Sweet Devotion. Felicia Mason
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added a miniature version of it to the stack of stuff she’d need. Then, with basket in hand, she headed outside. That’s when she remembered her van wasn’t out back where it was supposed to be, but still at the community center. She couldn’t very well make deliveries on her bicycle.
Frustrated, Amber returned to her apartment and called Caleb, told him where the extra key was hidden under the tire carrier, and listened to a lecture about leaving a spare key where any common criminal could get it.
“Like we have common criminals in Wayside,” she muttered.
“Amber, there are criminals here.”
“And one of them wears a badge that says ‘Police Chief,’” she retorted. “Are you going to get my van or not?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’ll get it.”
She wasn’t about to tell him that, during the bad time, she’d taken up the practice of keeping a key hidden on her vehicle, never knowing if she might have to escape with just the clothes on her back, that spare key her only route to freedom.
It had come to that.
Thanks to Police Chief Paul Evans, those memories, ones she’d managed to suppress in order to make it through each day, now lay right on the surface, taunting her again. Reminding her that a woman was never truly safe.
Fifteen minutes later, Caleb drove up in her van, a Wayside squad car behind him. Amber couldn’t see who sat behind the wheel.
“Sorry about the inconvenience, Amber.”
He smiled a shy smile and handed her the key. “Where you headed today?”
“Over to Sunshine and Rainbows,” she told him. “Hold on a sec, I’ll be right back.” Amber dashed back to her apartment, tucked a couple of cookies in a small waxed paper sleeve, sealed it with one of her company stickers and picked up her cookie basket.
Back downstairs, she handed Caleb the cookie bag.
A big grin split his face. “Thanks, Amber.” He glanced back at the squad car. “Do I have to share?”
“These,” she said holding up the basket, “are one way for the kids to learn about sharing. So the answer to you is yes.”
The cop groaned and Amber laughed. “Thanks for bringing the van over.”
“Not a problem. The chief’s really sorry about—”
Amber held up a hand. “Don’t even mention him in my presence.”
Shaking his head, Caleb glanced back at the squad car. “But, Amber, he’s a good guy. Really.”
She slid open the side door and tucked the cookie basket inside. “If you really want to show me that you’re a good guy,” she said, “you’ll help me load up the rest of the van.”
Looking over his shoulder again, Caleb shrugged.
Not waiting for an answer from him, she headed back inside to get the two additional deliveries she had to make: one to the Wayside Inn Bed & Breakfast, and the other, a special order, to the Train Depot.
A few minutes later, Caleb slid the tray for the inn into the specially designed rack in the van. “Amber, I really think you should reconsider about Chief Evans.”
She faced him, her expression serious. “Caleb, if you want to remain friends, and I hope you do, you’ll not mention the police chief or your unfortunate choice of occupation in my presence. Comprende?”
The cop nodded.
“All right, then. I’ll see you around.”
She left him standing in front of the house where she rented a second-floor apartment.
Caleb went back to the waiting squad car and got in the passenger seat.
“She’s still pretty steamed at you, Chief.”
“I gathered as much from your frantic waving. What’s she doing?”
“Making deliveries. I can’t believe you’ve been here for three months and you haven’t had one of her honey pecan rolls.” The cop smacked his lips together. “Delicious.”
“So I’ve heard.” Paul pulled onto the street to head back to the station. “She shouldn’t leave spare keys on her vehicle. That’s just inviting trouble.”
Caleb broke the sticker seal on his treat and counted his cookies. Two. He glanced at the chief sitting next to him.
“What?” asked Paul.
“I only got two.”
“Two what?”
“Cookies. She said I had to share.”
“Cookies?” In a flash, Paul knew just where one of her deliveries would be made. For the last month, Sutton and Jonathan had been raving about the Cookie Lady at their after-school program. She came once a week. From their description—soft and funny, and “she smells good”—that from Jonathan—he’d come to the conclusion that the Cookie Lady was a sixtyish grandmother who spent her retirement baking cookies for the town’s kids.
If, as he suddenly suspected, Amber Montgomery was the Cookie Lady…Jonathan was partly right. Paul could claim firsthand knowledge of the soft part. But the Amber he’d met smelled like beets, beef and lemon meringue. And there’d been nothing funny or entertaining about last night.
Breaking off a teeny, tiny bit of chocolate chip cookie from the large treat, Caleb offered it to Paul.
“What’s this?”
“Well, she said I had to share. But if she knew you were the person in this car, I don’t think she’d want you to have any.”
Paul snorted. “You’re probably right.” He glanced at the sliver. “This is your idea of sharing?”
Caleb bit a piece of his much larger cookie, closed his eyes and moaned. “I’d marry that woman in a heartbeat if she were interested.”
That comment earned him a quizzical look.
“She doesn’t date.”
Paul grinned. “Maybe you’re not her type.”
Caleb smiled back. “That may be so.” He waved the last bite of the first cookie at Paul, then popped it in his mouth. “But I’m the one with the cookies.”
Chapter Three
Amber’s trademark honey pecan rolls went to the inn, then she dropped off a baker’s box filled with miniature versions of the sweet rolls to the Train Depot, a gallery in town that showcased model trains and railroad memorabilia.
Amber’s little business was growing. Soon it would be time to consider expanding, maybe finding a space to rent or building a Web site. But she liked being a small, one-woman operation. That way, she didn’t have to depend on anyone else. Self-sufficient. That’s how she described herself.
And that fit in more ways than one.
Appetizers & More by Amber didn’t have any employees. But Amber did have two faithful college students who, for a flat fee and a meal, helped her out with some of the larger events.
“Oh, no!” She’d forgotten to check on Dana last night. She couldn’t recall seeing her at the police station. So maybe she’d gotten away before the police roundup.
If she got caught in the dragnet, Dana probably got as much of a kick out of it as that little man Silas.
Amber didn’t like or trust cops. The only reason she tolerated Caleb Jenkins was that she’d gotten to know him first as a fellow runner and then as the instructor in a karate class she’d taken shortly after moving to Wayside. It had been almost six months before she found out what he actually did for a living. By then, she’d learned to trust him. A little.