar motels.’ Everything was, indeed, gray. The walls, the ceiling, the floors. The bars. And Sam.
Steel shelves that served as benches lined three walls. And there was a stainless-steel commode shoehorned into one corner.
Sam, in a faded navy jumpsuit, sat alone in the cell on the far-left bench. Near the bars. Farthest from the toilet.
As if he was waiting for a ride home, Kate thought. Had they told him he didn’t make bail? That he’d be staying until the trial? Or longer?
“Hey, Sam, we just wanted to stop by and see if there’s anything we can bring you,” Maxi said brightly.
“Nope. I’m fine.”
“Oh sure, you say that now. But tonight I’m making spicy fricasé de pollo, fluffy rice, and fried plantains. How about I bring you some of that for an early lunch tomorrow?”
He shook his head vigorously. “Don’t need it. ’Sposed to get three squares here.”
“What about a few of your things?” Maxi said gently. “A couple of books? Maybe your shaving kit?”
Sam shook his head again. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t think it’s allowed, anyway.”
Kate noticed the old baker never made eye contact. He seemed to be addressing a spot on a far wall instead of them.
“They shut down the Cookie House,” Kate said quietly.
Sam’s eyes went wide. He looked at her for the first time. Like he actually saw her. “No,” he mouthed.
Kate nodded. “They declared it a crime scene. Kyle won’t tell us anything, other than it’s closed for now.”
“Kyle is a damned—” Sam said before he caught himself. “He can’t. That’s the only part of her I…” Then he stopped again, looking down.
“I didn’t do it,” he said finally. “What good would that do?”
“We know that,” Maxi said soothingly. “And the whole town’s going to know it, too.”
“Not that lawyer of mine,” Sam spat. “Wants to tell the world I’m nuttier than a fruitcake.”
Whatever ailed Sam Hepplewhite, his mind was in perfect working order. Clearly, though, the rest of him had given up—body and soul. He didn’t care what he ate. Or how he looked. Or even if he had a few belongings to brighten his cell. And the only thing that did matter to him was swathed in crime scene tape.
“What if we could keep the bakery up and running?” Kate said. It popped out of her mouth before she even realized she’d said it. “Just until you get out.”
Sam’s body sagged against the gray wall. His face relaxed. He opened his blue eyes and looked straight at her. “You’d do that? Could you?”
Maxi smiled and looked at Kate. “I could help,” she said. “The flower shop is right next door. Of course, that dead bush in your window box? That chica is so gone!”
Kate took a deep breath. She looked at a tentative, hopeful Sam, then back at Maxi.
“Well, I am kind of between jobs right now. If you’re OK with me being there and running the place, I can do it. But I don’t know when the police will let us reopen. Or what kind of hoops we’ll have to jump through first.”
“I’m not some charity case,” Sam said defiantly. “I can pay you. I have a little money in savings.…”
Kate smiled. If Sam’s pride was returning, that was a good sign.
“Woo-hoo!” Maxi said, grinning. “We’re gonna run a bakery.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, partner,” Kate said, shaking her hand. “We’re going to run a bakery.”