Page 85 of The Candlemaker

“Yeah?” I attempted a smile, and it only served to make the first tear fall.

“Thank you.”

I stilled, her gratitude like the twist of a knife in my chest.

“If you hadn’t done…everything…I know the inn wouldn’t be mine. I know Chandler?—”

I inhaled quickly, his name like a knife in my chest.“Lou, don’t.” I cut her off and haphazardly wiped my cheeks.

What was this—who was this? Not me. Not Frankie. And especially not for an arrangement with an expiration date, no matter what was said in the heat of the moment.

There could be a thousand explanations for where he’d gone. Why he disappeared. A hundred scenarios where he’d show up with coffee or breakfast or a good reason for disappearing without a note. But I’d be a fool to hope for any of them.

The note was the inn—the note was his agreement to sell to Lou.

If he planned on staying or even coming back, I wouldn’tbe hearing this news from my sister. No. The week was up. Our nights were up. His choice was to be made.

“I’ll never be able to repay you, Frankie.”

“I don’t want you to repay me,” I insisted. “I want you to promise me two things.”

“Okay.” Her tone became uncertain. Subdued.

“First, that whatever happens next, you’ll do whatever it takes to make the inn everything you dreamed it would be,” I said, swiping another tear from my cheek.

I heard her relieved exhale. Compared to the kinds of things I usually asked of people—of her—this was an easy oath to make. “I promise.”

My tongue grew heavy, loading the next words into the chamber of my mouth. “And second,” I began, ignoring the rattle in my voice. “Promise me that we’ll never talk about Chandler Collins again.”

Lou’s inhale was swift and pointed like the prick of a pin, releasing softly with, “Frankie…”

“Promise me.”

She didn’t hesitate this time. “I promise.”

I stapled a smile to my cheeks and replied, “Thanks. Now, why don’t you have everyone meet at Mom’s? I’ll grab coffee and breakfast from the Maine Squeeze, and we’ll celebrate.”

“Oh, but it’s not mine technically, yet?—”

“It’s yours, Lou, after all this time. We need to celebrate.” And I needed to start building new memories on top of old ones.

Her resistance toppled, and she agreed within moments.Perfect.Better to rip the Band-Aid off Gigi’s hopes now and make it clear in no uncertain terms that Chandler made his choice—concluded his business in town—and therefore was gone.And that I was completely fine.

The pain in my chest. The crippled thud of my heart. Ionly had myself to blame. I’d mixed business with pleasure, thinking I could pull them apart like oil from water.

But they were inseparable, like fire from a wick. With him gone, so was the flame, but its destruction still lingered. The charred scars of how I wanted more…and how I felt more with him.

You should’ve kept to the plan like you insisted he did,my heart accused.

I exhaled and stood from the mattress, releasing the vent so it could deflate. Within a few minutes, I was dressed and had what was left of our ghost-hunting campsite collected in a pile by the door. Even though Lou knew the truth—or part of it—it would be better if she didn’t see any evidence of what happened here.

My gaze swept one last time through the room, its emptiness mirroring the hollow inside my chest. Just like that, all traces of us were gone.All traces of him were gone.And that was the first moment I felt the inn was haunted. Not for everyone else, but for me. I’d never be able to walk through these doors and not remember the time I’d played with fire and ended up with the burn of a broken heart.

Chapter Twenty

Chandler

Two months later…

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