At Wick's End - Tim Myers [56]
“Certainly. The more the merrier.”
The one who had acquiesced said, “This is her birthday, and she wanted to make candles.”
I said, “My most hearty congratulations, ma’am. Happy birthday.”
“It certainly has been so far,” she said with a twinkle of light in her eyes.
I led them back to the benches, and Eve took over with the practiced ease of someone who had taught the class dozens of times before. It was amazing watching her work with each of the ladies, making them feel special as we all created our own candles. I learned a great deal watching her, and not just about working with wax. Eve called each woman by her correct name from the beginning, an ability I was going to have to cultivate. I was horrible with names, forgetting them at the most embarrassing moments.
We were nearing the time to pour when Eve held up one of the baskets of shells and polished stones. “These make quite a nice accent when they are floated in your candle. You can also use chunks of colored waxes,” she said as she pointed them out. “You can even use ice. They all make lovely candles.” Eve passed around a series of poured candles she’d already made to the women, and I collected them as they finished studying the varied effects. I’d seen candles with things embedded in them before, but honestly, I’d never thought about how they’d gotten there.
Eve asked, “Harrison, would you get the ice please?”
I went back to the office and opened the tiny freezer of our small refrigerator, removing enough cubes of ice to make a small pitcher of tea.
After we prepared our candle molds and individually melted waxes with all the scents and colors we wanted, it was time to pour. I half-expected Eve to just cut everyone loose, but she insisted on one pour at a time. “Remember, this wax is approaching two hundred degrees. It will burn you if it touches your skin, so be careful.” This sobered the ladies somewhat, and it nearly scared the little girl to death.
Eve must have seen the fright in her eyes. “Kathy, would you like to go first? Don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you. You’ll do fine.”
The little girl looked unsure, and her mother was about to intervene when Eve added, “In fact, why don’t I help you pour? There’s a knack to getting it just right.”
“That would be great,” the little girl said, obviously relieved to have the burden lifted from her.
Eve picked the pitcher up with an oven mitt on her hand, had Kathy put one on herself, then wiped off the accumulated moisture from the side of the pitcher before the two of them managed to get nearly all of the wax into the mold.
The older women applauded the effort, and I clapped right along beside them as the task was completed.
“Now who wants to go next?” Eve said.
When it was finally my turn, I put a single shell into the bottom of the mold, along with one stone. Eve said, “Harrison, your items are going to be swallowed up by the wax this way. Unless you’re trying to hide them, you need to add more, and space them around the perimeter of the candle so they’ll show through.”
Kathy chuckled softly at the gentle scolding and I shared a wink and a smile with her as I put more baubles into the bottom of the mold and arranged them in a better order.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Excellent.” She glanced into my brightly blue-toned wax and said, “We can dilute that somewhat with more wax. It’s rather strong.”
“I wanted something bold,” I said.
“It’s your candle,” she said, so I made my pour.
“Now what happens?” Kathy’s mother asked. “Can we take them with us tonight?”
“Harrison and I still need to add a little more to each after the wax settles, then they need a day to cool completely. If someone wishes to come by at closing tomorrow! they will be ready. Thanks again for coming, and Happy Birthday.”
“That was absolutely delightful,” the matriarch said “Now Kathy,” she said, taking her great-granddaughter’s hand, “why don’t we go back home and have a touch more cake.”
“Mother, you’re spoiling her,” Kathy’s mother said.
“That’s my job.”
“And how well you do it. You two will have to