Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [50]
“It was called a Founder’s Day Celebration,” I said, correcting her.
“Harrison, I wouldn’t have cared if it had been dubbed the Winter Cotillion, I still wouldn’t have attended. Street fairs are not events I regularly choose as entertainment.” She took another sip of coffee, then added, “I overreacted, I admit it. You were looking for information, not slinging accusations. I’m afraid I was a bit hasty lashing out at you like that. I apologize.”
I doubted she had apologized to more than four people in the last twenty years. “We’re even, then. I shouldn’t have been so persistent questioning you. It’s a character flaw of mine.”
“There’s nothing flawed about going after what you want. I just wasn’t used to being a murder suspect in anybody’s mind.”
I finished my coffee, then said, “So we’re both sorry for the way we’ve acted lately. Where does that leave us? Do you have any interest in pursuing your candlemaking lessons with me?”
She looked startled by the question. “Yes, of course I do. That’s why I’m here.”
Finally, some good news. “That’s great. I’ve been working on some new techniques for overdipping and incising that I think you’re going to love.” I glanced at my watch. “I don’t have anything ready now, but give me an hour and I can set some things up.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to say no,” she said.
“Was there something else you wanted to study first?”
She said, “It’s not that. I just don’t have the time for anything so lengthy.” She saw my disappointment, though to be fair I hadn’t tried that hard to hide it. I not only liked the cash infusion from Mrs. Jorgenson’s lessons—they made me feel like a real candlemaker—but passing on my knowledge almost as fast as I gained it was extremely rewarding.
She looked at her watch, paused a moment, then said, “Do you have anything quick we can do? Something that won’t take long but that is still a legitimate type of candlemaking?”
“I’ve got just the thing. We can make gel candles. They aren’t hard at all, especially after what you’ve tackled so far. I’m afraid you’d be bored doing them.”
“Let me be the judge of that, young man. Lead the way.”
Chapter 13
When Mrs. Jorgenson and I walked through the door of At Wick’s End together, Eve looked as though she hadn’t expected either of us back anytime soon.
I told my student, “If you’ll go back to the classroom, I’ll be right with you.”
Mrs. Jorgenson nodded, then said, “Don’t be long. I’ve barely got time for a lesson as it is.”
“I’ll grab a kit and we’ll get started.”
She said, “No more kits, Harrison. Let’s do this one on our own, shall we?”
I nodded. “Good enough. Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready.”
After she walked back to the small classroom, I grabbed a round tub of gel wax, a handful of prewaxed wicks two inches long and half a dozen small glass containers. Eve abandoned her customer and came over to me. “What are you doing?”
“Mrs. J wants a lesson, so I thought I’d oblige her.”
“Gel candles, Harrison? Don’t you think they might be a little too easy for your expert student?”
“Hey, don’t blame me, it was her idea. Do you want to tell her she’s advanced too far to make these? Eve, they’re fun to do, and they are a legitimate way to make candles. She doesn’t have much time, so I’d better get going.”
Eve said, “Make it good, Harrison.”
I smiled. “Don’t I always? You worry too much.”
I found Mrs. Jorgenson looking through some of our bins that housed candlemaking extras. She was looking at a tray of semiprecious stones I’d bought in Hiddenite after accompanying Heather on her last crystal-buying trip there. While the rocks weren’t worth much, they made dandy candle additions, and I’d even made a few for sale with rewarding results. I said, “Grab what you like and we can use them in your candles.”
She started to choose a few stones, particularly a flawed amethyst that I liked,