At Wick's End - Tim Myers [41]
I grabbed another batch of various colored wax sheets I’d retrieved from the storeroom and ripped the packs open.
As I fanned the sheets out on the table, I said, “There are several ways you can do this. Cut-outs all from the same color look nice, but complementary colors are attractive, too. Why don’t you cut six pieces of the same shape and we’ll make a candle with them.”
Mrs. Jorgenson opted for a maple leaf cutter and quickly cut out six leafy imprints.
“Now measure out your wick, put it between two leaves, then keep sandwiching the cut-outs evenly. Your goal here is to keep the wick in the center of the candle.”
She did as she was told, then delicately pressed them all together.
“That was easy,” she said as the leaf-candle fell apart, the wick lying on the table like a discarded string.
“What happened?” she asked, studying the fallen sections.
Fortunately, my first cut-out candle had done the same thing, so I knew just what to do. “Put it all back together, press firmly this time, then we’ll try adding a little heat.”
I took a blow-dryer out of one of the cabinets and gave the leaf a good blast of heated air around the edges after she reassembled it. “Pinch the edges together like this. It gives the candle a more rounded look.” It held together this time, and Mrs. Jorgenson looked pleased with the results.
“I’d like to do another one on my own now.”
She chose a club shape from one of the card cutters and opted for a lavender wax. This attempt was a great improvement over the last, and by the time our session was over, she’d made nine different shapes and seven rolled candles.
I collected them for her, carefully wrapping each candle individually before placing it in her bag. I still couldn’t tell from her expression or demeanor whether she had enjoyed the process or not. It was possible my star student had taken her first and last lesson all at the same time.
As we walked out to the cash register, Mrs. Jorgenson waved a hand at Eve and said, “I need a selection of colors from your stock of sheet wax. Let’s say three packs of each.”
“We have sixteen colors in stock,” Eve said.
Mrs. Jorgenson thought about it a moment, then said, “Is that all? We’d better make it six packs of each then, I have a great deal of work ahead of me.” She frowned, then added, “I just had a thought. I’ll need three sets of every cutter you have in stock.”
I was standing just behind her. “You only need one set of cutters.”
Eve shot me a dirty look as Mrs. Jorgenson turned to me and said, “I’ve decided to give two sets to my nieces as presents.” While Eve disappeared into the storeroom to put the order together, Mrs. Jorgenson handed me her credit card. “Why don’t you handle the billing while we wait?”
I totaled up her bill including the merchandise Eve was collecting and the supplies we’d used in our lesson today. Before I ran it through our system, I said, “Excuse me a moment, would you?”
“Certainly,” she said. “That will give me the opportunity to browse a little.”
I found Eve quickly going through the boxes in the storeroom, making up Mrs. Jorgenson’s order.
She brushed a wisp of hair out of her face. “Is something wrong? Did she change her mind?”
“Keep pulling stock,” I said as I helped her with a heavier box off the top shelf. A wave of anxiety ran through me when I realized I was standing on the exact spot where Belle’s body had been discovered, but I fought it back.
“Why are you here, then? I can handle this, Harrison. Honestly, you shouldn’t leave her out there alone. She might leave.”
“Right now I doubt I could get her out of the store with a crowbar; that woman’s got the candlemaking fever worse than I do. I need to know what we charge for private lessons,” I said.
Eve said, “I haven’t a clue. I know what the group I lessons run, but we’ve never had an individual demand personal instruction before.”
“Let’s double the