Page 16 of The Candlemaker

Fate was a troublemaker…but so was I.

Chapter Four

Chandler

Haunted.

The word echoed with every ring of the call.

“Hey, Chandler,” Tom answered. “How’s it going up there?”

“Haunted.” For all the years I’d been involved in this business, this was one conversation I’d never had to have.

“Excuse me? Are you on your way to Edgewood? The service out there can be spotty. I could’ve sworn you said?—”

“Haunted,” I repeated and forced out an exhale. “Apparently, the inn is haunted.”

“Well. That’s certainly…interesting.”

My grip tightened on the wheel, midday sunlight splattering through the shroud of aged trees onto the drive, shadows hanging like ghosts from their branches.

“None of the buyers said anything about it? No one when you were up here mentioned?—”

“Of course not. I can employ a certain amount of discretionwhen I tell you things, but I wouldn’t have held something like that back,” he said firmly. “No one ever even hinted that the reason they were no longer interested was…paranormal.”

“Dammit,” I muttered.

I sped down the long, tree-shaded lane toward the Edgewood Estate. Nestled in the woods and pitted against the peaceful placidity of the thoughtfully named South Pond, the old colonial mansion had been transformed into an assisted-living home. One that cost an arm, a leg, a firstborn, and an entire bitcoin to reside at—a price I would happily pay ten times over for my mom.

Laura Collins had been the mom everyone wanted. Thoughtful. Caring. Kind. She’d bent over backward when I was younger, doing more than she needed to—more than seemed humanly possible—to make up for a mistake that hadn’t been hers. She didn’t want me to feel any kind of deficit, having only one parent in my life, and I never did.Only anger at the man who’d put her in that position in the first place.

“Chandler, now, I’m not going to make claims about spirits or the afterlife, but that inn isn’t haunted. I stayed there when it was open; there was never any mention of ghosts.” Tom sounded—for lack of a better word—flabbergasted, and that was a considerable feat for a man who retained an admirable degree of control over himself.

“I know it’s not haunted, Tom,” I grunted.Notafucking chance.

I’d been there. Stood in front of it today. The massive stone facade. Generous, paned windows. Wrought-iron sconces and lamps. For a second, I’d stepped back into colonial times, in awe of the character of the building that couldn’t be dulled even after decades of disuse. It might be old. Run down. But it sure as shit wasn’t haunted.

“Who did you hear this from?”

My body hummed tight.A coy candlemaker.

“A local shop owner.”

“Well, they have to be mistaken.” I could practically hear him shake his head and then scratch the back of his nape, perplexed.

“I’m going to look into it,” I said, full well knowing I was going to do more than just look. There was something in her eyes—something when she’d told me about Revolutionary War ghosts—that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. And it was something that—for lack of a better word—hauntedme.“I just needed to know if you’d heard anything along the same lines?—”

“No. Not a word.”

“Right.” I breathed out and let off the gas as I approached the last corner of the drive. “I’m almost at Edgewood and will probably lose you.”

“All right, I’ll see if I can dig up anything.” He sighed. “Just try to forget about it while you’re with her, Chandler. The stress…she can sense it.”

“Yeah,” I croaked and then mumbled a goodbye.

Around the bend, the large, whitewashed building came into sight. The striking columns of the two-story porticoed front porch towered over a line of wooden rocking chairs that stretched from one end to the other.Those chairs were new.I wondered if Mom liked them.

If the owners hadn’t turned this place into an elder care facility, they could’ve easily transformed it into a luxury bed-and-breakfast.That was my suggestion when I’d sold it to Chip and Dianne.But before the ink was even dry on the papers, Chip started showing signs of early-onset Alzheimer’s, soDianne changed all their plans. Instead, they’d decided to restorethe manor to a place for them to still enjoy, but one that could also accommodate Chip’s deteriorating health.

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