Page 30 of The Candlemaker

“I think they want to dictatewhoI sell it to.”

“So, they all decided to believe it was haunted?”

“One of them,” I croaked, my gaze locking on the damn candle. “One of them decided it should be haunted and enlisted all the rest.”

“Oh my…” She trailed off, and I looked at her, watching a smile appear. “In all my years…what a drastic, clever idea.”

Dammit.Hot air blew from my lips. Even Mom was admiring my adversary now.

“Not clever. Frustrating.”

“And you don’t like their buyer’s offer?”

My jaw clicked tight. I liked Lou Kinkade. I liked her ideas. Her plans. I liked how she knew her town and her market, and I admired that she’d delved so deep into this project that evenher twin sister could rattle off her dreams as though they were her own.

Butlikehad nothing to do with business.

“It’s not the best one.” The best one was from a man I was meeting with this afternoon at the property to light a fire under this deal. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d personally met with a buyer for any property of mine; I’d never needed to. Until Frankie Kinkade had become a thorn in my business—one only I could pluck out.

“But is it the right one?”

I stilled. “They’re the same thing.”

I hated the way her shoulder slumped a little and the light in her eyes dimmed. I hated feeling like I’d somehow let her down. But she understood—I knew she did; she’d worked by my side in this business for too many years to not know.

“Did you know monarchs migrate almost three thousand miles every fall?”

I stared at the preserved butterfly in the frame, forcing myself to accept I’d lost her focus. Every time, it was like being dunked in a bucket of ice water. Sudden. Frigid. Painful. And it took me several seconds to adapt.

“No, I didn’t.”

“New little butterflies emerge from their chrysalis in the northern states, ready to take this long, strenuous journey all the way down to Mexico. And they know the way. Without question, without anything to lead or guide them, they know the right path to take.” She traced the edge of the frame with her fingers and then surprised me by reaching for my hand. “I know you’ll take the right path, Chandler. You were born knowing the right thing to do.”

I inhaled sharply.She was still with me.My throat tightened, but I managed to say, “I don’t know about that, but I’ll figure out how to handle this. I always do,” I assuredher.

The right thing to do would be to forget about that damn kiss—a kiss that was far morehauntingto me than this cocked-up story about ghosts at the inn. The right thing to do would be what I came here to do: sell the inn to the person who presented the best offer and then leave. Anything else was a waste of time…or worse.

“Then you can add ghostbuster to your resume.”

I breathed out a laugh, watching Mom lean toward the candle.“This candle is really just wonderful, Chandler. Where did you say you got it again?”

From the woman I can’t get off my mind.

“The Candle Cabin. It’s a store in Friendship.” One more dilemma I faced: I needed more of these damn candles.

If the beach scent was what kept Mom in the present, I needed to buy a storehouse of them. And that meant returning to enemy territory.

Not that I cared about enemies or confrontation; I’d dealt with my fair share over the years. But her…to face her again was different. Especially since I’d faced her every night since our dinner in the depths of my dreams. I faced her gold-flecked eyes, hooded, as they looked up at me. Her soft-spun hair and the way it curled like a vine around my fingers. And that mouth—the fire it breathed, the sweetness it housed.

Air hissed through my lips. It had been months, maybe, since I’d been with a woman. Clearly a mistake because I was dreaming about that damn kiss and everything else I’d wanted to do to her and waking up every damn morning hard as stone.

“It’s so wonderful.” She moved closer and took another breath. “We should get one for your room. You always love being at the shore.”

The cold wave crashed over me once more.My room?How old did she imagine I was now?

“That would be nice,” I murmured.

“Oh, good.” She patted my knee. “Now, help me hang this frame, Geoff, before you run off again.”

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