Page 29 of The Candlemaker

I tensed, brought back to reality by Mom’s voice. I shouldn’t be thinking about Frankie or the goddamn inn—or that kiss. But Christ, that woman infected me. Frankie Kinkade was pure fire. Bright. Bold. Hot. Tempting. She made it so damn easy to draw close, so damn warm and inviting and sweet, and then holy hell, did she deliver a burn.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I sighed and smiled apologetically, my gaze flicking to the candle that had sparked my distraction.

After the other night, I didn’t want to believe that the ocean scent could work miracles, but sure enough, Mom’s fog when I first arrived evaporated as the flame stretched its tethers through the air and anchored her mind to the present.

“I asked what you thought of my newest friend.” Shepointed to the far wall, a preserved monarch butterfly hanging on display in the small square case.

“Very nice.” My smile was quick, my own mind too unmoored to focus for very long. “Where did you get it?”

She blinked like it was a silly thing for me to ask. “Tom brought it, sweetheart.” She motioned to the other butterfly frames and artwork on the wall. “He brought me all of them. You know that.”

“Oh,” I rumbled.Did I know that? Had she told me that?I knew Tom visited her often, but I didn’t realize he brought her gifts.

“What’s going on?” Mom patted my knee. “Your mind seems…away.”

I let out a quick breath. I knew I should brush it off. Say it was just work and talk about something else. But who the hell else was I going to share this with—this thing that twisted and knotted in my chest?This woman.

“Ghosts.”

“Oh.” She sat back and then chuckled. “Well, that would be very distracting. Real ghosts?”

I grunted. “Apparently.”

I’d spent all week making my rounds through town. Visiting the local shops and businesses, and meeting the generations of locals who’d lived in Friendship their entire lives. At every turn, I was met with one singular agreement:Absolutely, the old inn was haunted.

No doubt. No uncertainty. It was only the twinkle in their eyes that betrayed them. Truth never came with a twinkle.

Some said it was Revolutionary War ghosts. Some claimed it was Paul Revere himself. Others, ghosts from the Prohibition era. Everyone built a good story around the foundation Frankie had planted, but I was convinced that what they were creating was nothing more than a house of cards.

“Friendly ones, I hope?”

“Fake ones are more like it,” I said low.

My sister’s offer will still be on the table when you’re done.

It wasn’t a promise. It was a…foreshadowing. Like she knew she had the upper hand. I saw it in the glint of her eyes the same way she’d looked in the restaurant when she thought I believed she was Lou. Identical or not, I’d never not know her.No, let me rephrase.Identical or not, parts of me would never not know her.

Lou Kinkade was like a cool ocean breeze, calm and reassuring, but Frankie was a damn sun flare. They could both be standing in front of me, covered head to toe in potato sacks, and I’d still always know—only be drawn to the warmth of one.

“Fake?” Mom laughed. “You’re going to have to explain more than that, Chandler.”

“The people of Friendship believe—want everyone to believe that old inn is haunted.”

“No, it can’t be. Can it?”

I didn’t want to get into this, but I couldn’t help myself. The smile on Mom’s face. The twinkle in her eyes. She was interested. Engaged.Present.And it was only a matter of time before I ran out of these moments with her.

“I don’t think so. Ghosts aren’t real, but they are a convenient ally for someone who doesn’t want me to sell the inn,” I grumbled and let out a long breath.

Maybe I should just let the Kinkades have it. What the hell did it matter to me? I never wanted it in the first place, and it wasn’t like my business or career needed this sale. The inn was a blip in the billions. I’d come up here out of curiosity, and I sure as hell had more important business to handle back in Boston, but after meeting her…after realizing what was going on…

I told myself I was staying on principle—acting on soundbusiness practices. But goddammit, the truth was I couldn’t stop thinking about her and that kiss and wondering when the last time was when I felt something so strongly that I couldn’t resist it. Because that was exactly what happened.

The feel of her pressed to me. The part of her pink lips. The hungry haze in her eyes. And that kiss—I’d gone from businessman to beast in the span of a heartbeat. God, I wanted to devour her right then and there on the sidewalk. And I would’ve if she hadn’t stopped me.

“They don’t want you to sell it?” Mom reeled me back to the moment. “Why not? It would be so wonderful to have it up and running again.”

My tongue felt like it sat in a pool of acid. I wasn’t sure what made me the bigger asshole: wanting to sell it to someone who planned to tear it down or lying to her about it. I let a long exhale pass my lips. It was business, and I didn’t want to argue with her or upset her. I didn’t know…I was afraid I’d lose her if I did.

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