Snuffed Out - Tim Myers [14]
I handed her a piece of number-one wick and said, “Dip away. Just remember, use quick even dips, then give the wax a chance to cool between immersions, and you’ll have a candle in no time.”
By the tenth dip, she barely had any wax on her wick at all. “How long does this process take?”
It had never taken me more than three or four dips to get some kind of buildup on the wick. Something had gone wrong. I thought about all I’d read, then realized the wax was probably too hot.
“Tell you what,” I said matter-of-factly, “Let’s allow it to cool a little first.”
“The wax on my wick, or what’s in there?”
“Both,” I said.
We waited a few minutes and I decided to test it with a piece of wick of my own. After three dips, along with a little waiting time between immersions for cooling, I had the beginnings of a taper.
“Now why can’t I do that?” Mrs. Jorgenson asked impatiently.
“It’s all yours,” I said.
After a few minutes, she had a thin taper herself, one of frosty white wax. “Why, it looks just like a miniature icicle.” The delight in her voice was impossible to miss.
“You’re a natural,” I said as she continued to dip. Before too long, she had a fine, stout taper and announced that it was complete. Before I could say a word, she said, “I’d like to do another.”
I looked into the container and saw that we had plenty of wax left. She took the offered wick and began dipping it immediately. After Mrs. Jorgenson was into making her fourth candle, she said, “What’s wrong with the wax now?”
I looked and saw that there was a skim coat of wax forming on top. “It’s supposed to do that. It’s starting to cool.”
She nodded, but continued to dip.
I said, “You really should stop now. It’s not fit for dipping.”
“Nonsense. I want to experiment.” As the wax began to congeal, she picked up lumps of it onto her candle. The shape was exotic and not altogether unattractive. “There, it’s perfect,” she announced, and I had to admit she’d been right.
“Do I have to let these cool overnight?” she said, eyeing her creations with joy.
“No, ma’am, as soon as they cool to the touch, they’re ready to go. Give them another ten or fifteen minutes and they’ll be set.”
“Excellent,” she said. “That will give me time to gather my supplies. Aren’t you coming?”
“I’m right behind you,” I said, happy that she’d come back for reasons more than her money. In Mrs. Jorgenson I had a true kindred spirit in wax. On the surface, we had nothing in common. She was a rich, older widow with time on her hands, and I was a fairly young man doing everything I could to keep my head above water. But when we were working on candles, we were two of a kind.
After picking out our nicest double broiler and dipping can, Mrs. J added more wax to her substantial collection, along with a thick roll of wick and a wide variety of colors and scents. “I can’t wait for our next lesson. Do you have anything special in mind?”
“There are a lot of things we can do with dipping candles,” I said. “Next week we’ll experiment.”
She signed the substantial receipt and was humming gladly as she walked out of the store.
“Miracles really do happen,” Eve said after Mrs. Jorgenson was gone. “I never believed she would come back.”
“I’d like to say it was my charm, but she said she thought she’d written down the wrong day for our lesson.”
Eve snorted. “Don’t you believe that for one second. She’s too sharp to do that. No, I’m guessing that little story was her way to save face. She’s got the candle bug, and she’s got it bad, Harrison.”
“I can’t blame her, I’ve got it myself.” Suddenly I didn’t feel guilty about taking the evening off anymore at all. “Tell you what, as soon as you get back from lunch, I’m going to call it a day.”
Eve nodded. “I think that’s a splendid idea. I shan’t be long.”
She was as good as her word, back in nineteen minutes from the beginning of her hour break. When I tried to protest that she had more time, Eve shooed me out of my own store. “Go now, there’s a whole world