Sweet Surprises (16 page)

“I do.”

“Good, because I'm going to the ranch and I'm calling your ex's partner. I'd also like to speak with your ex. Do you have contact information for him?”

“Are you kidding? He stole me blind before he left the country. For some reason, he didn't bother leaving a forwarding address.” She sounded flip. Which was better than sounding angry or bitter.

Kane didn't even blink. Maybe he'd heard it all before. Maybe he'd dealt with more than one sordid tale of betrayal. Whatever the case, he just took out a notepad, scribbled something on the top page. “What's your ex's name?”

She gave it and Jeff's, provided the phone numbers she knew, answered a couple more questions about Dan's crimes. As she finished, a marked cruiser pulled into the back lot.

Kane watched as it parked next to his vehicle. “Jax is here. He'll dust for prints and look for other evidence. I'll have him jerry-rig something in the window to keep anyone from getting in tonight.”

“I appreciate it.”

“We've also got a couple of deputies in the park. If the guy is still there, we'll find him. Or her,” he added. “I'll call you with an update tomorrow. Go on back to your apartment for now. If Jax needs anything, he'll knock.”

It wasn't a request. It was an order, and she could see Kane expected her to obey it.

“I'll need to clean up the mess,” she said. The last thing she wanted was for Byron to arrive in the morning and see the smashed bowl still lying on the ground.

She hadn't expected him to get so upset.

Not the guy who'd stood at his son's funeral, holding his wife and his daughter-in-law and telling them that everything was going to be okay. Not the one who'd stepped in and helped finish raising his three granddaughters. He'd always been larger than life, seemingly indestructible. But, that bowl—that one shattered bowl—had nearly broken him.

That pissed her off.

A lot.

Whoever had been running through the field needed to pay for what had been done. She bent to lift another yellow porcelain shard, and Kane stepped in front of her. “It's going to have to wait, Brenna. I'll have Jax let you know when he's finished. You can clean up then.”

“I can wait in the front of the shop,” she said, and he shrugged.

“Suit yourself. Just don't touch anything in here.” He tossed the order over his shoulder as he walked away.

She obeyed it because she didn't want to do anything that would hamper the investigation. She didn't even flick on the light as she walked into the hall and headed past Byron's office. The door was open and she could see the desk, the shelf of recipe books Byron had collected. Inside each one, he'd taped some of the family recipes, ones that had been perfected over generations. She'd looked at them a few times, used them to try to recreate the candy the Lamonts were known for. Aside from the chocolate roses and milk chocolate bonbons, she still hadn't developed any skills worth mentioning. She couldn't clean up the mess and she wasn't going back to her apartment, so she might as well read. The recipe books were the only thing available. Who knew? Maybe poring over them would help her accomplish what she hadn't yet: candy making proficiency.

She sat at one of the two booths that had been added to the shop sometime in the fifties, the old book falling open to the center. She'd planned to start from the beginning, but there was a recipe card attached to the page with a paper clip. Laminated and smudged from years of being held and read, it was handwritten in spidery cursive that looked nothing like Byron's. Surprised, she lifted it from the book.

Forever Kisses
was scrawled at the top. Beneath that, a list of ingredients:

She smiled, turning the recipe over and looking for a name. There was nothing. Just that sweet little card with its cute little recipe. She probably should have put it back in the book, but she tucked it into her pocket instead.

She had a heck of a lot to learn about candy making, but she was beginning to think she had even more to learn about love. She'd seen it in action with her grandparents, but she'd forgotten just how close they'd been, just how much they'd clung to each other in the good times and in the bad. Dusted with laughter and sprinkled with tears, baked with friendship that lasts through the years.

She could use a little of that.

She pushed the thought aside, the sound of Jax moving around in the kitchen filling her ears as she opened the recipe book to the beginning and began to read.

* * *

It had been a hell of a night and River was in no mood to have a hell of a day. Based on the fact that Byron Lamont was standing on the porch, banging on the door at five thirty-four in the morning, he had the feeling he was going to get one anyway.

He opened the door, tried to smile. “Good morning, Byron.”

“What's so good about it?” Byron snapped, stepping into the foyer without being invited.

“If this is about last night—”

“It isn't, but if you want to explain how a brick ended up being tossed through my shop window, I'm willing to listen.”

“If I had answers, I'd give them to you.”

“Were those two nitwits here when I dropped Belinda off last night?” he demanded.

“Which two nitwits?” He might not be all that keen on Huckleberry and Angel, but he wasn't going to let someone else bad-mouth them.

“Don't be dense. The pregnant girl and that red-haired boyfriend of hers.”

“Huckleberry isn't Angel's boyfriend.”

“Huckleberry? What kind of idiotic name is that?”

“Apparently, the one his mother gave him.”

“If you believe that, I've got some swampland to sell you in Florida.”

“Look, Byron, I appreciate your frustration—”

“
Frustration?
I'm damned angry. I've been running that store for over fifty years and I've never had even a hint of vandalism. Until now.”

“I appreciate your frustration,” River repeated. “But you don't have the right to come into Belinda's house and add stress to her already stressful life. If you want to discuss last night and the two kids who might or might not have had something to do with it, let's go outside.”

Byron's mouth opened, slammed shut.

Finally, he shrugged. “You're right. And you're a lot more polite about it than Dillard would have been. He'd have booted me out five minutes ago, and I'd have let him because I'd have known I was wrong. Sorry, son. Long night, and I'm not fit for company. Or so my granddaughter is telling me. Which is why I'm here. Brenna said Belinda has therapy this morning.”

“She does, but not until nine.”

“She didn't mention that part. Just told me to get my sorry behind out of the shop until I could be more pleasant company. Then she said I might as well make myself useful while I was at it and take Belinda to therapy. Next thing I knew, I was outside the shop and she'd locked the door on me.”

“Don't you have extra keys?”

“Sure as hell do, but it's good for Brenna to open the shop by herself because she's going to have to do it Monday.”

“She mentioned you were going on a fishing trip.”

“Alaskan fishing. You ever been, son?” Byron walked down the hall and straight into Dillard's office. He took a seat in the easy chair, pulled a cigar out of his pocket, and clamped it between his teeth.

“I can't say that I have.”

“That's surprising.”

“Why?”

“I do my research. Saw some write-ups on your restaurants. Fresh and local, right?”

“Yes.” He wasn't sure where Byron was going with this, but River was supposed to be at Chocolate Haven in fifteen minutes, so he'd better get there quickly.

“Seems to me, a highbrow chef like yourself would know the joy of fresh Alaskan salmon and halibut.”

“I've eaten it.”

“But you've never caught it and then fried it up, right there in a pan on the beach, have you?”

“No.”

“Tell you what, son. You help me out and I'll bring you the next time I go.”

“Fishing?” The last time River had fished, he'd been a teenager still living at the ranch.

“Just think of all the recipes you could come up with while you're out there in the Alaskan wilds. Think of how you could market that down in Portland.” He was selling it hard, and River was just curious enough to ask what he wanted for the favor.

“What do you need help with?”

“I'll tell you, but you breathe a word of it and I'll swear you're lying.” He took the cigar from his mouth and leaned forward, his light green eyes gleaming. “I've got a problem with Brenna.”

“What kind of problem?”

“She's got no confidence. The girl has everything she needs to make chocolate right here.” He jabbed himself in the region of the heart. “But she's so busy doubting herself that she's just about useless in Chocolate Haven's kitchen.”

“I'm planning—”

“Wait.” Byron held up a finger. “Give me a minute to say my piece. With Adeline laid up with morning sickness and Chase tied up with college, there's no one around to help Brenna out. If I hadn't been planning this trip for a year, I'd cancel out, but I have been.”

“Brenna—”
And I already have an agreement
was what he was trying to say, but Byron was on a roll.

“She's smart. No doubt about that, and she's got the heart for it, but that bastard fiancé of hers wore her into the ground. You've seen her. Skinny as a rail, no color in her cheeks. She's lost her confidence. Her mojo. And she needs some people to come alongside her to help her find it again. I'm trying to do that, but since I'm going to be gone for two weeks, I need a stand-in. I've thought about it long and hard, and you're the only one I can think of who has the skills necessary to make the chocolate and run the business. You help me out and I'll make it more than worth your while.”

“Okay.”

“Now, hold on a minute,” Byron said, then he frowned. “You said okay.”

“Right.”

“Hmm.” He clamped the cigar between his teeth again. “That went a lot easier than I imagined.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Just considering why that might be.”

“Tell you what, Byron,” he said, glancing at his watch. “How about I go check on Brenna's progress and you stay here with Belinda.” He walked out of the room and Byron followed.

“Now, hold on a minute, son. I'm thinking that Belinda would not appreciate me helping her get ready for therapy.”

“Angel will take care of that. She'll get her up before she goes to work and have her ready before she leaves.”

As if his words had conjured her, Angel appeared at the top of the stairs, an oversized nightshirt barely covering her belly, the cuffs of her flannel pajama bottoms dragging the floor.

She saw Byron and stopped cold, her eyes wide with surprise, her hair falling lank around her pale face.

Byron looked surprised, too, the cigar nearly falling from his lips.

He grabbed it, shoved it in his pocket.

“What's going on?” Angel demanded. “Why's he here? Does he want to accuse me of causing more trouble?” If she was guilty of throwing a brick through the window at Chocolate Haven, she wasn't showing it.

“He's taking Belinda to therapy this morning.”

“Like hell he is,” she growled. “If you can't do it, I'll take the day off and take her.”

“You better watch your mouth, young lady,” Byron snapped. “In another couple of months you're going to have a kid listening to your every word. You want that kind of language coming out of your toddler's mouth?”

“No.” She had the good grace to look embarrassed. “But Belinda doesn't need someone like you causing her problems.”

“Someone like me? All I've done is call the police because someone threw a brick through my window. Whoever threw the brick is the problem,” he countered. “Besides, me and Belinda go way back. Dillard was my best friend. You ever meet him?”

“No.”

“Well, come on into the kitchen and I'll tell you how Dillard and I got to be buddies while I make some breakfast. You hungry?”

“I guess,” Angel said, and to River's surprise, she walked down the stairs, stopping just a few feet from Byron. She looked softer than River had ever seen her, all the hardness that was usually in her face gone.

“You guess? Doll, you've got to eat for that kid. You want him to be healthy, right?”

“How did you know it was a boy?”

“Looks like you're carrying around a basketball. My late wife always said that meant it was a boy. Now, hurry it up. I'll teach you how to make the best scrambled eggs and French toast you've ever eaten.”

“I'll eat any French toast anyone puts in front of me.”

“Not after you taste mine. Best in the state, but don't tell Laura Beth I said so. Wouldn't want to offend her.”

“No, I guess not.” Angel looked confused.

River
felt
confused.