“I think she likes living alone. She never remarried, let alone dated, after Dad died.” Chloe leaned against the table, arms flat on the tabletop, hands crossed. “Do you talk to your mom ever?”
“My mom? We’re talking about your mom, Chloe.”
“Sam Hardy, you’re avoiding a perfectly honest question.”
“Yes, so let’s move on. Remember when you dared me to jump from the roof into the pool? I about killed myself.”
She laughed and allowed him to change the subject. They talked about his knee injury and his hope for rehab and getting back on the field in the fall. Then Ruby appeared with two mugs and a coffeepot.
“Y’all been sitting here for an hour. Coffee, Mr. Hardy? Chloe?”
“An hour? I should get back to work.” She started to stand, but he motioned to her.
“We’re catching up. Consider it part of your orientation for HARDRICK. Have some coffee. Please.”
Chloe reached for a mug but asked for half a cup. She hadn’t spent an hour chatting with a friend in—well, years. It felt good. Normal, even. She leaned back against the booth and inhaled the strong, rich brew.
“Ruby, call me Sam.” He accepted a full mug. “You’ve known me since forever.”
“It’s true. I’ve served you more chocolate milk and crullers than there are ticks on a raccoon. But now you’re my boss.”
“Still, call me Sam.”
“Okay, boss.” Ruby glanced at the clock. “You’ll be wanting to start the Friday afternoon cookies soon, Chloe.”
“What cookies?” There’d been no cookie tradition when she was a girl.
Ruby put a hand on her hip. “Every Friday, Donna made Triple Chocolate Fudge Caramel cookies. Folks start lining up at two o’clock to get them warm from the oven.”
“Okay. Can you have Laura Kate print out the recipe from the computer?”
“Computer? The only mouse Donna knows is one you set a trap for.” Ruby arched her brow as if offering a challenge and turned for the O’Shay table to warm up their coffees.
Chloe glanced at Sam. “Did Donna leave her recipes?”
“With me? Are you crazy?” Sam looked at the door as the bell chimed. Five customers entered and hurried to the register. “Didn’t she give them to you?”
“No one said a word about recipes.”
He turned to Chloe. “You don’t know how to make cookies?”
“Not just any cookie, Sam.” Ruby was back. “The TCFC. Triple Chocolate Fudge Caramel. It’s the new drug in town. I’m telling you, people go crazy over it.” She pointed to the register line where Robin was scribbling on an order pad. “They’re coming in now to get their orders in. Only two to a customer.”
Chloe rode a wave of panic. “Ruby, call Donna.”
“I’m on it.” The woman was already dialing.
“Sam, we have to find that recipe.”
He slid from the booth. “Come on, I’ll help you find it.”
An hour later, after scouring the office, the bakery cabinets, the pantry, and the storage closet, Sam felt hot and sticky, grit clinging to his hands and face.
Ruby’s call to Donna had gone straight to voicemail. The campy greeting said she and “...the Rodfather are out to sea and will return your call whenever the fish quit keepin’ it reel.”
Chloe was also covered in dust and oozed frustration. “How am I to make special cookies without the recipe? We’re already late!” Emotion thickened her voice. “Ruby, you don’t have the recipe? Or even an ingredient list? Laura Kate?”
“Donna never let me near her recipe box.” Laura Kate looked up from slathering cream cheese frosting on apple nut muffins.
