Page 31 of The Candlemaker

Another crack echoed from inside my chest. Her words were easy—ignorant of how painfully true they’d come to be.

I picked up the candle and blew out the flame. It gave me a couple of clear moments, but it wasn’t a miracle. It couldn’t fix what was happening inside her brain; it could only let me forget for a little that I was slowly losing her.

“Come on,” I muttered, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel and staring at the flower delivery truck in front of me blocking the street.

Maine Stems. Catchy.

I’d been stuck behind it—parkedbehind it for ten minutes—and ten minutes was a long time when nothing had been loaded onto or unloaded from it. What the hell were they doing? Growing the damn flowers from seed?

Back in Boston, I would’ve been honking by now. Or my driver would’ve been. But here, to honk at someone was the equivalent of a hit-and-run. Now that Frankie had outed me, I wasn’t a fan-favorite of the community who consistently lied to my face about my own property. I didn’t want to deal with…whatever they’d do next if I started blasting my horn at local business delivery trucks that were holding up traffic.

I should’ve just walked. Everyone walked around here. Home. Shops. Shore. Especially this time of year and this close to the center of town. But I didn’t want to be from around here. I wanted to keep my distance from this town and this inn and her.

My phone buzzed. A reminder for my meeting with Mr.Fairfax that was starting…now.I glanced at the clock, frustration staining my attitude.Dammit.I opened up a message to him and let him know I was trying to find parking and that I’d be there in a few minutes.

Almost as soon as the message was sent, the tall delivery driver appeared and rounded the back of the truck. He looked about my age, and as he reached for the door, he looked at me, tipped his head, and smiled as if to thank me for my patience.

“Yeah, yeah.” I gave a halfhearted wave. Just before he climbed into the truck, I swore his smile looked more like a grin.

Jesus.I was starting to imagine everyone in this damn town was in one pocket or another of Frankie Kinkade’s.

The truck rumbled back to life, and we finally started to move.

I scanned the side of the road for street parking, but everything was blocked up as I approached the inn. The truck made it a little hard to see too far in front of me, so I slowed, opening up some distance so I could see if Mr. Fairfax was there yet. A purple Maserati appeared like a shiny, sore thumb on the side of the road.Yeah, he was here.

Sure enough, Fairfax stuck out just as much as his damn car did. No one—not even a visitor to town—would be caught wearing a beige suit with a deep purple hat. But that was Cornelius Fairfax. Eccentric, obnoxiously skeptical, and painfully superstitious.

The man once refused to buy a piece of waterfront property simply because there were red tulips growing in one of the window planters. There was still debate whether it was the color red, the tulips, or both that caused it.

I didn’t like doing business with him because the man had no trust in anyone. And while there might be manyfiner points to my reputation, untrustworthy wasn’t one of them. But when it came to this inn, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Fairfax wanted a central location with good views for a condo complex, and the property of the inn delivered.

I was about to stop and put my four-ways on—since that seemed to be the norm around here—and let Fairfax know I’d be right there, but as I got closer, I saw he was already talking to someone. Great. Hopefully, his assistant?—

I squinted.Not great.

Fairfax was talking to Frankie.What the hell?

My jaw started to pound with how hard I clenched it; they looked in deep conversation, and if there was one thing I’d learned about Frankie Kinkade, it was that deep was dangerous. And that became more apparent as my car crawled closer. Fairfax had his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but Frankie…she was animated. Cheeks flushed, arms moving. She motioned to the inn and then down at the sidewalk.Why the hell were her candles all over the sidewalk?

And why was she talking to Fairfax about it?

After that, I couldn’t find a parking spot fast enough. Anger thumped like a war drum in my head as I stalked down the street toward them. From this angle, I could tell Frankie was doing all the talking because I could see Fairfax now, his face shaded by his hat but his mouth firm and unmoving.

He wouldn’t give a shit about ghosts. At the end of the day, he was here for the land, not the building. Frankie was going to realize real quick that this wasn’t the small-town business she was meddling in. I appreciated her tenacity and the authenticity of her sister’s offer, but feelings were never a good barometer for business. Hell, feelings were never a good barometer for anything.

The beat in my head grew louder the closer I got, and I didn’t wait for a break in their conversation before I stepped in.

“Fairfax. Good to finally meet you.” I extended my hand, half-blocking Frankie from his view. “Chandler Collins, CEO of Collins Realty. So sorry to keep you waiting.” Cornelius was flustered for a second before he quickly switched gears and returned my handshake. The whole time, Frankie’s glare bored a hole in my back.Good.Maybe that would clue her in to the hollowness inside my chest.

“Pleasure,” Fairfax replied gruffly, and then cleared his throat. “This young lady here has been sharing some…details about the property with me.”

“Well, I’m glad Miss Kinkade could entertain you with her local lore while I parked,” I drawled casually and extended my arm toward the main gate. “Why don’t I show you around and give you all the facts myself?—”

“Is this property haunted, Collins?”

Goddammit.

“No—”

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