Snuffed Out - Tim Myers [26]
“That’s beyond my talent as of yet. My Great-Aunt Belle did. At Wick’s End was hers before I inherited it.”
“She was wonderful, wasn’t she?” Erin said, studying the piece.
“In more than just her candlemaking,” I said.
Erin nodded, then we walked through the shelves until we reached the classroom in back.
“Is this where you actually make them?”
“It is. We teach classes, too.” I picked up one of the braided candles I’d just made and handed it to her.
She asked, “Is this another one of Belle’s creations? It’s absolutely beautiful.”
I smiled. “That happens to be one of mine. I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it, but it looks a little complex for me. What’s the easiest way to start making candles?”
I led her to the shelves with packets of sheet wax and wicks, ready for rolling. “These are fun, easy, and they burn great. It’s a wonderful place to start.”
“I’ll take one.” She studied the packet, then said, “I was going to ask for a lesson, but this says the instructions are inside.”
I shrugged. “I’d be happy to supplement them, if you’re interested. Strictly teacher to student.”
She thought about it a second or two, then said, “Why don’t I try my hand at this myself and see how I do? What do I owe you?”
“I’ve got an idea,” I said as I took the packet from her and grabbed a bag. “Why don’t we barter? You come by for candle supplies, and I’ll grab a kayak now and then.”
“I’m all about bartering,” she said enthusiastically. “My hairdresser loves to canoe with her boyfriend, so we trade, too.”
I wrapped the braided candle she’d admired and slipped it into the bag as well.
She asked, “Hey, why did you do that? All I expected was the kit.”
“These are on the house. I can always make more.”
“Are you sure? That’s awfully generous of you.”
“I’m positive.”
She took the bag, then said, “Thank you, kind sir, I do appreciate that. I’ll burn it tonight.” She thought about it a second, then added, “That’s kind of tacky of me, isn’t it? You probably like them to be displayed, don’t you?”
“Candles are made for burning. I’ve got a friend who bakes, and she’d be insulted if you didn’t actually eat her creations.”
Erin nodded, then lingered by the register. She read aloud the week’s quote I’d printed out and posted the day before.
“‘My candle burns at both ends; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—it gives a lovely light.’ I know that one. She’s one of my favorites.”
“Put the poet’s name on a slip of paper and you’ll be eligible for the drawing.” I’d started the candle-quote contest the week before, and Eve had been amazed how many of our regulars had taken the chance to win a ten-dollar gift certificate to the shop.
I saw Erin write “Edna St. Vincent Millay” on the paper, and she even added “A Few Figs from Thistles” on it. She was right on the money.
“I put my phone number on there, too,” she said.
“That’s great. Good luck. I’ll call you if you’re the winner.”
She frowned a second, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks again for the tour, Harrison.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know how your candles turn out.”
“I will.” Erin lingered at the door a moment, then watched as I locked up behind her. I’d been tempted to ask her out, but my rule was firm. I’d asked her once, and she’d declined. If she was interested in anything else, it was going to be up to her. I didn’t have all that much time in my life for dating anyway, not with running At Wick’s End and trying to keep River’s Edge afloat as well, and my ego could only take so much rejection. Still, she’d given me her phone number, that was something.
I made out the deposit for the day and was locking the front door when I remembered the power cord I’d cut off Aaron’s pottery wheel. After slipping it into one of our bags, I locked up again and headed to the bank for my nightly deposit. I’d lost a deposit once because of my carelessness, but it had taken only one time to teach me that particular lesson. I drove to the bank, thought about grabbing