Read Snuffed Out (Book 2 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) for Free Online

by
accident,” she said as she flipped it back.
    “ No, I thought I’d get a
jump on things,” I said as I set it back.
    “ We never opened early,” Eve
said with a snort. “Belle always said if we did, soon enough folks
would expect it every day.”
    “ Well, I don’t think one day
is going to start any bad trends, one way or another. Chances are
nobody’s going to show up early anyway. I just felt like opening.
Eve, did you ever used to work the store by yourself, or was Belle
here every second the store was open?”
    “ Goodness no, she took a day
off now and then. She said she had to or she’d go stir
crazy.”
    “ I’m getting a little antsy
myself,” I admitted. “I haven’t missed a minute of work since I
took over, and it’s starting to get to me. I’m thinking about
cutting out at four, if you wouldn’t mind.”
    “ Mind? Why should I mind,
Harrison? It’s your shop, after all. I’ll be fine on my
own.”
    She sounded almost eager to get me out of
there, but I wasn’t going to push it. Eve could probably use the
space as much as I could. Though she’d been a godsend teaching me
about candles, I was certain she longed for a little quiet time at
work just waiting on customers and not educating her new boss.
     
    I was just getting ready to grab some lunch
when Mrs. Jorgenson walked into At Wick’s End.
    “ Good morning,” she said
brusquely. “I assume you’re ready for me.”
    I nodded, too surprised to say a word. So
she’d come back after all. Eve started to greet her, caught one
look at the expression on her face and stepped back into the
storeroom where she’d been preparing an order.
    I’d never gotten around to cleaning up from
the day before, so the table looked as if I’d set it out fresh just
for her. Before I could say a word, Mrs. Jorgenson said, “I must
apologize for my behavior yesterday. I didn’t realize until I
arrived at the store that our lesson wasn’t until today. I must
have written it down wrong in my book. I’ve been doing that more
and more lately. Too much on my mind, I suppose.”
    “ No harm done,” I said,
ready to accept her fabrication if it meant keeping her coming
back. “So, are you ready to get started learning a new technique
today?”
    “ I’m quite excited,
actually,” she said. “How do we begin?”
    I got out an old shoebox and handed her a
hammer and screwdriver, along with a hefty block of translucent
wax. She asked, “What happened to the plastic bags?”
    “ This system works a lot
better,” I said. I’d stumbled across it in one of my books and had
found it to be much more effective than using a plastic bag to
break up the wax in. “Chisel off small chunks,” I ordered as I went
over my supplies again. Mrs. J took the safety glasses and slid
them into place, then attacked the wax with glee. She was enjoying
it a little too much, and I realized she was getting out a lot of
aggression. Good for her; it was the cheapest therapy I’d ever
heard of.
    When she had enough wax chipped off the main
body, I stopped her, but not until she’d given it a few extra
whacks. I pulled out what remained of the block and broke up a few
of the larger chunks, then slid the fragments into the double
boiler.
    As the wax started to melt, I asked, “Would
you like to add color and fragrance, or will we be making the
economy model today?”
    “ Harrison, you know I always
start with the basics. What do we do next?”
    I measured out some wick and said, “The
first few times it might be better to do single tapers, just until
you get the hang of it.” I’d laid out some of my earlier efforts
and showed her what I’d done. She picked up a few of the singles,
then examined a double I’d done in beeswax. I could tell she wanted
to jump a few steps, something I would have been delighted to do,
but her analytical approach held fast as she put the candles back
on the tabletop.
    “ Where do we
begin?”
    I peered inside the double boiler, then
said,