A Flicker of Doubt (Book 4 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)

by Tim Myers

It’s never too late for a tour of the candleshop,” I said “Come on in.”

  “Are you sure it’s not a problem?” she asked. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

  “My schedule’s all clear,” I said.

  She enjoyed her tour of the shop, and I persuaded her to take a pack of wax sheets. “Let me pay for this,” she said.

  I pointed to one corner of the sheet. “The honeycomb is crushed here, do you see? You can trim it and make a perfectly good candle, the directions are printed on the back, but I won’t sell it if it’s damaged.”

  “You really care about this place, don’t you?” she asked.

  “It’s not just my job; it’s become my life.”

  “I envy you that,” she said as I walked her out of the shop and to her car.

  “Thanks for the tour,” she said.

  “I’m glad you came by.”

  To my surprise, she leaned forward, as if she was expecting me to kiss her. I wasn’t sure what to do next, but I was saved by a call from the deck of the complex. “Harrison, do you have a moment?”

  “I’ll be right there, Pearly.”

  Jeanie started to kiss my cheek, then paused and settled for a handshake instead. “Thanks again.” ‘

  “Come back any time,” I said.

  “Even if I don’t have anything to report?” she asked.

  “My door’s always open for you, Jeanie. I love sharing what I know about making candles.”

  She studied me a second, then asked, “You’re not like most guys, are you?”

  I laughed. ‘It depends. Is that a good thing in your eyes or not?”

  She smiled. “Oh, it’s a good thing, you can believe that. We were alone together for half an hour and you never made a single pass at me.”

  “I don’t know you that well yet,” I said, surprised by her candor, and mine in reply.

  “Believe me, that’s usually not an issue. Good night, Harrison.”

  “Good night, Jeanie.”

  I waited until she drove off, then joined Pearly in front of The Crocked Pot. He was sitting in one of Millie’s cafe chairs, and I pulled another one from under the awning and joined him.

  Pearly said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting Jeanie to come by.”

  “I saw the way she was looking at you. She’ll be back, and soon.” He paused, then added, “And I’m willing to wager you’ll be glad when she does.”

  “Forgive me, but I’m not in the mood to be analyzed this evening,” I said.

  He looked as if I’d slapped him. “I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness. Sometimes I forget myself.”

  “Pearly, I didn’t mean anything by it It’s just been a long day.”

  “For me as well,” he said.

  “So, what’s on your mind?”

  “I’ve spoken with both Sanora and Heather, and I’m afraid I need some advice before I decide how best to proceed.”

  “You want advice from me?” I asked. “If we’re down to that, I’m afraid it’s pretty hopeless.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be so certain of that, Harrison. It appears that the main source of contention between them is you.”

  “Me? You can’t be serious” I said. “How could I be the problem?”

  “Oh, I’m not even certain they’re aware of it. They both claim it’s a territorial issue, but I feel you’re at the heart of their conflict.”

  “I’ve never dated either one of them,” I said. “Are you telling me they both have crushes on me?”

  Pearly let a slight smile slip out before he reined it in. “Nothing that dramatic, I’m afraid,” he said. “They aren’t fighting over your affection, but rather your friendship. In my conversations with both women, the recurring underlying theme was how much time you spend with the other woman. The currents of discord are rather strong.”

  “So what do I do about it? I barely have time enough to handle everything as it is, let alone add extra visits to each of them.”

  “We make time for the things that are important to us, Harrison. If you want both women to stay, I’m afraid it’s up to you.”

  “Of course I want them to stay,” I said. “But I can’t do anything as overt as coming right out and telling them.”

  “I’m afraid that’s exactly what you’re going to have to do, or both women will leave.”

  “How sure are you?” I asked. It was hard to believe that the dispute between Sanora and Heather was as simple as Pearly was making it out to be.

  “I’m as certain as I can be, given the circumstances. Talk to them, Harrison. Make them fell needed and wanted here.”

  “And if it doesn’t work?” I asked.

  “Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to find two new tenants.”

  I stood and stretched. “I’ll do my best,” I said. “Thanks for looking into this, Pearly.”

  “It was more rewarding than I expected,” he said. “Perhaps I was premature in my decision to retire.”

  Oh, no. Was I going to lose Pearly, too? “I don’t know how I can run this place without you, but I want you to do whatever makes you happy.”

  “Thank you, my friend. Good night.”

  I said good night as well and headed upstairs. I was on the third step when I remembered the cash till and report I’d shoved under the counter to go canoeing with Erin. Letting out a loud sigh, I turned and headed back to At Wick’s End. If I was lucky, the report would balance and I could get the deposit to the bank before I nodded off and crashed my truck. The balance was off by five dollars, not a horrible deficit, but one that would bother me the rest of the I night I’d just about resigned myself to losing the money when I started to put the till back into the cash register and found that an errant bill had slipped under the I drawer somehow. Relieved with the corrected balance, I made out the deposit but found I was too tired from the day’s events to risk driving to the bank. I tucked the deposit bag under my arm, promised myself I’d take care of it early the next morning, then went upstairs and straight to bed. The emotional time I’d been going through lately was finally catching up with me, and all I really wanted was to go to my place and forget the outside world even existed.

  Chapter 13

  When I woke up the next morning, it was spitting rain outside my window and thunder boomed in the distance. From the look of the sky, we were in for more before the storm system was through with us. At least I wouldn’t have to go back on the river anytime soon. I’d enjoyed my time with Erin on the water, but I wasn’t in any real hurry to repeat it. Maybe some day. I’d take the kayak out again on my own, but I wasn’t I ready, despite the success of yesterday’s excursion. I didn’t doubt Erin would have knocked on my door first thing if it hadn’t been storming out I’d take the reprieve where I could get it

  I opened my door and found my copy of the Gunpowder Gazette on my stoop. It cost me a little extra to have it delivered upstairs, but I was willing to pay for it, since it meant that if the young man delivering didn’t do it I’d have to climb down the steps and back up again in my robe.

  I opened the paper as I walked back inside my apartment and suddenly lost my appetite. There was a front page article about Greg Runion, accompanied by a photo of him with his largest grin glued firmly in place. I scanned the article to see that the Gazette was backing Runion’s development plans, and I wondered how much the endorsement had cost the developer. I hoped it was a fortune.

  I got dressed quickly without having the stomach to finish the article, let {done the rest of the paper, and headed down to Millie’s for a quick cup of coffee and one of her baked ambrosia treats. The place was half- full with a smattering of customers, but no one even looked up from their papers or their meals as I came in.

  “Morning,” I said as I reached for the coffee she had ready and waiting for me the second I’d walked in.

  “Good morning, Harrison. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
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  I looked back outside for a second, wondering if the sun had broken through the clouds when I hadn’t been paying attention. No, it was still cool and wet and gray outside. “You like this weather?”

  She laughed. “Harrison Black, if I wanted sunshine every day, I’d move to Southern California. I like having lots of rowdy weather. It makes me feel alive.”

  “So why don’t you move to New England?” I asked. They get lots of interesting weather up there.” “

  She huffed once. “I see you’re in a mood today, aren’t you? What’s brought that on?”

  “Have you read the paper today?”

  She frowned. “Are you talking about that Runion man’s advertisement that doubled as a stray? It’s shameful, isn’t it?”

  “I think so. He’s not going to be happy until all of Micah’s Ridge is paved over, but I was beginning to think I was the only one upset about it.”

  I hadn’t noticed Sanora sitting in back. She piped up, “Harrison, that’s a rather narrow way of looking at things, isn’t it? Not all development is bad.”

  “Sanora, don’t tell me you support him.”

  She sipped her coffee, then said, “I like to make my decisions on a case-by-case basis. If a developer hadn’t come in here and erected this building, we’d all be working in huts. I, for one, cherish a roof over my head.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said.

  She stood and drained her coffee. As she walked to the door, she said, “So as long as the expansion stops after you’ve got your place, you’re a happy man.”

  Before I could think of anything to say in rebuttal, she was gone.

  Millie smiled gently. “You know what? She’s got a point.”

  “Don’t you turn on me, too,” I said. “Any chance you have one of your glorious treats for me this morning? I’m in dire need of your baking”

  “I’m sorry, Harrison, I don’t have a single thing for you today.”

  She noticed the shocked expression on my face, then added quickly, “I’m teasing you, Harrison. You know I always hold something just for you.”

  She disappeared in back and came out a minute later holding a platter covered with a gingham dish cloth. “I think you might like one of these. I don’t ordinarily make them this time of year, but I thought you could use a special little pick-me-up.”

  I could smell the heavenly aroma before she even unveiled the plate. “Pumpkin doughnuts,” I said as I took the offered goodies from her.

  “They’re all just for you. I made one batch, and every one of them has your name on it, if you’re interested. I love to bake when it’s raining, and I know how you love these.”

  “I feel like I just won the lottery,” I said as I inhaled the heavenly aroma.

  A man from one of the back tables joined us and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Okay, that’s a lie. The second I smelled those doughnuts, I knew I had to have one. How much are they?”

  “I’m sorry,” Millie said, “but these aren’t for sale. They’re a gift. If you come back in October, I make them through Christmas Eve.”

  He looked so sad that I broke down and handed him one from the pile. I’d just have to find a way to live with eleven. “Here, have one on me. I’ve got to warn you though, they’re addicting.”

  He took a bite, then another, and as we stood there, he polished the whole doughnut off.

  “Ma’am, that was the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. I want to place a standing order with you, a dozen of those beauties every Monday morning. I don’t think I’d be able to get through the week without them now that I’ve tried one.”

  “Sony, but the smallest special-order batch I make is six dozen. As I said, I’ll be glad to sell you all you want come October.”

  I knew Millie made smaller quantities than seventy-two—I was holding one at the moment—but I kept that fact to myself, I wasn’t about to do anything to get myself put of her good graces.

  He was unfazed by her extravagant demand though. “Six dozen it is.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and a business card. “Let me know when that runs out and I’ll replace it. You can call me next Monday to let me know when I can pick up the first batch.”

  Millie didn’t know what to think, but she took the man’s money, and he was soon gone. She looked at me and said, “Harrison, I had no intention of making these for sale again this time of year.”

  “You’ve got a reason to now,” I said. “Any chance you could make a few dozen every Monday and slip some under my pillow?”

  She swatted me lightly with the towel in her hands. “You’re as bad as he is. Don’t you have a business to run?”

  I nodded. “As soon as I get a pint of milk, I’ll be out of your hair.”

  She retrieved one from, the cooler, and I said, “Thanks again; these are wonderful.” As I walked out I heard her muttering to herself, “I can’t believe that man took me up on it. What’s the world coming to?”

  I walked down to At Wick’s End and unlocked the front door. I had the best breakfast a man could ask for, and the solitude of my candleshop to enjoy them in a leisurely fashion.

  Life was looking up indeed. I ate three doughnuts, though I’d promised myself to stop at two. If I didn’t start kayaking again, and soon, I was going to have to start walking for exercise again. Being in such close proximity to Millie was definitely a detriment to my waistline.

  Eve came in twenty minutes before it was time to open, and I was glad I’d finished eating before she showed up. Though it was my candleshop, I still felt like a child in school around her sometimes.

  She sniffed the air, then said, “Harrison, have you been experimenting with scents again?”

  “I call it Pumpkin Surprise,” I said. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s a tad strong, isn’t it?” Eve wasn’t a big fan of jocularity. It was time to come clean.

  “Actually, Millie made me a special order of pumpkin doughnuts. Would you like one?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve had my breakfast, thank you very much.”

  “I’m sure it was sensible and well-balanced,” I said softly, but not softly enough.

  “Some of us have to watch our figures,” she said icily and disappeared back in the storeroom. “I’ll be doing our inventory. Surely you can handle our customers until I’m finished.” My last crack was going to cost me, but I didn’t care. It was amazing just how much better I felt after eating my favorite comfort food. I opened the front door on the dot of nine and was startled to find Mrs. Jorgenson standing in front of the shop. As I let her in, I offered to take her coat, which was soaking wet.

  “Did we have a lesson planned for to- I day?” I asked

  She shook her head. “No, but I’m in need of more supplies. I trust you can assist me.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m at your service.” As I followed her to the waxes, dyes and scents, I added, “Have you gone through your first batch already?”

  She sniffed the air. “Let’s just say I’m still unsatisfied with my results so far.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” I asked “Maybe I can help.”

  She frowned, then said, “Harrison, you know how I feel about soliciting free advice.”

  I suddenly thought about what a resource for Micah’s Ridge I had before me. “Tell you what; I’ll swap you for information. I’ll answer your questions about candlemaking, and you answer mine about who really runs Micah’s Ridge.”

  It was taking a chance, approaching her like that, and if I’d had more time to think about it, I probably would have chickened out. After all, Mrs. Jorgenson and her extravagant forays into the candlemaking world were becoming a necessity to my bottom line.

  She thought about it a full minute, then said, “You know I don’t believe in gossip, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I would never ask you anything about anyone that was of a personal nature. I’m more | concerned about who says jump and who say
s how high.”

  She nodded. “I can agree to that then, at least on principle. What would you like to know?”

  I said, “You first. What are the candles doing?”

  She looked down at her hands and said, “Actually, I’m having a difficult time getting them out of their molds.”

  “Did you use the release I sold you?”

  She said, “I used some, but the directions made me quite cautious against overusing it I do hate chemicals.”

  I said patiently, “Don’t be afraid to coat the interior. If you don’t like the spray, you can add stearin to your wax. That works like a charm. Don’t use it in rubber molds though; it eats right through them over time.”

  She said, “That sounds simple enough.” She grabbed a few blocks of wax from the shelves, some stearin, a selection of scents and dyes, then she asked, “What would you like to know?”

  “What do you know about Greg Runion?”

  She bristled slightly at the question. “Harrison, I told you I’m not a gossip.”

  “I don’t care if he wears pink ruffles at home or dances with pigs. I want to know if he’s got the sources to pull off this major development he’s planning.”

  Mrs. Jorgenson frowned. “Yes, I saw that disgraceful story in the paper this morning as well. Might I ask why you’re suddenly so interested in Greg Runion?”

  “A friend of mine has been taken in by the man, and I’m concerned about him.”

  “As well you should be,” she said gently. “You asked if he has the resources to finance his latest scheme. My guess would be no.”

  “So where’s he getting his backing? Is he using Cyrus Walters’s money?”

  “Do you know Cyrus?” Mrs. Jorgenson asked.

  “Yes, we’ve become friends. At least I thought so.”

  “Now that’s a curious comment Why do you say that?”

  “He threw me out of his house a few days ago, and when I came back to straighten things out, there was a guard posted at the front door.”

  Mrs. Jorgenson frowned, stared out the bay window in front of the shop, then said, “Harrison, you must never tell her I suggested this, but there’s only one thing to do. You must call his sister in West Virginia.”