Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [1]
My Great-Aunt had also left me Eve, an older, dour, heavyset woman with a knack for candlemaking and a disposition that forced me to tiptoe around my own business most of the time. She was my erstwhile assistant and would-be candlemaking conscience, and little by little, we were finding a way to work together.
We weren’t there yet, though. She took the news about like I’d expected. “Harrison Black, I’ve told you before that we never bothered with that fair. Belle and I didn’t believe the return on our investment would be worth the trouble and the expense.”
“We’re not doing it for the profit,” I said. “At least not strictly for that,” I added, knowing that the bottom line was crucial to keeping my shop afloat.
“Then why put ourselves through it?” she asked.
“With the new candleshop opening in town, we need to make our presence felt. Let’s face it, we’re probably going to lose some customers, and they have to be replaced.” Flickering Lights—our new competition in the form of a candle franchise that covered the world—was about to open a store in Micah’s Ridge. Located in the revitalized downtown business district, it was declaring itself an upscale version of At Wick’s End all over town. The owner was named Gretel Barnett, a no-nonsense older woman with stylish silver hair and a trim waistline. She had introduced herself a month before opening her shop, coming into At Wick’s End, studying the place with a sharp eye, then declaring her intention to open a candle franchise of her own. At least no one could say she had skulked into town. I didn’t like being portrayed as the thrift version of candleshops in the area, but so far I hadn’t been able to do anything about it. The Founder’s Day Celebration was my chance to make a statement of my own, and I wasn’t about to let it slip by.
“Do you honestly think it will help our sales here enough to matter?” Eve asked.
“It will increase our profile locally, since New Conover’s not that far away, and I’d say that’s pretty important. You told me when I first came to At Wick’s End that you and Belle used to do these street fairs all the time.”
“It was always more your Great-Aunt’s desire than mine.”
It was pretty obvious the direction our conversation was taking, and there was no way I was going to endure an entire day at the fair listening to her litany of complaints. Inspiration suddenly struck. “Eve, you don’t have to go. You can keep the store open while I’m there.”
“You can’t run a booth by yourself, Harrison.”
There was no way I was giving in that easily. “I’ll get Heather to watch it for me if I need to step away for a minute or two. We’re setting up side by side.” Heather Bane ran The New Age, her self-described serenity shop filled with things like crystals and personal pyramids. Heather’s place was right next door to my candleshop at River’s Edge, and she was participating in the fair as well.
Eve huffed once, then said, “I don’t suppose there’s any way to talk you out of this, is there? Very well, if you insist, I’ll help you do it correctly.”
“You know, I think this way is actually better,” I said. “We might even make a profit if you stay here and keep