Page 10 of The Candlemaker

“Jamie…” I returned his drawn-out tone.

He came right up to the desk and lowered his voice. “Don’t think I don’t know where the rumors around town are coming from.”

“Rumors?” I stared at him blankly. “You know I’m not one for gossip.”

“Francesca.”

Full name meant full trouble.

“What?” I didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.

“Rumors are one thing, but trespassing is acrime.”

“It absolutely is, and I would never say it wasn’t,” I said staunchly.

Jamie’s nostrils flared. I swore I was the only person in his life who gave those things a workout.

“Why are we talking about trespassing?” And how did my brother seem to know what I might need to do before I’d even decided on a plan?

“In case someone got an idea in their head to make those rumors about the inn seem a little more real.”

“And how could someone make aghostseem real?” I chuckled like the band around my chest wasn’t tightening.

“I’m serious, Frankie.” His frown deepened. “It’s one thing when it’s us, but these people…Christ, I can’t believe I’m having to say this, but please, promise me you won’t trespass on the inn’s property.”

My mouth opened and shut once, and then he started to growl.

Good grief.

“I promise I won’t ghost anyone,” I said, even as my inner five-year-old crossed one ankle over the other like I could believe that made it okay to tell a lie.

Jamie let out an audible exhale, shaking his head as though he knew I was going to find some way around it—someotherway to get what I wanted. When this was all over—when Lou finally had her inn—he’d see that the ends justified my means.

“He’s coming to town, Frankie.”

“Who? The buyer?” I would’ve assumed he was already here by now, which is why I didn’t have a lot of time.

“No. Collins.”

I stilled.

“You don’t get that many zeros attached to your net worth without having an equal number of capable brain cells. And for someone who built an empire selling property, he’s going torecognize pretty quickly that something is off,” Jamie warned with a low voice.

I shifted my weight and muttered, “I make candles, Jamie. Not control the spiritual realm.”

“The only thing worse for Lou than losing the inn will be if something happens to you in the process.”

Wrong,I wanted to shout, but Jamie was as stubborn as the sea was deep. Lou had wandered for so long—been unsure of what she wanted to do with her life forsolong. And when she finally found her passion—thinking that she was going to manage the Lamplight Inn—it changed everything. I saw it.I felt it.Call it intuition. Call it instinct. Hell, call ita twin thing.But my sister needed this, and I would happily incur a little risk to make it happen.

I stood unmoving as his heavy footsteps carried him out of my store, but it wasn’t until the door shut that I allowed my shoulders to drop and my chest to exhale.

“Crap,” I muttered and pinched the bridge of my nose.

I needed cinnamon.

I blew through the curtain barrier and went to the far corner where I mixed and tested oils for new fragrances. I opened the glass cabinet on top of the counter, pulling out vial after vial of various scents and feeling a little like the sea witch in TheLittle Mermaidas I picked and plucked without even needing to read the tags.

Uncapping the bottle of cinnamon oil, I dabbed some on my wrist and then rubbed it on my temples.Focus.Cinnamon helped with concentration, and I was going to need it in spades if I was going to come up with a foolproof plan to put Lou back in the running.

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