by Tim Myers
Chapter 12
“I didn’t realize you were still around,” I said to Heather after she let me into her shop.
“I had some cleaning to do,” she said, looking toward the back of her store, The New Age. At that moment, we both heard something fall.
“Is there somebody back there?” I asked. “Or is it just Esmeralda?”
“It must be,” she said. “Wait right here and I’ll go get her. I know she’ll be thrilled to see you.”
“How would we be able to tell?” I asked. “She’s never shown the slightest interest in whether I’m around or not, unless it’s mealtime and I’m the one feeding her.”
“Come on, Harrison, admit it. You and my cat have a special bond.”
“Heather, if it helps you sleep better at night believing it, good for you.” I started toward the back of the store when Esme herself trotted out. Proving my point, she ignored me completely and leapt into Heather’s arms.
I added, “Oh, she’s absolutely devoted to me. You were right all along.” I reached out slowly, then scratched Esmeralda under her chin. She purred softly, moving her neck until I had the precise spot she wanted. She would have probably stayed like that for the rest of the night, but I wasn’t going to spend it catering to her whims.
Heather said, “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re afraid to express any affection for my cat.”
I looked directly at Esmeralda and said to her, “You’re not the worst roommate I’ve ever had in my life.”
Heather laughed, then said, “See, Esme? He does care.”
Esmeralda seemed singularly unimpressed by it all.
It was time to change this particular subject. “Are you finished up here, or do you have much more to do? I could help, if you need a hand.”
“You spend too much time around the complex as it is. You deserve a life of your own, Harrison.”
“Yeah, well, that’s open for debate. So what do you say? If we both dig in, we can have your cleaning done in half the time.”
She frowned, then said, “You know what? There’s nothing that needs to be done here that can’t wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you buy me a drink?”
“I guess I could.”
“Gee, your enthusiasm is underwhelming.”
“I was just thinking we could go upstairs instead. I’ve got some wine chilling in the fridge, and there’s beer if you prefer that.”
She said, “Harrison Black, are you trying to take advantage of me, say, by plying me with alcohol?”
“No, Ma’am, I’m a Southern Gentleman. If you’re not in the mood to be plied, I won’t try. I promise.”
She laughed, then said, “Just in case, I think I’ll bring Esmeralda along as our chaperone.”
“That’s a dandy idea. You can never be too careful these days.”
After locking up her store, we headed upstairs and I opened my apartment door. Esme squirmed out of Heather’s arms and ran inside. I called out, “Don’t get too comfortable, you’re not staying over this time.”
What a surprise; Esme ignored me completely.
Heather looked around and said, “I just love what you’ve done with the place. Honestly, Harrison, don’t you ever get tired of candles? They’re everywhere.”
I looked around at the candles scattered through the apartment. There were botched and more successful attempts of mine on display from more experiments than I could name. I’d managed to butcher techniques in pouring, rolling, gelling, dripping, molding, flaring, twisting, marbling and incising candles in my attempts to perfect my newfound trade. I was in the process of burning my failures; it gave me real satisfaction that even if some of my efforts weren’t the most beautiful candles ever made, they still gave off light, and in many cases, aromas that brought back memories I’d thought I’d lost long ago. “I don’t know, I think it looks just about right.”
She laughed and asked as she picked up one of my latest efforts, “What happened here? Did you run out of wax?”
I plucked the candle out of her hands. “Hey, that’s one of my better ice candles.”
“Candles and ice? You’re kidding, right?”
“Trust me, this is really a cool process. You take a dipped taper and put it in the center of a cylindrical mold. Then you arrange the ice chips in the mold around it and pour the hot wax in. It’s not nearly as tough as it looks.”
“So you say,” Heather said.
“It’s the truth,” I said. “Take it, burn it, enjoy it.” After all, I’d given Millie a candle earlier. One of the best things about making candles was sharing them with the people around me. Heather didn’t even put up token resistance. “I love it, but it’s too pretty to burn.”
“Candles are meant to be enjoyed. Tell you what. You burn this one, and next time I’ll teach you how to make one of your own.”
“It’s a deal,” she said.
“How about that drink now?” I asked her.
“To be honest with you, what I’d really like is a cup of tea.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Now how am I supposed to get you liquored up if you won’t drink?”
“You’ll just have to rely on your charm,” she said with a laugh.
“Then I’m in trouble. I’ll put the kettle on to boil; tea sounds good to me, too.” As I did, I asked Heather, “Where’s that delinquent cat of yours? I’ve learned from experience that she causes the most trouble whenever she’s quiet.”
Heather pointed to one of the bookcases and said, “She’s watching you.”
I nodded. “I’ve been told I bear watching.”
We were just settling down to our cups of tea when there was a knock on my door. I half-expected Markum to pop his head inside.
Instead, Becka was in the hallway. “Hi, Harrison. Do you have a second?” She looked past me and saw Heather inside. “Sorry to bother you. I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Nonsense, come on in.”
Heather said, “I was just leaving, anyway.”
“You don’t have to go on my account.”
I looked at Heather and said, “You’re more than welcome to stay.”
She shook her head. “I’d really better be going, Harrison. Let me collect Esme and I’ll be on my way.”
“Are you sure you have to go?”
She looked at Becka, who was intently studying her hands, then said, “I’d better. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
She scooped Esme off the shelf, then said, “Thanks again for the tea.”
She was nearly to the door when I said, “Hey, don’t forget your candle.”
Heather took it from me, then kissed me lightly on the cheek. “That was so thoughtful of you.”
“I was happy to do it.”
Heather nodded toward Becka, then she and Esme left. She’d been gone two minutes when Becka said, “I’m sorry about just barging in like that. I didn’t realize you were dating anyone, Harrison.”
“Heather has the shop downstairs beside mine. We’re just friends.”
Becka perked up at the news, so I added quickly, “Just like the two of us are.”
“But we used to be so much more,” she said.
“The key part of that sentence is ‘used to.’”
Becka stared at me a few seconds, then said, “Are you trying to be mean, or does it just come naturally?”
Before I could say another word, she stormed off into my bathroom and slammed the door.
Now what had I said to bring that on? If she was laboring under the misimpression that we were ever going to date again, the sooner I dispelled that notion the better. I’d had more than enough of her prima donna behavior in the past to ever put up with it again.
After a few minutes, Becka came back out, acting as if nothing had happened.
I stretched and stifled a yawn. “I hate to be rude, but I’m really worn out.”
“I can take a hint as well as the next gal,” Becka said. She started to kiss my cheek, just as Heather had, then changed her
mind at the last second and offered me her hand. I took it lightly, then held the door open for her.
“Good night,” I said.
“Bye,” she called out and headed down the steps to the exit.
After Becka was gone, I decided I’d had enough excitement for one night. I grabbed a quick bite, then headed off to bed to read. I worried about Pearly, with a likely arrest looming the second he got back to Micah’s Ridge. But there was nothing I could do to help him, no matter how much he needed it.
And it killed me to admit it.
Eve and I were working the morning shift together the next day when I heard the chime go off over the front door. To my surprise, it was Mrs. Jorgenson. Eve was right. I couldn’t tell from the expression on her face whether she was there to hug me or slap me with a lawsuit.
“Harrison, I’d like to speak with you.”
“Absolutely. What’s on your mind?”
She looked around the candleshop, and though we were alone except for Eve, Mrs. Jorgenson said, “I’d rather have this conversation away from the shop.”
I had no idea what that meant. “Fine. We can go to The Crocked Pot for a cup of coffee.” I started to tell Eve, but she just nodded her approval.
Mrs. Jorgenson said, “I’m sure it will be acceptable.”
We walked outside and down the front promenade toward Millie’s place. The wind was gusting slightly, just enough to raise some of the flags displayed in front of the shops. I’d found a flag place going out of business and had bought several themed flags for my tenants. There was a single white candle on a field of red in front of my shop, while Millie’s had a coffee cup, Sanora’s pottery sported a vase and Suzanne Gladstone’s antique shop had a rocking chair on it. Heather’s had been a problem, but I’d finally settled on a brightly colored rainbow for her. She’d been delighted with the choice, and I had to admit, the banners waving in the wind did give all of River’s Edge more of a whimsical look. I’d thought about it for some time before making any changes to my late Great-Aunt Belle’s place, but in the end I was the one responsible for how the complex looked, and if something would help in any way, I was all for it as long as I could afford it.
If Mrs. Jorgenson noticed the banners, or anything else that morning, she didn’t say.
“What would you like?” Millie asked Mrs. Jorgenson when we walked into the cafe.
“Something more mundane than your exotic choices,” she said, studying the menu.
“I’ll take care of this,” I said. “Why don’t you find us a table and I’ll be right with you.”
Mrs. Jorgenson found a spot away from the few customers already there. She was serious about keeping our conversation private.
Millie looked expectantly at me, so I ordered two plain coffees. As she filled the order, she said, “She’s lovely, Harrison, honestly she is, but I think you can do better. She’s awfully old for you, isn’t she?”
I whispered, “This isn’t a date, you nit. That’s Mrs. Jorgenson.”
Millie had heard all about the craft queen benefactress. “So that’s Mrs. J in the flesh. I take it you’ve managed to bring her back into your fold?”
“I have no idea. That’s why we’re here.”
Millie added a small plate and put two biscotti on it.
“Hey, I didn’t order these.”
“They’re on the house. Maybe they’ll loosen her up.”
“It’s going to take a lot more than that,” I whispered. I carried the coffees and cookies to the table and slid one mug in front of Mrs. Jorgenson. She looked at the plate for a moment, then said, “I didn’t ask for this.”
“It’s on the house,” I said.
Still staring at the plate, she said, “I don’t approve of dessert.”
“I do,” I said. “So it’s no problem. I’ll eat them both. Now what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Blunt, direct and to the point. I see this ordeal hasn’t changed your basic personality traits.”
“Mrs. Jorgenson, I’ve tried to be charming with you. It didn’t work, remember? Seriously, though, I would like to know why you’re here, especially after your man Jeeves slammed the door in my face.”
Was that the crack of a smile I saw? I couldn’t be certain; it had vanished too quickly. She said, “His name’s Henderson, actually, and he’s quite important to me.”
“I’m happy for you both. I know one thing: he certainly keeps the riffraff away. I just didn’t realize that included me.”
Mrs. Jorgenson frowned at me, then at her coffee, then back at me. “I knew this was going to be difficult. However, I didn’t realize you’d be exacerbating the situation.”
She was right. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be good. I promise.”
She took a sip of her coffee, smiled in a surprised way, then said, “First of all, I believe I owe you an apology.”
“I owe you one too, so I guess that makes us even.”
She raised an eyebrow pointedly, then said, “Would you please let me finish?”
I nodded, and somehow managed to keep my mouth shut.
She continued, “I never should have reacted the way I did with you. Was I frustrated that the sale of those buildings was scuttled because of that woman’s stubbornness? Absolutely. She was never supposed to have a chance to purchase that property in the first place. I’d put a preemptive bid with the previous owner, but it appeared that Mrs. Barnett was more persuasive than I was with him. But in all honesty, I wasn’t even inconvenienced by her balking on the deal. That property’s in a prime location. By waiting, it might actually result in a higher profit for me and the other owners. I certainly didn’t shoot anyone, particularly at something called a Founder’s Day Fair.”
“It was called a Founder’s Day Celebration,” I said, correcting her.
“Harrison, I wouldn’t have cared if it had been dubbed the Winter Cotillion, I still wouldn’t have attended. Street fairs are not events I regularly choose as entertainment.” She took another sip of coffee, then added, “I overreacted, I admit it. You were looking for information, not slinging accusations. I’m afraid I was a bit hasty lashing out at you like that. I apologize.”
I doubted she had apologized to more than four people in the last twenty years. “We’re even, then. I shouldn’t have been so persistent questioning you. It’s a character flaw of mine.”
“There’s nothing flawed about going after what you want. I just wasn’t used to being a murder suspect in anybody’s mind.”
I finished my coffee, then said, “So we’re both sorry for the way we’ve acted lately. Where does that leave us? Do you have any interest in pursuing your candlemaking lessons with me?”
She looked startled by the question. “Yes, of course I do. That’s why I’m here.”
Finally, some good news. “That’s great. I’ve been working on some new techniques for overdipping and incising that I think you’re going to love.” I glanced at my watch. “I don’t have anything ready now, but give me an hour and I can set some things up.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to say no,” she said.
“Was there something else you wanted to study first?”
She said, “It’s not that. I just don’t have the time for anything so lengthy.” She saw my disappointment, though to be fair I hadn’t tried that hard to hide it. I not only liked the cash infusion from Mrs. Jorgenson’s lessons—they made me feel like a real candlemaker—but passing on my knowledge almost as fast as I gained it was extremely rewarding.
She looked at her watch, paused a moment, then said, “Do you have anything quick we can do? Something that won’t take long but that is still a legitimate type of candlemaking?”
“I’ve got just the thing. We can make gel candles. They aren’t hard at all, especially after what you’ve tackled so far. I’m afraid you’d be bored doing them.”
“Let me be the judge of that, young man. Lead the way.”
Chapter 13
When Mrs.
Jorgenson and I walked through the door of At Wick’s End together, Eve looked as though she hadn’t expected either of us back anytime soon.
I told my student, “If you’ll go back to the classroom, I’ll be right with you.”
Mrs. Jorgenson nodded, then said, “Don’t be long. I’ve barely got time for a lesson as it is.”
“I’ll grab a kit and we’ll get started.”
She said, “No more kits, Harrison. Let’s do this one on our own, shall we?”
I nodded. “Good enough. Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready.”
After she walked back to the small classroom, I grabbed a round tub of gel wax, a handful of prewaxed wicks two inches long and half a dozen small glass containers. Eve abandoned her customer and came over to me. “What are you doing?”
“Mrs. J wants a lesson, so I thought I’d oblige her.”
“Gel candles, Harrison? Don’t you think they might be a little too easy for your expert student?”
“Hey, don’t blame me, it was her idea. Do you want to tell her she’s advanced too far to make these? Eve, they’re fun to do, and they are a legitimate way to make candles. She doesn’t have much time, so I’d better get going.”
Eve said, “Make it good, Harrison.”
I smiled. “Don’t I always? You worry too much.”
I found Mrs. Jorgenson looking through some of our bins that housed candlemaking extras. She was looking at a tray of semiprecious stones I’d bought in Hiddenite after accompanying Heather on her last crystal-buying trip there. While the rocks weren’t worth much, they made dandy candle additions, and I’d even made a few for sale with rewarding results. I said, “Grab what you like and we can use them in your candles.”
She started to choose a few stones, particularly a flawed amethyst that I liked, then put them back. “You know I don’t like to add things to my candles until I’ve learned the basic techniques.”
“Well, this is pretty straightforward. We melt the gel we need, then arrange our accessories and pour in the wax.”
“That’s all?” she asked.
“You can make it much more complicated. I’ve made some sea floor scenes with sand and shells, and I made one with a light blue tint and added tiny airplanes for a birthday party. It’s fun, you’ll like it.” I added, “Hang on a second, let me get you a few of my examples.”