Page 43 of The Candlemaker

“Frankie, how could you not tell me about Chandler?” A head of bright orange appeared next to me.

My forehead pulled tight, watching as Frankie glared at Gigi. If any look could threaten to cut off someone’s tongue, it was that one.

“Because Chandler?—”

“Is here to buy more of the same candle I did the other day,” I finished, holding her stare firmly like I could leash the truth with a look.

I watched her weigh her options, and her decision to agree with me and not reveal I was the owner of the inn told me everything I needed to know;she hadn’t told her family about our little bargain.

“Of course.” She clipped her chin and then looked at her cousin. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll talk to you later.”

He didn’t say anything back, just gave her a nod and then gave me that same damn smile from the street the other day. I didn’t like that smile.

“Tell Mom I’ll see her later, okay, Gigi?”

“Oh, I’m going to tell her.” Big, perceptive eyes swung between her granddaughter and me.Shit.

“Gigi…”

“Chandler.” The old woman beamed at me. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You—”

“If you’re going to be staying in town for a few more days, I know my daughter, Ailene, Frankie’s mom, would love to meet you and have you over for dinner. Would Wednesday work?”

Frankie didn’t bother to hide her groan of displeasure. It almost would’ve been insulting if the pink in her cheeks didn’t tell a different story.

“I’ll see if I can rearrange my schedule,” I promised, shaking her bony but firm grip in mine.

Nox and Gigi headed for the door, her loud whispers making it back to me.

“It was Chandler.”

“I know, Gigi—oww.”

Gigi swatted the younger man. “Chandler.”

I was missing something about the whole exchange, but it was the least of my concerns when I faced Frankie again, her expression making me feel like I was about to be missing my head.

“What?” I smiled at her.

Her eyes flicked around the store. “Not here,” she huffed, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the back room with her.

Chapter Eleven

Chandler

“What are you doing here?”

Here, in the privacy of her workshop, I let my eyes roam the way they’d wanted to out there in front of her family. In front of everyone. She had on bright red pants with flowers stitched all over them and a white tee, over top of which she was wearing a smock that was dotted with wax like a melting Jackson Pollock.

“I told you. I want more of the candles I bought the other day. The beach…”

“Beach Bum.”

“Yeah.” I folded my arms.

“How many?”

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