Invitation to Murder (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) (9 page)

There was a sound behind me of scuffling
shoes as I approached my front door. It was all I could do not to
run when I heard someone behind me say, “It’s okay, Jennifer. It’s
just me.”

“
Why did you follow me
home, Wayne? Wait, let me guess. It was my dear brother’s idea,
wasn’t it?”

“
I won’t deny it or
confirm it,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He lingered
near me, and for the oddest reason, I thought he was about to try
to kiss me. That was the last thing on earth I wanted him to do,
and I knew in an instant that I’d made the right decision earlier
about turning him down.

“
If that’s all, I need to
get inside so I can feed my cats.”

“
Good night,” he said,
showing no signs of moving on.

I unbolted my door and rushed inside,
suddenly glad to have a lock between us. As I turned around, Oggie
stood there staring at me, and Nash ran and hid under the sofa. I
couldn’t figure out what had gotten into my weird cats when I
suddenly realized that I was still in disguise. As I pulled off the
wig and tossed the coat on the sofa, I could swear Oggie nodded in
approval.

I wanted to tell someone about it, but there
was no one I could call. I knew I’d done the right thing turning
down Wayne’s invitation, but it still would have been nice to have
someone there.

Chapter 6

When I got to the card shop the next
morning, I half expected Lillian to be waiting for me on the front
stoop, but there was no sign of my aunt as I unlocked the door and
prepared to get ready for a new day. I thought about calling her at
home, but with Lillian, the only thing that was predictable was her
eccentric behavior.

I was pleasantly surprised when a woman came
in precisely at ten o’clock. She had the most lustrous natural red
hair—nothing like the sharp henna of my aunt’s dye job—and a figure
that made me wish for just a second that I’d skipped dessert for
the last six or seven years. “May I help you?”

“
Oh, I’m just, looking
around,” she said in a soft and wispy voice. “I absolutely adore
your store, but I don’t recall ever seeing it here before. How long
have you been open?”

“
We’ve been in business
about a week,” I said.

“
Well, that explains that.
So tell me, what’s the easiest card there is to make?”

I grabbed a piece of scrap stock six inches
square and handed it to her. “There you go. I’ve got envelopes that
match it, too.” Well, they were close enough.

She laughed. “My, aren’t you the
underachiever?”

“
Darlin’, if you’re going
to stay open another week, you’re going to have to push a little
harder than that.”

I couldn’t help myself; my returning smile
came on without warning. “You’re right, aren’t you?” I fetched a
gift box with linen paper and heavily lined envelopes that were a
perfect match. “These are nice.”

She took them from me, flipped the box over
and saw the price, then smiled in earnest. “Now that’s more like
it.” She waved a hand at the selection of cards up front. “Do you
actually make these yourself?”

“
Absolutely, and you can,
too. It’s really quite easy. Would you like to see how?”

She looked tempted; then she glanced at her
watch. “How about a rain check? I promised my husband I’d be back
in time to go on a hike. I just love this area; it’s so
charming.”

“
On behalf of the chamber
of commerce and the town of Rebel Forge, I thank you.”

I rang up the card set and was walking my
customer out the door when a stern woman wearing an oversized black
coat walked in. From the way her gaze darted around my shop, I
suspected she was about to rob me. “Are you sure you can’t stay for
that free lesson?” I asked the redhead.

“
Sorry, but I will be
back. I promise.”

And then I was alone in my shop with a woman
who looked like she was up to no good.

“
May I help you with
anything?” I asked, half expecting her to pull a shotgun out of her
jacket and start shooting.

“
No, I’m perfectly capable
of helping myself.”

As she browsed through the shop, picking up
an item occasionally as she went along, I kept hoping that Lillian
would show up. At that moment, I would have welcomed Bradford or
even Sara Lynn; any warm body to act as a backup or a witness would
do. The woman kept glancing toward the front door as if she was
waiting for someone else to show up. After a few minutes, she
walked toward me with a determined look in her eyes. This was it. I
was about to experience my first robbery.

I was bracing myself for the assault when
she asked, “Do you have any baskets? There’s quite a bit I
need.”

I couldn’t hide my relief. “Absolutely.
They’re right here. Let me grab you one.”

She took it from me, then said, “You should
move these over by the door so people can get them when they come
in.” The woman moved to the scissors and picked up one of my most
expensive pairs. “These are nice. I’ve only seen them in catalogs
before.”

“
Are you a card maker?” I
asked.

“
I used to be a
scrapbooker, but I ran out of scrap.” She chuckled at her own joke,
a sound that resembled a serrated knife cutting through a rusty
nail.

“
You’d be surprised how
many people do both,” I said.

“
Wouldn’t surprise me a
bit. Got to do something with all that stuff left over. Why not
make cards?”

“
I couldn’t agree with you
more.”

She made her way to my paper selection. She
picked up one of my newest creations. “Some of this is custom,
isn’t it?”

“
I make it myself,” I said
proudly.

“
You use too much glitter.
Paper’s to use, not to show off.”

I picked up a piece of drab gray. “You can
always use this, if you’d prefer.”

She shook her head. “If I want stock made
from newspaper, I’ll make my own. This is nice, though.” She picked
up a sample of a maroon paper I’d been playing with. I’d pressed it
on a different rack to yield an unusual texture. It was tough to
write on—I’d learned that early on—but it was wonderful for pasting
and cutouts. As she added a nice selection to her basket, the front
door chimed and another woman walked in. In her late fifties, she
wore a crisp linen suit and had a dragonfly pin on her lapel with
what looked suspiciously like real diamonds for eyes. Her silver
hair was long and carefully layered, and I knew the cut had cost
more than the dress I was wearing. I couldn’t believe it; I had two
customers in my store at the same time, a record for me. If she’d
just come in to use the telephone, I was going to cry. I wouldn’t
survive if my customers kept coming in single file.

I was torn between helping the woman who was
buying lots of stock or the new customer when my original shopper
said, “Go on, I’m fine right here.”

I nodded, then approached the new customer.
“May I help you?”

“
Are you the
owner?”

“
I am,” I admitted. “My
name is Jennifer.”

“
I’m Melinda Spencer. I
was hoping to get a private lesson on card making from you. You do
that sort of thing, don’t you?”

“
Of course,” I said,
willing to do just about anything to make another sale at that
point. “What kind of card would you like to make?”

“
Oh, I don’t mean right
now. I would like to set up an appointment after hours when I can
have your undivided attention. Are you free tonight?”

“
Absolutely. Why don’t we
make it seven o’clock?”

“
That would be perfect.”
Melinda looked at the woman in the black coat for a moment, then
said, “I’ll see you at seven, then.”

After she was gone, my first customer said,
“The world’s full of dilettantes, isn’t it?”

“
Hey, I’m happy for all
the customers I can get.”

The woman looked around some more, then
said, “Okay, that should do it for now.”

As I followed her to the register and
started ringing up her purchases, she said, “Now that’s
interesting.”

I followed her glance to the poster I’d put
up for the Crafty Cut-Ups Club I’d been hoping to sponsor. “When
does it meet?”

“
It’s going to be every
Thursday, but I need three members before I can start.”

The woman nodded. “That sounds great. I’ll
bring Betty and Dot with me. They’re old scrapbookers, too. Not
that they’re old, though they are, but they’ve both been doing it a
long time. I’m Hilda, by the way.”

I took her extended hand, not surprised at
all by the strong grip. “I’m Jennifer,” I said. Here I thought this
woman had shown up to rob me and she might just turn out to be the
best thing that had happened to me since I’d opened my doors.

After she paid for her purchases, Hilda
said, “I’ll call them as soon as I get home. We’ll see you
might.”

“
Wait a second,” I said.
“I won’t be able to start until next Thursday.”

She nodded. “That’s probably better, anyway.
Knowing those two, they’re probably already booked or tonight.
We’ll clear our schedules for next week, though.”

“
I’m looking forward to
it,” I said as I handed her he bag and her change. As she was
walking out, Lillian came in.

Before I could say a word, my aunt said,
“Jennifer, I’m so sorry I’m late. I see we had a customer
already.”

“
We’ve had three,” I said
a little too stiffly. “Dear, I said I was sorry. I was up late
talking with Hiram. That was the gentleman with me when you visited
yesterday.”

“
Please, spare me the
details of your love life, Lillian,” I said gently. That was the
last thing I wanted to hear, especially since I didn’t have one at
the moment. I had to admit, I’d spent more than a little time
niggling to get to sleep regretting the abrupt no I’d given Wayne.
I knew I was still right in theory, but a principle was tough to
snuggle up to at night. “I told you it wasn’t like that at all,”
Lillian said. I’ve decided to move on and see other
people.”

“
And you both decided
that?” I asked her pointedly.

“
Well, I admit the idea
was mine at first, but eventually he came around to my point of
view. It did taker quite a bit longer than I expected it to,
though. That’s why I’m so late.” She hugged me, then said, “Two
single women searching for romance, that’s us.”

“
That’s you,” I corrected
her gently. “I’m just looking for more customers.”

“
Then perhaps we’ll both
find what we’re looking for.”

I was getting hungry and starting to think
about taking my lunch break when the front door opened. Mrs.
Albright—the woman who had commissioned the wedding announcements
for her daughter—came into the shop. She looked flustered and
harried, and I couldn’t imagine what was wrong this time.

“
Mrs. Albright, are you
ready to make some decisions about the wedding
invitations?”

“
I’m not at all certain
there’s even going to be a wedding at this point,” she said,
surprising us both with her candor. “That’s why I came to see
you.”

“
Hold on one second.” I
turned to my aunt. “Lillian, why don’t you go ahead and take your
lunch break.”

“
I’m not all that hungry,”
she said, watching the mother of the bride with a gleam in her
eye.

“
Still, I think that this
would be a good time for you to take your break.”

Lillian reluctantly agreed, though she
frowned at me with great displeasure as she nodded her acceptance.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” she said, daring me to try to keep
her away any longer than that

After my aunt was gone, I asked Mrs.
Albright, “Have they decided not to marry after all?”

“
Oh, they’re getting
married.” She looked around the deserted shop and asked, “Ms.
Sheen, may I speak candidly with you?”

“
Of course,” I said,
ignoring the fact that she’d butchered my last name. “And it’s
Jennifer. I assure you, I’m very discreet.” It was true, too. I’d
always taken secrets shared with me very seriously ever since
Vinola Ridge had blabbed about my crush on Kyle Day to him when
we’d all been in the seventh grade. Kyle had laughed in her face
and then he’d done the same thing to me. I still felt a twinge
whenever I thought about that particular day. Since then, I’d been
careful about who I shared secrets with, and promised myself to
keep any confidences entrusted to me.

“
Jennifer, my daughter is
under a bit of a deadline to hold the wedding in a timely fashion.
After all, a gown can only cover so much.” She hesitated, then
added, “There are other considerations, as well.”

So Anne Albright was going to be a
grandmother, and from the expression on her face, it was coming a
lot sooner than she’d hoped. “You can count on me. I can have the
invitations done in a week. In fact, I’ll work all weekend to make
sure you have them as soon as humanly possible.”

“
My dear, I wasn’t goading
you into action. At least neither one of them has cold feet, though
I’d have been wearing thermal socks if I were in their situation.
No, I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that.”

“
Is there anything I can
do to help, anything at all?”

“
I don’t see how. I’m
afraid Donna’s maid of honor has met with an unfortunate accident.
Jennifer, are you all right?”