Sweet Hearts (20 page)

Sam covered the distance in half
her usual time, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain her way out of a speeding
ticket from one of Beau’s deputies. Although she didn’t need for Marla to be
awake for what Sam had in mind, it would simplify things with the neighbor if
it appeared to be just a simple visit.

Somewhere between her earlier
self-talk about whether she wanted to devote herself to healing and Ernhart’s
call a resolve had formed. Sam knew that she had to at least try to help her
friend—both in the search for her son and with her health problems.

She entered the Fresques home to
find Marla walking out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a small towel.

“Hey, there,” Sam said. “Well, I
have to say I’m amazed. You look a thousand percent better than the last time I
saw you.”

Marla carried the towel into the
kitchen. “I feel . . . I don’t know how to explain it. At the hospital I
suddenly got so much energy.” She laughed out loud. “I really thought I could
walk out into that hallway and dance.”

Across the room, Diane sent Sam a
fleeting, cautionary look.

“Well, don’t overdo things,
Marla. You need to take this slowly.” She edged Marla toward a recliner in the
living room. “Can I get you anything?”

Diane piped up. “I was just
heating water for hot chocolate. Let me get some for all of us.”

With the neighbor out of the
room, Sam knelt beside Marla’s chair. “I don’t know if you remember my last
visit to the hospital . . . you were pretty much out of it. But I held onto
your hands and it seemed to help warm them. Would you mind if I tried that
again?”

Marla lifted her hands and stared
at them.

“Here. I’ll do the left one first.”
Sam held the cool hand between her two palms and let the energy flow to her
friend.

“It
does
get warmer.
That’s really nice.”

Sam spent another minute in that
position, then walked to the other side of the recliner and took Marla’s right
hand. Again, the warmth.

“The doctor didn’t want me to
leave the hospital, but I’m glad I came home. I feel so much better here.”

“I know,” Sam said. Her mouth
opened, but she thought better of mentioning her conversation with Doctor
Caulder. How could she dampen Marla’s hope?

She took a breath. “Marla,
there’s something else. I’m working with some people, trying to find Tito.”

Marla’s face brightened. She
looked ten years younger.

Sam held up her hand. “They
haven’t found him yet. I didn’t mean to give you that impression. But there
might be . . . something, a lead. I told this man I would try to find something
that belonged to Tito, something personal.”

This could get tricky.

“Did either you or Jolie keep any
of his personal possessions?”

Marla’s brows knitted.

“Look, don’t stress over it. Is
Jolie home? Could I ask her?”

“She’s getting ready for bed.”
Marla waved toward the hall that led to the bedrooms.

“Here comes Diane with your hot
chocolate. I’ll be right back.” Sam smiled at Diane and headed toward Jolie’s
bedroom. She knew what she wanted but it was a little awkward admitting that
she’d already looked through the girl’s closet.

Jolie sat on her bed, wearing a white flannel nightgown with tiny
blue flowers on it.

“My grandma’s not going to stay
home for always, is she?” She gave Sam an intent stare.

“We don’t know, honey. There’s a
lot we don’t know about this kind of thing.”

“I didn’t really know my dad,
only what Grandma’s told me about him. My mom had brown hair, like mine, but I
can’t remember her voice or things we did together. I’m afraid I’ll forget
Grandma too.”

“You’re older now, sweetie. You
won’t forget her.”

Jolie nodded. “I don’t think so.”
She stared upward, blinking, toward her open closet door.

It didn’t take Sam more than a
few seconds to create a transition. She followed the girl’s gaze. “What’s that
box? Things your mom and dad left for you?”

Jolie nodded. “Nothing really
important. Just stuff.”

“Can you show me? I’ll get the
box down for you.” She watched the girl’s expression soften as she handled the
items in the box. When she brought out Tito’s sock, she glanced up at Sam.

“Jolie . . . I need to ask a big
favor. There are some tests . . . In order to find your daddy, they might be
able to get evidence from his things. Like this sock and the comb.”

“You mean DNA. I watch TV a lot.”

Sam smiled and nodded. Never
underestimate a kid.

“If they want to get DNA
evidence, it’s because he’s dead, isn’t it?” Jolie’s gaze was intent and
steady. Sam wasn’t getting off the hook with this.

“They don’t know. But there is a
possibility.”

“Don’t tell my grandma that,
okay?” She slipped the sock and comb into a small paper sack and handed it to
Sam.

Sam held it together long enough
to bid Marla goodbye and walk out to her truck, but by the time she’d driven to
the end of Marla’s road she had to stop. Her eyes prickled and then the tears
overflowed—for the brave little girl who knew her father was long gone, and for
the grandmother who couldn’t face the fact.

Sleep came on hard. The minute
Sam hit the mattress, fatigue from the intense day drained her of the energy to
be restless. She woke up to her normal four-thirty alarm, lying in the exact
position in which she fallen asleep. With a stretch that sent adrenaline to her
toes, she sat up. It had become so routine to dress in her bakery work clothes
and zombie her way through the morning routine that she left the house in
record time.

Fortified with coffee and getting
her assistants started with the day’s regular tasks, Sam pulled out the baked
layers and décor pieces for her own projects.

Top priority were the two wedding
cakes, which she would need to deliver by mid-afternoon. The smaller one
featured a homespun theme using fondant to create quilting, brocade and draped
fabric effects on three simple tiers of yellow sponge cake. She began by
coating them in white fondant, then making a peep-window effect on the middle
one by draping fondant in swags around a red-quilted section that showcased
miniature white roses. Simple, eye-catching, stunning with the contrast of
colors. The large topper consisted of a red heart created of fondant with
ruffled edges and sugar-coated smaller hearts on its surface. She set it aside
to be added at the point of delivery, and admired her work. A couple hours to
set up in the fridge and it would be ready to go.

“Is that your phone ringing?”
Becky asked as Sam returned from the walk-in. She nodded her head toward the
desk, where a low buzz throbbed against some order forms.

Sam grabbed it up.

“Ms Sweet? Jonathan Ernhart. I’m
on the outskirts of Taos. You said to call?”

“Yes, Mr. Ernhart.” Sam stepped
out into the shady alley behind the shop. “I’ve got a couple of items for you
if you want to come by my shop.”

“What about Marla Fresques?”

“She’s out of the hospital,
probably only temporarily. She doesn’t know you are trying to identify a body.”

He started to say something but
Sam cut in to give directions to the shop. He showed up fifteen minutes later
and she met him in the sales room, the paper bag Jolie had given her in hand.

Ernhart looked like a
suit-and-tie version of Beau—tall and slender, mid-forties—although he had
quite a bit more gray in his short, razor cut hair. He shook her hand and
gifted her with a businesslike smile when she handed him the small sack.

“I’ll try to get a rush on this,”
he said as they walked together out to his government-issue sedan. “I’ll call
you or Beau when I know something.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.
Marla’s health is really precarious right now. I’ve avoided telling her this
latest. If it’s not Tito, I’d prefer that we didn’t upset her for no reason.”

His eyes told her that outcome
wasn’t very likely.

She watched him climb into the
gray sedan and pull into traffic.

“Hey, Mom.” Kelly held the end of
a blue leash with a Schnauzer at the other end. He tugged her toward a dirt
area at the end of the building and the shrubs other dogs had undoubtedly used
a few hundred times.

Sam walked alongside.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Kelly
stopped in mid-stride. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Maybe it’s not.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m super busy.
No chance for regrets at the moment.” She picked at red fondant that had stuck
along her cuticles. “Beau and I thought we’d do a quiet dinner together
tonight. I’m actually relieved that we put off the wedding. What about you and
Ryan? Plans?”

“We’re double dating with Riki
and Tanner, dinner at Casa Giuseppe. It seemed safer to make it a group
thing—no chance anyone would get carried away with the romance of the moment
and do anything dumb like propose.” The Schnauzer tugged at the lead. “Sorry,
that didn’t really come out right either. Proposing isn’t dumb.”

“But it would be with someone
you’ve known for two weeks.”

“Oh yeah. Cannot
even
see
that happening.” Kelly’s aquamarine eyes twinkled. “C’mon Snickle,” she called to
the dog. “Riki’s working on his twin brother, Fritz, right now. Where
do
people get their pet names?”

Sam laughed along with her.
“Well, don’t work too hard.”

When Kelly turned in at Puppy
Chic, Sam walked back toward the bakery. The sun was out again and the warmth
on her back felt good. Her sales room was filled with customers, so she stood
near the wall that divided her place from the bookshop and dialed Marla’s
number.

“Sam! I’m so glad you called.” At
Sam’s inquiry, Marla said she was feeling even better than yesterday. “Diane
brought groceries and I’m making a big pot of my famous green chile stew. Would
you like to come for dinner tonight?”

Sam explained about the plans
with Beau, leaving out the part about how this would have been their wedding day.
She ended the call without mentioning Jonathan Ernhart or the DNA tests. No
point in ruining Marla’s upbeat mood.

The second wedding cake order
waited in the kitchen. Eight-, twelve-and sixteen-inch square tiers, separated
by white Doric columns, the whole thing like a regal pyramid in royal purple
and white scrollwork. Studying the sketches she’d shown to the client, she came
across the ones for her own cake. Her mood took a dip, but there was no point
in that. Their own joining in matrimony would come—just not today.

She bit at her upper lip and set
to the task, rolling and fitting basic white fondant to the layers, stacking
them, making sure the columns were strong and solid. Light purple bands trimmed
the lower edges, with deep purple draping and medallions. When the crew
suggested ordering sandwiches Sam was amazed to see that it was after one
o’clock already.

“I better pass,” she said. “Gotta
work while this stuff is soft, and then plan my deliveries. Becky, I’ll
probably need you to go with me to handle this big one.”

“No problemo. I got a neighbor to
watch the kids after school. You sure you don’t want a sandwich, for later?”

“Nah, I’ll snack on something.
Need to save space for dinner tonight.”

Which reminded her that she
hadn’t talked with Beau all day. But she didn’t have time to make a call now.
She worked with the delicate pleats in the fondant drape, concentrating on one
at a time. By the time the final medallion was in place, it was after three
o’clock and Sam realized she was pushing the deadline for her deliveries.

She and Becky carried the two
cakes out to the van and secured them. The first stop, for the large, columned
cake was for two hundred guests at one of the more elegant hotels, down near
the Rio Fernando. Sam had delivered a cake for a big political campaign there
last fall so she knew the general layout of the place. With help from the
kitchen staff, they set the cake on the elaborate dessert table in the midst of
a room decorated entirely in purple and white.

“Wow,” Becky said as they left.
“Can you imagine that huge room filled with people who’ve had a bit too much
champagne?”

“Glad I’m not paying for that
extravaganza,” Sam said. She pulled out her cell phone and noticed that she’d
missed a call from Beau.

“Things are a little nuts here
today but I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said in his recorded message. “I think
you’ll like the place where I made the reservations.”

“Good—I love a man with a plan,”
she told Becky as they pulled away from the hotel.

Their next stop was at a private
residence, one of the elaborate hilltop homes on a steep road above town; the
place had been featured in
Architectural Digest
once, as she recalled.
Sam negotiated the curves carefully while Becky kept an eye on the cake. The
bride’s mother dithered in and out of the huge great-room, directing the
florist and caterer not to trip over the tangle of wires where the band was
setting up, mainly getting in everyone’s way. Finally, the bride herself, in
curlers, came downstairs and showed them where to set the cake. She raved about
the ruffled red heart on top of it and the sugar hearts that gave the piece the
feel of an old fashioned quilt. Privately, Sam thought the country look was a
bit of an incongruity in the glamorous house but it was never her place to
argue with a willful bride or her mother.

“Whew! That makes me glad my
mother didn’t have a say in my plans,” Sam said. She glanced at Becky, settling
herself into the van. “It’s okay. Really. We’ll reschedule. Soon. Probably next
week.”

“Sure. I know.”

Sam directed her attention to
getting down the mountain. “Call the shop and see if there’s anything else we
need to do while we’re out,” Sam said, handing Becky her phone.