At Wick's End - Tim Myers [37]
I felt a burden lift as we moved on to a discussion about the best way to pour candles, a technique I was very eager to learn. If I was being honest with myself, I was more concerned about telling Eve what I’d done than losing all that cash.
Eve said, “Well, why don’t we straighten up the store and get ready for our customers?”
“I’m all for that,” I said.
As we put away the books and supplies that I’d pulled out from our inventory to study, I said in passing, “By the way, somebody broke into the lockers upstairs last night and wrecked the whole communal room.”
Eye dropped the tin candle mold she was holding, and it clattered to the floor. “Oh, no,” she said, looking paler than I’d ever seen her.
“There’s nothing that you can do now,” I said. “Heather and I cleaned everything up after we discovered what had happened. She even washed the soiled clothes. I’m afraid some of the spilled perfume and aftershave got on them during the break-in. They’re all sitting on the table, neat and pressed and ready to claim, if you had any clothes in your locker.” We had placed the other miscellaneous items we’d been able to salvage on the table as well. A couple of
things had to be thrown away, but there were surprisingly few items that were totally lost.
Eve nearly knocked me into a shelf as she brushed past me heading for the front door. I understood why she was so upset. It’s a violation when someone paws through your things, an offense much more serious than a few broken bottles and a pile of soiled clothes. The thief takes your sense of security from you, and that’s a much more terrible crime than mere property loss.
When she returned ten minutes later, Eve had a frightened look about her.
“What is it,” I asked, concerned that something else may have happened to her.
“Harrison, this used to be such a safe place,” she said.
“And it will be again,” I said, trying to soothe her. “The sheriff believes that what happened upstairs was just a random act of violence.” I didn’t add that I was of a different opinion entirely, since I was trying to ease her mind, not add to her worries.
Eve said, “Harrison, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to work today,” as she grabbed her coat.
“I can’t do this without you,” I said. Surely she was overreacting, but what could I do? I couldn’t very well chain her to the cash register to make her stay.
“Close up then. I can’t stay here, not today.”
As she reached for the door, I said, “You’re coming back tomorrow, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer as she bolted out, slamming the door behind her.
I couldn’t help wondering if the break-in had truly thrown her into such a panic, or if someone might have found something in her particular locker that she hadn’t wanted discovered.
I went so far as to make up a closed sign for the front door when I decided to try running At Wick’s End by myself. What was the worst thing that could happen; I wouldn’t be able to help a customer? So, they could come back another day and Eve could help them, if she showed up. It was my store, blast it all, and I wasn’t about to let anything stand between me and my customers. If they went to all the trouble of coming down to River’s Edge, then the least I could do was keep my store open for them. I knew how complicated candlemaking could be, I’d read just enough to realize how much I didn’t know about the operation, but I’d do my best and above all, I’d be honest with whoever walked through my door. I hadn’t overtly lied to Mrs. Jorgenson, but I hadn’t done anything to correct her mistaken belief that I was some kind of candlemaking wizard, either. I wish I could have believed somewhere in my heart that the threat to the candle shop’s bottom line had nothing to do with the decision to keep my novice status to myself, but I couldn’t begin to justify that stand.
I tore the homemade sign up, threw the pieces into the trash can, and turned on all the lights. At Wick’s End was open for business.
Whether I was