Free Invitation to Murder (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) by Tim Myers Page B

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