A Flicker of Doubt (Book 4 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) by Tim Myers Read Free Book Online Page B

do this to
your candle, it might not burn properly. Don’t worry, we’ll cover
the holes completely in a second. I promise.”
    After she was finished with that task, I
handed her the jug of original pristine wax I’d reheated and said,
“Fill it all the way up now, but be sure to stop before you get to
the top”
    She did as she was told, and I explained,
“Now we put the weight back on and give it more time to cool.”
    As she surveyed the candles in their
respective baths, she said, “It’s a little like making gel candles,
but pouring is a great deal more involved than rolling or dipping
candles, isn’t it?”
    “ There are more steps, true,
but there are also more variations.” I’d read through half a dozen
of our books and had seen some marvelous candle creations. It was
amazing to me that anyone could make them, and I hoped to be good
enough some day to try my hand at all of them myself.
    She glanced at her watch and said, “We’ve
been waiting some time now. Are they cool enough?”
    “ Let’s check.”
    The first mold was indeed cool to the touch.
“I think we’re ready. Would you like to take it out, or should
I?”
    “ I’ll do it,” she said,
removing the weight and delicately pulling the mold out of the
water.
    “ Okay. Take the mold seal
off the wide on the bottom first, then flip the candle over. It
should come right out in your hands.” At least I hoped it
would.
    It slid out beautifully, landing in her hand
with alacrity.
    After cutting off the wick bottom—which was
still wrapped tightly around the dowel—she held the candle up and
studied it closely. “What caused this, Harrison? Did I do something
wrong?”
    I took the candle from her and saw a network
of cracks in the face of the candle. They gave the piece a certain
homemade look, but it was an appearance I was certain Mrs.
Jorgenson wouldn’t be pleased with.
    “ Let me check something,” I
said, pulling out one of my reference books. I found the page on
water baths and said, “I’m guessing the bath water must have been
too cold. Sorry about that.”
    “ It’s my fault,” she said.
“I shouldn’t have rushed the process.” Then she studied the candle
again and said, ‘To be honest with you, though, this presentation
is growing on me.”
    “ It does have a certain
rustic charm, doesn’t it?”
    She said sternly, “Not that I have any
desire to repeat the experiment.”
    “ Of course not,” I quickly
agreed.
    “ Is the other candle ready?”
she asked.
    “ Let’s check on it.” The
cracks could have been disastrous, but it was pretty obvious Mrs.
Jorgenson wanted her candlemaking to succeed. That was something in
my favor, but I knew I didn’t have too many more grace periods
before she got fed up and moved on to another craft, blackballing
At Wick’s End along the way.
    At least her second candle turned out
beautifully. Or so I thought
    “ This one has pinpricks all
over it Oh, dear,” she said as I reached for another
manual.
    I found the culprit right away. “Okay, the
wax was too hot that time.”
    “ So much for the art of the
pour,” she said frostily.
    I tried my best to grin. “Third time’s a
charm, they say. Shall we make another candle?”
    “ It will have to be another
time,” she said. “I’m nearly out of time.”
    “ Let’s at least finish off
the bottoms,” I said, desperate to salvage something out of the
session. I heated a small metal disk oil one-of the hot plates and
held the bases of both candles on it long enough to melt them into
perfect flat surfaces.
    She surveyed the results as I asked, “Shall
we have our second lesson next week?”
    “ No, I’m afraid not,” Mrs.
Jorgenson said abruptly. Well, it looked as if I’d blown it after
all. I just hoped we could survive her abandonment
    She shocked me by adding, “I don’t think I
can wait that long. Let’s do it again tomorrow, shall we? I’m eager
to get another crack at it” She arched an eyebrow, then added,