Sweet Masterpiece - The First Samantha Sweet Mystery (17 page)

The group began to disperse and Charlie
caught up with her on the way back to the Subaru.

“How did you do that?” she asked. “I had a
bump on the back of my head and now it’s hardly there.”

Sam thought of what Zoe said about how much
better her aching legs felt after she’d touched them. And what
Darryl said about not broadcasting this . . . whatever it is.

“I guess it’s just a healing touch,” she
said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She got into the car and waved at Charlie as
she drove off.

Now she had something else to worry about.
How would she continue to answer questions like this?

Chapter 20

The drive back to Taos went by in a blur. Sam
basically had to make her mind a blank, except for watching the
other traffic, in order not to go completely nuts. She couldn’t let
herself dwell on the fact that she was now probably a felon for
breaking into Bart’s house and taking the envelope. And she
couldn’t begin to fathom what was going on with this whole ‘healing
touch’ ability that she now seemed to possess, mainly on the days
she handled the strange wooden box. All she wanted to do was bake
and sell beautiful pastries to make people’s lives a little
happier. She didn’t want to deal with a lot of mysterious stuff in
her life.

She approached Taos in the middle of the
town’s little rush hour. Since Zoe’s house was on her way home, it
would be the perfect time to trade cars, if she was back from her
own errands. Sam pulled into the drive that led to the back of the
property, noting a couple of guest cars parked in the front. She
could see Zoe, alone, through the lighted kitchen window so she
tapped once and walked in, holding up her car keys.

“Hey there, you’re back,” Zoe said. They
exchanged a few tidbits of catch-up news: she had two couples for
the night but they’d walked down to the plaza for dinner at one of
the nearby restaurants.

“Oh, I meant to ask you,” Zoe said. “What on
earth were you doing with deathcamas in your truck?”

“What?” Death something?

She held up a slack plastic grocery bag.
“This was in your truck. I’ll admit that I peeked.”

The plant that Sam had found at the Anderson
place. Cantone’s place. “I was going to ask if you knew what it is.
It’s a peculiar shade of green.”

“It’s poisonous. Highly toxic to livestock
and it grows wild around here.”

“I found it at one of the houses I cleaned
this week.” Might as well admit the strange phenomena. “When I
finished cleaning I saw residue of green all over the kitchen.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “This is not something
that should be in anyone’s kitchen. It can kill you. Not that a
person would normally eat it. According to the books, it’s very
unpalatable, and it would take multiple doses. But cows and sheep
sometimes get into it in grazing pasture. The results aren’t
pretty—vomiting, frothing, convulsions.”

“Whoa.” A chill coursed through Sam. “I
better take this to the sheriff.”

“If you found it inside a house where a man
died, yes, I’d do that.”

Sam picked up the bag gingerly. Driving the
two blocks to her house she couldn’t shake the creepy feeling as
Zoe’s words came back to her.

Her dashboard clock told her it was 6:31 when
she pulled into her driveway. There was no way she could meet
Beau’s mother in her current state, so she rushed inside, washed up
and put on her favorite orange-gold top that Zoe claimed brought
out the amber in her eyes. Kelly approved, Sam could tell. Ever
since their little come-to-Jesus talk the other night, her
daughter’s sullenness had gone away.

They headed north of town, following Beau’s
directions, and passed through El Prado watching for the turn. A
winding lane took them to the fenced twenty acres he’d described.
Sam slowed, looking for the log pillars and carved lintel that
comprised the entry. When that appeared on the right, she turned
and passed a heavy log gate which he’d left open. On either side of
the drive, early twilight revealed wide fields, smelling of new
hay, dotted with occasional deciduous trees.

Ahead, two porch fixtures cast golden light
on a log home and the windows glowed warmly. Impressive spruce
trees flanked the house. She followed the driveway and parked in
front of flowerbeds filled with the last of the summer’s blooms.
Beyond the house, a hulking wooden barn and dirt yard faded into
the shadows.

Beau stepped outside, drying his hands on a
towel. Two large dogs—a lab and a border collie—stared alertly from
the front porch.

“Hey, you found us,” he greeted. The dogs
wagged with enthusiasm and he ordered them to back away.

“I hope we’re not late. Things got a little
crazy today.”

“Hi, Kelly. Good to see you again.”

She handed him the bottle of wine they’d
brought. “And this is for your mother,” she said, indicating one of
the light cardboard pastry boxes Sam used for her business.

When had she come up with that? Sometimes the
girl surprised even Sam.

“Beau? Who’s out there?” The crinkly voice
came out with clarity and an unexpected amount of strength.

He ushered them inside.

“Mama, it’s Samantha and her daughter.
Remember? I told you about them.”

They walked into a homey main room with a
staircase to the left. Log walls held western art and Indian
blankets, there were leather couches with boldly printed pillows,
and a rock fireplace which dominated one wall. Navajo rugs covered
the floors. The far wall had two sets of French doors, facing
toward the dark fields beyond. A dining table, now set with places
for four, would overlook those views during daylight. Lamps with
old leather shades gave the entire room a golden glow.

“Sam, this is my mother, Iris Cardwell. Mama,
this is Samantha, and Kelly.”

“Please—call me Sam,” she said, shaking hands
with the tiny birdlike woman who had wheeled her chair toward
them.

“Honey, it’s so good to meet you,” Iris
exclaimed. “I’ve been hearing Sam this and Sam that, for days and
days.”

“Really?” Sam sneaked a glance toward
Beau.

“Mrs. Cardwell, we brought you a little
something,” Kelly said, handing the bakery box to the older
woman.

Iris took the box with both hands and studied
the purple and white label. “Well . . . my, my. Is it okay to open
it now?” She lifted the flap and stared inside. “Oh! A flower
garden!”

Bless her, Kelly had taken the extra cupcakes
that they’d decorated for the birthday party and placed four of
them into the box as a gift. It was a thoughtful gesture that
obviously made Iris’s day.

“I hope you like sweets,” Kelly said. She
took Iris’s hand and gave a light squeeze.

“I love ‘em. Now sit over here, honey, and
let’s chat.”

Beau relieved her of the box and asked if Sam
would like to lend a hand in the kitchen. They left the other two
talking like old friends.

“How about that?” Sam said as the kitchen
door closed behind them.

“Mama thinks she’s about twenty, herself.
It’s no wonder she gets along so well with kids Kelly’s age.”

Sam helped him put the finishing touches on a
salad and he took four good-sized steaks out to a grill on a back
deck.

“While we have a few minutes, would you like
the nickel tour of the house?”

They walked through the greatroom, where he
pointed out some Western antiques—a saddle, an old sewing
machine—that he said had come from the days when the family
homesteaded land in Oklahoma. Beyond the living area a short
hallway led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. Iris obviously occupied
one of the rooms, where it looked like the doors had been modified
to accommodate her chair.

“Let me turn the steaks and we’ll finish the
tour,” he said.

When he returned they walked up the stairs.
The master bedroom was spacious, with a king-sized bed that faced
double doors leading out to a little balcony. Masculine, heavy
furniture fit both Beau and his ranch lifestyle. A modern bathroom
contained a huge tiled shower and wide vanity. Male toiletry items
were scattered about, not in excess.

“The whole place is just so
you
,” Sam
told him. “If I’d pictured the perfect environment to fit your
personality, this would be it.”

“Predictable, then?”

She laughed. “No, I don’t see that.” Their
first dinner, the picnic at the gorge, certainly wasn’t
predictable. His bringing her, and Kelly, here to meet his mother
this early in the relationship—that wasn’t predictable either. She
had a feeling there were a whole lot more surprises she could learn
about Beau Cardwell. Including use of the occasional swear
words.

“Damn! The steaks!” He dashed down the stairs
and she heard the kitchen door swing back and forth on its
hinges.

She followed, noting that Kelly and Iris now
had their heads together over a photo album. In the kitchen, she
tossed the salad and noticed that he’d put ears of fresh corn into
a steamer, so she pulled them out and located a serving bowl.

“We’re safe!” Beau announced, carrying in a
platter of slightly charred steaks. “Luckily, Mama likes hers
pretty well done. The others are mostly medium.” He looked a little
chagrined. “I keep forgetting where the hot spots are on that
grill.”

Iris kept them entertained with stories of
Beau as a young boy, revealing that he’d fallen off his first horse
at the age of two but luckily his father was standing by and caught
him. Life was good until their ranch on the eastern plains of New
Mexico was hit hard by an eight-year stretch of drought that forced
the family to move to Albuquerque where Beau’s father took a job he
hated with the city water department. He died from a heart attack
four years later.

Iris’s face took on a wistful look as she
spoke of her late husband. Beau seemed stoic. It was clear that
family support fell to him at a pretty young age, barely out of
high school.

Later, with glasses of wine on the back deck,
staring into an onyx sky filled with pinpoints of diamond stars,
Sam asked him about it. The dogs—he’d given their names as Ranger
and Nellie—lay contentedly on their sides nearby.

“I can’t be sad. I learned so many great
things from my dad. Everything I know about owning and keeping this
land, I learned from him. Most of what I know about how to treat a
woman—even though my ex-wife has her own opinions on that. I
learned what I wanted in a relationship by watching my parents.
It’s just that Dierdre wanted different things, like city life,
society contacts, a corporate career. Nothing meshed with my style
and she just couldn’t citify me.”

“Was it very long ago? The marriage.”

“She left me more than fifteen years ago.” He
shrugged in his leather jacket. “It quit hurting about fifteen
minutes after her car rounded the bend. Sorry, I don’t mean to be
flippant about it. It’s just that during the whole five years of
our marriage there was rarely a time that wasn’t stressful. When we
first met I took the stress as attraction. I learned pretty quickly
that it wasn’t so.”

“I never married,” Sam told him. She gave the
quick rundown of her growing up years in Texas and the subsequent
adventure in Alaska. “Call it selfish, but as long as I was raising
Kelly I didn’t want to share her with anyone. We had a lot of fun,
just the two of us. I met men. I enjoyed some of them. I stayed as
discreet as possible, never let anyone move in. But never wanted
the white dress and the ring and the cake—ha! Me, who can bake a
wedding cake for anyone.”

“Was it a struggle?”

“Huh, you can’t imagine. Well, maybe you can.
I’d have to say that a sense of humor and some hard-learned street
smarts have gotten me through. My dad once advised me to save as
much of the money from that pipeline job as I could, and I did.
I’ve still got a little of it, stashed away. Luckily, cause I’ve
had to bail Kelly out of more things than I’d like to admit.”

He glanced toward the closed glass door. A
slight reaction. Kelly stepped out.

“Beau, Iris says she’s getting tired. Is it
okay if I help her get ready for bed?”

“Sure, hon, that would be nice. She can
handle most of it herself, changing clothes and brushing her teeth.
Just stay nearby in case she gets shaky on her feet.”

Once the door closed again, Sam found herself
telling him about her dream for Sweet’s Sweets and how she was
always just a little short on money for it. She could spend every
penny of her savings and do a half-assed setup for the business, or
she could save a little more and really do it right—find a prime
location, get good equipment, hire some help.

“I’d go that way, if I were you,” he said.
“One of the things Mama didn’t tell you about my dad was that he
tried to keep the ranch going, longer than he should have. Spent
every penny of savings, hoped each year would get better. By the
time we moved to Albuquerque, it was with our last tank of gas and
enough cash for four nights in the cheapest motel on east Central.
We lived on peanut butter sandwiches until his first paycheck came
through. And it didn’t get better for a long time after that. The
lesson I learned was to always keep a little buffer.”

“Sounds like you and my dad would get along,”
she said, taking his hand.

Chapter 21

One glass of wine, the chill night air, and
the long day began to catch up with Sam. When Beau caught her
yawning he suggested that they go back inside. She peeked into
Iris’s bedroom where Kelly was sitting in a chair beside the bed,
looking through a book.

“We should get going,” Sam said. “Iris, good
night. Thanks for having us in your home.”

While Kelly looked for her purse, Sam walked
out to the front porch with Beau. “It’s a beautiful night,” she
said, enjoying the warmth of his arm around her shoulders.