“Definitely,” Mary smiled.
Gramma finished. “But we know you’re looking for your own place. That’s okay, too.”
“As long as it’s close by,” Mary added.
“But come on, Harvest and I both have good jobs. If it comes down to it, we can loan you the money for the taxes and bills. Loan you the money, so you can stop thinking of it as charity and work on paying us back.” Quinn knew the Grams better than anyone.
“Out of the question,” Gramma said.
“Nope.” Mary said.
“The Chandlery has been in business for more than a hundred years. I’m sure they thought the end was nigh when electric light became the norm. I’m sure they thought the shop would close when Fishburn was flooded by the Allegheny Reservoir. We’re still in business, and we’re going to stay in business.” Still, Gramma scowled at the thermostat, and turned it down a notch.
“Even if we have to go to the food bank and eat government cheese,” Mary backed her up.
Gramma gave her sister the eye. “The government doesn’t hand out cheese anymore, Mary.”
“Well, whatever. We got a lot of meat in the freezer.”
“Stop it. This is silly.” Echo took the bowl back from Aunt Mary. “There’s really a simple solution to all this. I can fix it.”
AUNT MARY GAVE GRAMMA the oh-isn’t-she-cute look. Echo’s mouth made an involuntary moue. “Hey, I know you think I’m still a little kid.”
“No we don’t. You’re a college woman,” Mary said.
“Mary’s right. You’re an adult now, Echo.”
Again, the look.
“Stop with the look!”
“What look?” Mary said.
“What are you talking about, Echo?”
Echo took a breath, letting a little steam out of her system. New to adulting, it took her a moment to figure out her approach. “What if I said you can sell out your whole stock even with no one coming in the shop door.”
Aunt Mary cocked her head. “I’d say you’re full of beans, Squirt.”
“I’m going to sell out the whole store if you let me.”
“Are you going to bring them to school? Set up a table outside the Union? What would college students want with candles?”
“She’s going to sell them online, Aunt Mary,” Quinn spoke up.
Mary blew a raspberry. Gramma waved her hands. “We’ve talked about this. The business is fine just the way it is.”
“Hang on a sec,” Harvest joined the defense. “Echo didn’t get that car or her new computer with a paper route. Hard as it is to believe, people buy her weird-ass candles. She makes pretty good money.”
Echo’s jaw dropped. “Weird-ass?”
“What Harvest means is, Echo is a novice chandler, and she made herself a nice chunk of change,” Quinn started.
“She’s making payments on that used POS Subaru,” Mary snorted.
“Hey! That’s my ride!” Echo said.
Harvest joined in. “Yeah, don’t you get it, Aunt Mary? She’s making payments. Are you right now?”
“That’s still not a save, Harvest,” Echo growled.
“The point being,” Harvest rolled over her, “that expert candles will probably sell better than novice candles. Candles that you have to weigh out each single ingredient,” she shot at Echo.
“But they work!” Echo pointed at Harvest. “And they sell.”
Gramma shook her head. “Don’t fight, girls.”
“Okay, I’m sick of this adulting stuff. Do you want to make money, or do you want to starve and freeze to death? Who doesn’t want to make money? This is silly. You know what? Never mind. I’ll do it myself. You can all apologize after I save the Chandlery.”
She thrust the popcorn bowl back at Aunt Mary and grabbed her hoodie. Grabbing her backpack from near the front door, she walked out with a slam. Adulting sucked when the adults acted like children.
Chapter 8
“Hey. Sorry about the weird-ass candle remark.” Harvest walked into the workshop.
Echo ignored her, taking a photo of one of Aunt Mary’s carved candle masterpieces.
“When we bribed you into going to college, I didn’t realize how much work your candle biz was. So even if I’m frustrated spending my time off pouring wax, I’m proud of you. You’re an entrepreneur.”
“Whatever.”
“Are you crying?”
“No!”
“C’mon, the Grams’ll come around.” Harvest walked up to her. “Here. This will take much better pictures than your old phone.”
Red-faced, Echo reached for Harvest’s camera. “Thanks.”
“How can I help?”
Echo handed over the phone. “Here’s my crappy old phone. You can download the photos to my crappy old computer in the bunkhouse.”
“You don’t want to use the laptop?”
She shook her head. “I don’t do any candle business on the laptop. It’s for school. Someone could steal it, or hack it. They have a lot of computer classes at Fredonia.”
“Smart.”
“If I’m so smart, why won’t the Grams listen to me?”
Harvest raised her brows. “When you spend your whole life doing things one way, it’s hard to start doing it another. But I think you’re right. Hell, I know you are. If I were you, I’d expect an apology in the form of chicken and dumplings and Dutch chocolate cake before you go back to Fredonia.”
“I don’t know.”
She couldn’t help but grab her little sister in a bear hug. “Yes you do, Squirt. Quit being a martyr!”
“Don’t hug me when I’m working!” Echo complained, but Harvest could hear the smile in her voice.
OPERATION: ON LINE Chandlery lasted long into Saturday night and took up most of Sunday before Echo packed up and headed back to New York. Quinn found herself with an armload of packages to mail out as she drove to work Monday morning. Who knew people were so obsessed with beeswax candles? She’d have to pick up more if-it-fits-it-ships boxes from the post office when she dropped off the merchandise.
Before she could grab a donut and a cup of coffee from the conference room, Danielle Park stepped out of her office. “I need to see you immediately, Quinn.”
She cast a glance at Rae Devon in her office, but her friend and supervisor wouldn’t meet her eyes. Uh oh. Not bothering to drop off her bag at her desk, she hurried into the director’s office.
“What’s wrong, boss?”
“Steve Bender is what’s wrong.”
Damn. “I was only there to introduce myself, get a feel for him.”
“Right, and accuse him of murder. Good work.”
Warmth suffused her face, but Quinn didn’t speak.
“I know you were just there to do your job. I know that the death of former-Sheriff Bennett has a direct impact on your family. I know it was your duty to report seeing the can of poison in there. However, Gary Higgins, attorney for the accused, isn’t seeing it that way. He’s looking at it as further persecution of his client.” Park folded her hands on top of her desk.
Quinn sighed. “I didn’t expect it to blow up like that. And when Steve ran—”
“That was either really dumb on his part, or really smart.” Park unfolded her hands and tapped her fingernails on the desk. “I don’t think you did anything illegal. But why did a hazmat team arrive before the cops? What was your sister doing there? So much of this is just a freakin legal disaster.”
“I’ve had to call the cops on clients before,” Quinn said. “It never comes out well for anyone.”
“This time, it’s working out especially poorly for you.”
Quinn side-eyed her boss. “How so?”
“Our state legal advisor has proposed that you get sidelined until the matter of the arrest is investigated. Apparently, Mr. Higgins went to Harrisburg directly with this.”
“Sidelined, meaning what?”
Park pushed a sheet of paper across the desktop. “Sidelined, meaning suspended
without pay until further notice.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I couldn’t be more serious.”
A tornado of competing thoughts blew through Quinn’s mind. After a moment, she caught one of them. “Should I hire my own lawyer?”
“That might not be a bad idea. Our attorneys suggested that Higgins will come after you and your sister personally. You’re a good case worker, Quinn. I’m not losing you without a fight. If I had even the slightest clue that Steve Bender would get linked to the sheriff’s death...”
“I get it. There was no way you could’ve known.”
Danielle got up and put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you apprised, don’t worry. Once the state pulls up its big boy pants, I’m sure this will go away.”
Quinn thanked her and walked out of the Human Services building. Well, she didn’t have to worry about finding time to visit her mother, or help Harvest and Echo save the Chandlery. Head down, she walked back to her car.
AT AROUND THE SAME time, Harvest arrived at the district court expecting her basket to be filled with summonses and writs. Instead she found a pink phone message slip with two word on it: See me. There was no doubt that the handwriting was Judge Bowers’. She thought about the sheriff’s warning before seeking Lori Bower in her chambers.
“Is this about that Bender thing?”
Judge Bower was in her fifties, hair iron gray, eyes sharp and green as they eyed Harvest. “Yep.”
Son of a— “The kid had a can of poison, okay? The sheriff was killed with poison.”
“Do yourself a favor and shut up before you get in deeper.”
Harvest held her hands up in surrender.
“Your priorities are screwed up, Harvest. Although it isn’t even nine o’clock yet, I’ve received calls from State Police Sgt. Shafer, and Gary Higgins, esquire. From the opposing versions of their stories, I believe I can extract most of the truth.”
Harvest pursed her lips before speaking. “And what have you come up with?”
Bower didn’t break eye contact. “That I can’t trust a constable with ulterior motives.”
“Ulterior to what?”
“To your sworn duty. How can you expect me to trust you to serve members of the community when you’re so busy telling the police and the coroner how to do their jobs?”
Harvest thought about retorting, but decided to go with Bower’s advice, and said nothing.
Bower paged through sheets on her desk. “Right now, all I have for you on my calendar are three dates, all of them for the transport of prisoners to my court, and the security of that courtroom. If you want to run around playing detective, I suggest you resign from your post and get yourself a PI’s license. If you want to continue as State Constable for Elk Township, you’ll have to find some way to regain my trust.”
“Yes, Judge.”
Lori Bower let out a sigh. “Look, Harvest. I appointed you to this position when your predecessor died unexpectedly. You took on the responsibility better than I could’ve imagined. Since you ran in the last election, I’ll have to assume you like the position. You’re good at it. But we’re both elected officials. If the news gets a hold of this, a constable harassing a kid who’s doing his best to make good despite hardships and a broken home, neither one of us will be working after next November.”
Harvest did a double take. “This is about politics?”
“All the stupid, piddly shit is about politics. Haven’t you figured that out yet, kid?”
Chapter 9
With the weekend so crazy, Echo found herself awake at four a.m. trying to assemble sources from the Jamestown Post-Journal, the Dunkirk Gazette, and any other Chautauqua County news sources that covered the Satanic Panic of the late ’80s. It was kind of a pointless exercise. Dr. Stagg said that newspaper stories were not enough for her paper. Still, she had to come up with something. So far, hers was the only theme Stagg hadn’t approved. Didn’t he know she had classes other than Sociology 101?
Since she was up anyway, she wrote a report about Kate Chopin’s The Awakening for her American Lit class. Despite being utterly bored by it, she tried to match some of her instructor’s enthusiasm for the work. Unlike most of her class, at least she had read the book.
Thankfully, Stagg focused on McCarthyism and the Red Scare for most of the class. Feeling she had skated, Echo quickly exited Thompson Hall and headed for Jewett Hall and Geology 101. Head foggy for lack of sleep, she had trouble paying attention to all the rock talk. American Lit went about as well, but at least she turned in her report.
“It’s cheesecake Monday, Bunkie, try to cheer up.” Bunny found her in the cafeteria at lunch.
“They always serve cheesecake, Bunny.”
“I’m trying to start a tradition here. People need something to look forward to on Mondays.” Bunny had two slices on her tray, and handed Echo a dish. “You’re probably going to need this.”
“Why would I need cheesecake? I don’t even like it that much.”
Bunny nodded past her shoulder. “I see Dr. Stagg. I get the feeling he’s looking for you.”
So much for skating. Echo sighed. “Awesome sauce.” Her text alert beeped.
“Is that your phone?” Bunny pointed a fork at it. “Did you steal it from a cave man?”
Ignoring her, Echo checked the text. It was from Quinn. Ten carved candles sold, and two dozen hand-dipped beeswax tapers. Before her brain could do the math, she wondered what the heck Quinn was doing at the Chandlery in the middle of the day.
“Echo Hutchinson, just the star pupil I’ve been searching for.” Uninvited, Dr. Stagg pulled out a chair.
“S. T. A-G-G, let’s talk so-ci-ol-o-gy,” Bunny chanted.
Both Stagg and Echo gave her a hard look.
“I can’t help myself. It’s what I do.” She shrugged and dug into her cheesecake.
“Anyway,” Stagg dragged out, “I have some exciting news for you, Echo.”
Echo worried what Stagg’s version of “exciting news” might be. She bit anyway. “What’s that?”
“Former Jamestown Police Chief Barry Fredrickson has agreed to talk with you about your Satanic Panic paper. He’s kind of an old friend of mine.”
“Oh, awesome possum,” Echo tried to muster some enthusiasm. “But I’m so slammed with classes. I’m taking more than a full load.”
“You don’t have any classes tomorrow afternoon,” Bunny said.
Echo wished Bunny had sat close enough to kick in the shins. “That’s true, I do have Tuesday afternoons free, but—”
Bunny raised her fists in the air. “Road trip!”
GIVEN HER STATE OF employment, Quinn headed back to the Chandlery to pack more candles.
“Ten carved candles in one day,” Aunt Mary beamed. “That’s gotta be some kinda record. That’s three hundred bucks!”
“It’s four hundred fifty bucks,” Quinn corrected. “Echo raised the prices for the on line store. People around here may be cheap, but internet shoppers—not so much.”
“Seriously, one person bought two dozen dipped tapers?” Gramma watched Quinn pack them. “Maybe we should’ve done this—oh, a customer!”
Mary peeked through the retail space. “Damn. It’s Harvest.”
“Mary!”
“Where’s your constable costume, honey?” Gramma asked as the middle sister entered.
“Cutbacks.” Harvest looked a question at Quinn. Quinn nodded back. “I figured I might as well see what I can do here.”
Quinn thumbed across the street. “I was going to make a post office run. The orders are pouring in like—”
“Like hot wax,” Mary smiled.
“We should check to see if there are more before we go,” Harvest agreed.
Together, they walked a diagonal across Warren-Onoville Road and up the driveway. “Yes, the lawyer made some calls and I got suspended.”
“The judge said she can’t trust me to serve people. Let’s move some candles.”
They walked upstairs and to the end of the hall. When Quinn opened Echo’s door, she let out a shriek.
HARVEST CLUTCHED HER chest. “What the hell?” But she saw them over Quinn’s shoulder. Three fat raccoons were gathered around Echo’s computer desk. One sat on the chair, the other two flanking the screen.
“No pests shall occupy this house,
Rat, raccoon, insect or mouse
Your invasion I now spurn
I bid you go and not return!”
At Quinn’s words, the room filled with brilliant red light and a sound like firecrackers. Yet the raccoons continued to sit. One turned and growled.
Harvest caught Quinn’s confused look as she reached for a gun she wasn’t wearing. Damn it. She raced to the upstairs linen closet and grabbed a broom. She clocked the one in the desk chair hard enough to knock it down. As one, the creatures scampered for the open window and were gone.
“Why is that window open? The gas bill’s gonna be through the roof.” Quinn shut it with a bang.
“Your spell didn’t work.”
Quinn scowled. “I noticed.”
“You think Echo left her computer on and the window open?” Harvest saw the candle shop website on the screen. “She was still kinda upset.”
“Well, whatev, we have bigger issues to deal with. Oh, hey, three more orders.” She pointed at a flashing red box.
Harvest recognized Quinn’s indifference was feigned but decided to let it go. They printed out labels, shut down the machine and headed back to the Chandlery.
PACKAGES IN THE BACK of Quinn’s car, since she had more gas (and neither of them knew where their next payday was coming from) they headed south. “Sometimes I feel like a yo-yo, bouncing between here and Warren.”
Harvest adjusted her position in the seat. “I don’t mind so much, when the leaves are turning.”
“I have to admit, I did miss that when I was living in California. I—aaaaaah!”
A huge, hairy creature walked on two legs into the road just past the fork to the boat launch. Quinn floored the brakes. The Tahoe spun sideways with a rubber scream. She had seen the monster before, half goat, half man, with a spread of spiraling horns and glowing blue eyes. When she looked in the rear view, she saw no sight of the huge monster.
Resting Witch Face Page 5
