Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [48]
“It’s a deal,” she said.
“How about that drink now?” I asked her.
“To be honest with you, what I’d really like is a cup of tea.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Now how am I supposed to get you liquored up if you won’t drink?”
“You’ll just have to rely on your charm,” she said with a laugh.
“Then I’m in trouble. I’ll put the kettle on to boil; tea sounds good to me, too.” As I did, I asked Heather, “Where’s that delinquent cat of yours? I’ve learned from experience that she causes the most trouble whenever she’s quiet.”
Heather pointed to one of the bookcases and said, “She’s watching you.”
I nodded. “I’ve been told I bear watching.”
We were just settling down to our cups of tea when there was a knock on my door. I half-expected Markum to pop his head inside.
Instead, Becka was in the hallway. “Hi, Harrison. Do you have a second?” She looked past me and saw Heather inside. “Sorry to bother you. I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Nonsense, come on in.”
Heather said, “I was just leaving, anyway.”
“You don’t have to go on my account.”
I looked at Heather and said, “You’re more than welcome to stay.”
She shook her head. “I’d really better be going, Harrison. Let me collect Esme and I’ll be on my way.”
“Are you sure you have to go?”
She looked at Becka, who was intently studying her hands, then said, “I’d better. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
She scooped Esme off the shelf, then said, “Thanks again for the tea.”
She was nearly to the door when I said, “Hey, don’t forget your candle.”
Heather took it from me, then kissed me lightly on the cheek. “That was so thoughtful of you.”
“I was happy to do it.”
Heather nodded toward Becka, then she and Esme left. She’d been gone two minutes when Becka said, “I’m sorry about just barging in like that. I didn’t realize you were dating anyone, Harrison.”
“Heather has the shop downstairs beside mine. We’re just friends.”
Becka perked up at the news, so I added quickly, “Just like the two of us are.”
“But we used to be so much more,” she said.
“The key part of that sentence is ‘used to.’”
Becka stared at me a few seconds, then said, “Are you trying to be mean, or does it just come naturally?”
Before I could say another word, she stormed off into my bathroom and slammed the door.
Now what had I said to bring that on? If she was laboring under the misimpression that we were ever going to date again, the sooner I dispelled that notion the better. I’d had more than enough of her prima donna behavior in the past to ever put up with it again.
After a few minutes, Becka came back out, acting as if nothing had happened.
I stretched and stifled a yawn. “I hate to be rude, but I’m really worn out.”
“I can take a hint as well as the next gal,” Becka said. She started to kiss my cheek, just as Heather had, then changed her mind at the last second and offered me her hand. I took it lightly, then held the door open for her.
“Good night,” I said.
“Bye,” she called out and headed down the steps to the exit.
After Becka was gone, I decided I’d had enough excitement for one night. I grabbed a quick bite, then headed off to bed to read. I worried about Pearly, with a likely arrest looming the second he got back to Micah’s Ridge. But there was nothing I could do to help him, no matter how much he needed it.
And it killed me to admit it.
Eve and I were working the morning shift together the next day when I heard the chime go off over the front door. To my surprise, it was Mrs. Jorgenson. Eve was right. I couldn’t tell from the expression on her face whether she was there to hug me or slap me with a lawsuit.
“Harrison, I’d like to speak with you.”
“Absolutely. What’s on your mind?”
She looked around the candleshop, and though we were alone except for Eve, Mrs. Jorgenson said, “I’d rather have this conversation away from the shop.”
I had no idea what that meant. “Fine. We can go to The Crocked Pot for a cup of coffee.” I started to tell Eve, but she just nodded her approval.
Mrs. Jorgenson