Page 21 of The Candlemaker

“What?” Lou’s jaw fell dangerously close to landing on the floor.

“This is your chance to give him some insight intoyou—the woman who wants to buy his inn.” I started to pace, otherwiseI’d be tempted to shake my sister into understanding. “You have an opportunity none of the other buyers have—to show Mr. Inconspicuous Collins why you are the best owner for the inn. Why you want it. Why you care. What it would mean to this town to have it restored to its former glory.” I kept going even though her eyes were getting wider by the syllable. “You can tell him how lost you were until we were going to restore the inn. Share all the plans you’ve come up with?—”

“No.” Her head swung side to side. “I can’t do that.”

“You can.” I stepped in front of her again and sank to my knees, taking her hands in mine. “Only you can show him how much this means to you…and how heartless he would have to be to sell it to some stranger.”

The last strains of my breath left my lungs, and I waited for her to agree.

“I can’t do it,” she declared, and then bolted for the powder room, slamming the door behind her.

“Shit.” I shoved off the floor and went to the door, knocking gently. “Come on, Lou. It’ll be okay.” My plea was met with silence. If there was one secret Lou was good at keeping, it was when she was in pain. Her tears. Her hurt. She bottled it inside and tried not to bother anyone with it.

I let out a deep exhale, my head tipped to rest on the door. “All you have to do is be yourself.” It wasn’t hard—it wasn’t like I was telling her to do anything different than she would’ve already…except maybe frame a conversation or two to her advantage.

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Lou’s soft, unsteady voice eked under the door. “I just don’t feel right…knowing who he is.”

“Don’t feel right being yourself? Telling him the truth about your dreams?” I rested my forehead on the wood, grateful Lou and I were alone at the house; Mom and Gigi had gone out for the afternoon to help my younger cousin,Harper, assemble her beehives. After countless hobbies over the last few years, she’d fallen in love with beekeeping and had sectioned off a corner of Stonebar Farm’s property to use for her hives.

“I can’t do that and pretend to not know who he is.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have told her. Maybe I should’ve tried to figure it out on my own—no. No, this was Lou’s baby. Lou’s dream. I wouldn’t do anything without her knowing. And honestly, I didn’t trust myself around the far too handsome Mr. Collins. Not the way he made my body sizzle and spark like an electric current with no ground. The feeling was…unnerving. My body was only reckless on my command…not in his presence.

And that was all aside from the fact he knew who I was—who Lou was—and still hadn’t revealed himself. It was dubious. Sinister, even. He already had the upper hand, why would he hide who he was? Maybe from Lou. I couldmaybesee that.Girl takes you on a “tour” date and you realize you’ve been crushing her business dreams for months…awkward.But then to come to my shop…

No, there was something off about Chandler Collins, and it was more than the haywire heat he struck in my body.

“I think you could, Lou. I think you could pretend if your life—your dream—depended on it.”

There was a long pause, and I swore I heard her breathing from right on the other side of the door. Thinking. Considering. And something panged in my chest. I knew my sister better than anyone. She was my other half. The yin to my yang. The calm to my storm. Shecoulddo this to fight for her dream…but just because she could do it, didn’t mean she should.

I knew the toll this deception would take on her—even if it was a slight lie. A white lie. A lie of omission. Even if it wasjustified.And even if it was only an omission that mirrored his own.

My breath went out of me, taking with it all the will I had to push her. She was right;sheshouldn’t do this.

Don’t do it.

Don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoit.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

The door swung open, but I was already halfway up the stairs, my determined stride carrying me quickly through the house.

“What do you mean you’ll go?” She chased after me.

“I mean, I’ll go to dinner and face him,” I said over my shoulder as I pushed into her room. “I’ll tell him what the inn means to you. Everything—all the plans you’ve laid out and how hard you’ve worked to save for the project.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“You know I do,” I insisted, stopping in front of her closet. “You know someone has to shake some sense into this guy.”

“Frankie—”

“Do you really want to see the inn torn down for condos?” I demanded, watching the question crumble the last of her protest.

“Fine.” Her mouth thinned—frowned in a way I was familiar with. It was her “for the record” frown, the one that came out when she begrudgingly agreed to whatever plan of mine she inherently disagreed with.

“Good.” I spun and threw open her closet doors just as my sister grabbed my arm.

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