The minute she hung up she made a quick inventory of supplies and calculated a schedule. The three cakes for the tiers would have to be baked the night before assembly and delivery. But she could get busy on the flowers and trim pieces right away. She whipped up a batch of buttercream frosting, tinted part of it in the bride’s chosen mauve and started making roses and buds. A darker tint for some of the flowers would add dimension. Even with a traditional cake like this customer wanted, Sam liked to add special touches. She’d no sooner slipped the baking sheet full of roses, on their small paper squares, into the fridge than Beau called.
“How did it go last night?” he asked.
“Same song, next verse. I don’t think I’m getting the whole story.” She glanced toward Kelly’s room. The door remained closed. Some job hunt.
“Thought you might be interested in knowing that some kind of plant toxin showed up in Riley Anderson—uh, Pierre Cantone’s system. The M.I. said there was fluid in the lungs, maybe pneumonia, so I don’t know if the two are related.”
“Odd. Maybe he was having an allergic reaction to something and that caused the fluid.” Sam realized that she was merely making wild guesses. “I’m still wondering where the roommate went, too. How weird is it that he just vanished. Do you think someone might have harmed him?”
“No real evidence of that. Maybe with Cantone’s death, he simply had no reason to stick around.”
That was certainly possible.
“Sam . . . I’d really like to see you again.” His voice held that familiar ache.
She glanced again at Kelly’s closed door and lowered her voice. “Me too. But it’s awkward right now. Your place?”
“Well, that’s awkward too. My mother is here.”
He’d mentioned his mother before. “Visiting?” she asked, daring to hope.
“No, and that’s the thing. She’s getting fragile and I’ve been debating what to do. Nursing homes are just so depressing.”
Sam could only imagine. Her own parents were still going pretty strong, and her sister Rayleen lived less than ten miles from them. Whenever Sam talked to friends who were dealing with the elderly and frail, it made her appreciate her situation.
They ended the call without really making any plans.
She was brooding over it when the phone rang again. Delbert Crow. He had another house for her to take care of, this one between town and the Taos Ski Valley. Not exactly a convenient drive, but hey, income was income. She wrote down the details and asked whether there was a key or if she’d need to break in. She knew what the answer would be. Luckily, her tool box was still out in the truck. She told him she could get on it that afternoon.
With another glare at Kelly’s closed bedroom door, Sam made herself a sandwich for lunch, knowing she still had to talk to her daughter about repaying the money. Dreading it.
Sam went out to her truck to be sure her tools and lawn equipment were loaded. She doubted that a property on the ski basin road would have an actual, formal lawn but she never knew. Best to be prepared.
Back in the kitchen she grabbed an apple and chips to go with her sandwich and noticed that Kelly’s bedroom door stood halfway open. A flush from the bathroom, and she meandered out wearing an oversize T-shirt and loose silk kimono.
“Morning, Mom,” she said with a yawn, coming into the kitchen and touching the side of the coffee carafe to see if it was warm.
“It’s nearly noon,” Sam said. “Coffee went cold hours ago.”
Kelly hmmm’d and filled a mug with the cold leftover brew, sticking it into the microwave.
“I’ve got a property to attend to this afternoon. Do not get into those roses in the fridge. They’re for a customer.” One of Kelly’s favorite things as a teen had been to pop a whole frosting rose into her mouth and just let it melt. “What are your plans today?”
She shot Sam a look that said she’d hoped not to do anything at all.
“We need to talk. Later.” Sam gathered her pack and left.
She reached the ski valley property quickly enough. Posted the requisite signage that USDA provides, notifying the world that the property was now under their jurisdiction. The place was high enough in elevation to be largely covered in trees, mostly piñon but with a few taller pines as well. Aside from a summer’s worth of mountain wildflowers and grasses to be leveled with the weed trimmer, the outdoor work would be minimal.
The house was a charmer, a picturesque log cabin with a wide porch across the front and a large redwood deck at the back. Wooden planters once held lush annuals, but crisp brown stalks provided the only evidence of them now. Overall, the place was well maintained and Sam wondered what had caused the owner to abandon it.
Inside, it was clear that they’d taken their time moving out. No furniture remained, the kitchen was neat, the refrigerator empty. Utilities had been cut off, apparently, but she checked the breakers anyway and made sure the hot water heater was shut off. This place wouldn’t need much at all in the way of cleanup, just some routine maintenance to keep it in showable condition until it sold. She guessed that a sale would come along soon—the property had that kind of curb appeal.
She spent an hour or so inside, sweeping up the few bits of mouse evidence and swiping at some corner cobwebs with a duster, draining the pipes and pouring a little antifreeze into each drain. With freezing temperatures approaching in the next month or so, and no heat in the cabin, frozen pipes would be the biggest potential problem. That done, she replaced the locks and turned her attention to the outdoors.
A split-rail fence surrounded an area that was probably two or three acres. Of that, most had been left natural with just a perimeter of twenty feet or so immediately around the house trimmed, either for appearance or as a firebreak. Sam cranked up her gas weed trimmer and set to work on it, concentrating on the drive and walkways first. The drone of the engine and monotony of cutting neat swathes gave her peace from dwelling on her daughter’s messed-up situation. Instead, she found herself thinking of the artist Cantone, imagining that he might have found inspiration in an idyllic mountain setting like this.
The sun had gone behind the surrounding mountains by the time she finished, darkening the property and narrow lane with shade. She packed up her gear, rechecked the locks and headed out.
As long as she was at this end of town, Sam decided she might as well dash by the Cantone property and give things there a quick checkover. It wasn’t more than ten minutes out of the way and there was still daylight once she got away from the steep hills surrounding the ski valley.
She zipped along the county road, enjoying the fact that she was out of the house, doing something on her own for a few extra minutes. Betty McDonald’s car was in her driveway, Sam noted as she turned in at Cantone’s. Some weeds were sprouting along the driveway but otherwise the property looked fairly neat.
Inside, nothing had changed. The smell of drywall mud from her little patch job gave the house an air of freshness, like new construction. In the kitchen she found herself staring at the places where she’d previously seen the greenish haze, but it was harder to spot this time. A faint dusting, barely noticeable now. She still wondered about that, whether she should mention it to Beau.
She locked the front door and turned toward the truck. Beside the driveway were some short plants that she’d never noticed before. They had an odd color, similar to the unusual green she’d spotted inside. On a whim, she walked over and plucked a stem from one. Handling the stem, some of the same substance came off on her fingers. It looked identical.