Sweet Masterpiece (The Samantha Sweet Mysteries) by Shelton Connie

Author:Shelton, Connie [Shelton, Connie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Secret Staircase Books, an imprint of Columbine Publishing Group
Published: 2010-08-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Sam was getting hungry and the whole Mrs. Knightly outfit was beginning to make her itch—she didn’t do dresses very often. Luckily, she’d thought of that and brought a change of clothes. She suggested to Rupert that they go inside the café for some lunch. While he ordered her a Reuben sandwich she slipped into the ladies room where she traded the dress and silk jacket for jeans and a soft pullover from her roomy shoulder bag.

“Better,” she told him when she came back to the table. “I’m glad I could fool Carolyn Hildebrandt with the Mrs. Knightly getup, but it’s better that I talk to Bart Killington as myself.”

They devoured their sandwiches and headed back toward Hildebrandt’s gallery. Parking was at a premium on the narrow street but they found a spot that gave a decent view of the front door from about a half-block away. Then came the wait. They had no idea what time Bart would be coming, provided he didn’t change his mind and not show at all. Two hours dragged by.

“What if he came and went while we were eating?” Sam said.

“Patience, my dear. The lady said he was coming this afternoon. We were back here at twelve-thirty, so the odds are in our favor.”

Sam wasn’t very tolerant with this kind of thing, but resisted twitching in her seat. There were so many other things she could be doing this afternoon—checking on her properties, pre-making more decorations for that wedding cake, nagging her daughter about getting a job.

To amuse herself she pulled an old receipt out of her bag, smoothed the eight-and-a-half by eleven page, and began sketching ideas for her pastry shop on the back. Someday Sweet’s Sweets would become a reality, not merely a sideline business run from a cramped kitchen, represented by a name on a business card.

“Sam, look up. I think that’s him,” Rupert said.

The dark-haired man was a block away, walking toward them, on the shady side of the street. Just before he reached the gallery he passed through a shaft of sunlight and Sam got a clear look.

“You’re right.” They both sat straighter in their seats.

Bart stayed inside for nearly thirty minutes and Sam was starting to get impatient again but Rupert told her stories from some of his more memorable book signings to keep her from jumping out of the car and invading the gallery. Before he got to the one about the male cover model and the romance writers convention of 2004, Sam spotted Bart on the sidewalk.

“There he is—be ready!”

He cranked up the Land Rover and started a slow maneuver out of the tight parking spot. Bart got into a dark green Jaguar with the dealer sticker still on it.

“Don’t let him see us,” she said.

“Honey, I’ve written enough stalker scenes to know how to handle it.”

She had no choice but to believe him. They stayed back a few car lengths but she still worried that only a blind guy wouldn’t notice the hulking SUV.

Apparently Bart didn’t.

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