Chapter 23

I usually use my tiny shower at the Wick & Flame as extra storage space, but after removing the box of silicone tubes, and a few other pots and containers from the stall, I rinsed off the muck that was beginning to set on my skin. When I opened the door, clean and spiffy, I was thrilled to see Millie at work, sniffing one of her scents, with the Vis-à-Vis bag beside her.

“I need a whiff of the real formula,” she said without looking up at me.

I retrieved the vial from my small bathroom and handed it to her. Still wrapped in a towel, I stood beside her as she twisted off the cap.

“Good lord,” she said.

I took the vial from my mother and smelled it.

“That’s an understatement,” I said.

From a perfumer’s perspective, the aroma was a disaster. I don’t have the nose of my mother, but I surely know when a scent lacks sophisticated, well-defined notes. A good scent has a maximum of three, notes, rarely more. At first scent, I could detect at least five, ranging from woody herbs, to floral tones, to minerals from land and sea. It was the sort of fragrance someone in my basic candle class would make as a first attempt at mixing, when the aromas in my workshop were all too tempting to choose from.

“I need a pen,” said Millie, reviewing the samples in her bag and eyeing the scents I collect in jars along my back wall. “And paper.”

My mom, ever the professional, closed her eyes and breathed in the formula.

“Try on the stuff in the bag while I start working,” she said, rhythmically breathing while I peeked at my gift.

“Oh, thank you!” I said, looking in the bag. “This is just like the outfit we loved in Paris.”

“I was hoping you’d get the connection,” she said. She lowered the vial and smiled.

On our first day in Paris, on the Boulevard St. Germain on the Left Bank, we’d seen a woman on a bike with a baguette in her basket. What captured our attention was that she was wearing high heels, a black chiffon blouse, and palazzo pants on a bike. So chic. The outfit Millie had found was similar. It was a matching blouse and wide-legged pants, with all the sophistication of the chiffon, but in black with a red and violet flowered pattern that suited me.

“It screamed ‘Stella’ when I saw it,” she said, returning to her project and jotting down her notes. “Ooh, this one’s from Indonesia. Very interesting. I hope the government doesn’t end up killing me for cracking their code.”

“Maybe they’ll end up hiring you,” I said.

“I might like that,” she said. “Let me see that outfit on you. I thought you could wear it to your dinner with Peter tonight.”

I took the bag back to my bathroom, shoved my candle supplies back into my shower, and changed.

Both top and bottom fit me perfectly. It showed off the parts of my figure I liked best, while leaving enough to the imagination. The pants were also loose enough that I could sit and enjoy a good dinner with Peter in comfort. The two pieces were linked by a flowing sash which I wrapped around myself twice and tied into a bow. Also inside the shopping bag was a red cashmere cape that made me feel like a queen. It must have cost a fortune, and I was deeply touched by her splurge.

“I L-O-V-E it,” I said, opening the bathroom door into the workroom so that I could enjoy the outfit from farther than the three inches of space my bathroom afforded.

“I knew it,” she said with an approving once-over. “Perfect. Something special for a special night.”

I still had a lot to do before I could enjoy a special night.

While the wax hardened, I took a few fragrances from my shelves and joined my mother at the table where she had stationed her black bag. We worked together, mixing certain oils, liking some, rejecting others.

Rex Laruam had asked for a purple candle, and I’d give him one. I decided I wanted to make a statement. Inspired by my candle mold class, I looked through the collection of molds I’d amassed over the years. I found the one I wanted. It was of a fist. I’d made it years ago, from a small statue a friend had.

Blending blue and red dyes until they reached the perfect hue, I poured the melted wax into the mold. Finally, I took one of Millie’s empty vials and dipped it into the pliable wax so that I’d have my secret compartment ready for her formula.

“Can you believe I’m supposed to be enjoying a special dinner tonight?” I said. And a surprise party, I thought. If things went according to plan, I’d be able to catch a murderer and make my birthday celebration.

A tear sprung to my mom’s eyes, and caught me by surprise.

“My baby,” she said, and hugged me.

“What?” I said.

Millie winked at me and went back to work.

“It’s a special night,” she said.

There were many words that had terrified me over the last couple of days, but the way she said those particular words was the most terrifying of all. Suddenly, I thought of Cherry’s gentle teasing about Peter’s affection for me, and Emily’s spontaneous hugs over the last couple of weeks. I also thought about Peter’s edgy mood over the last couple of days.

I couldn’t believe I had been so blind. I had thought for the last two weeks that I was walking into a surprise party tonight, but I realized I’d had it all wrong. Peter was going to propose. And if my mom already knew, my dear Peter had been the true gentleman and had asked for her permission for my hand.

I relived every ambiguous comment about a surprise party that I had heard. In a new light, they could all have easily been hints about my engagement, and not about a surprise party.

“What are you hiding from me?” I said to my mother.

“My lips are sealed,” she said. “I won’t say another word, and you know that’s true.”

The woman could keep a secret. On the other hand, Emily couldn’t, and she was only a block away, setting up for Frank Marshall’s last event, the “Whiskey Dinner” at the Jared Coffin House. I needed to see her. Right now.

“I added a dash of number three. I think we’re getting to the same olio, although, of course, from completely different locations than the original,” she said.

She handed it to me. I nodded with approval.

“How about a drop of this, too?” I said, handing her a vial from my shelf.

“Nice,” she said with a smile. “I think we’re almost there. I just need a few more minutes.”

I calculated how long it would take me to get to the Jared Coffin House and back and decided to take advantage of her final touches to find Emily.

I grabbed the real formula, not willing to let it out of my sight, stuck it into my bra, and threw on my sneakers.

“Slingbacks will look much better,” she said.

I opened and closed the door to the workroom.

“Oh, that looks much better,” said Cherry as I headed straight out of my store. I dashed down Centre Street to the Jared Coffin House, where Emily was finishing up her decorations for Frank Marshall’s dinner party.

In spite of my shock and, yes, a little panic, I realized one important thing. If Peter was asking me to marry him, then he’d decided he could live on Nantucket through thick and thin. A surprise engagement made me a little queasy, but the idea of him staying on Nantucket was beautiful news.

Before I reached the end of the street, Nathaniel appeared at the entrance of a new gift shop that had opened.

“You look beautiful,” he said, stopping me in my tracks. “Your mother knew that outfit would be perfect for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, straightening the sash. “I’m going to show Emily.”

“I just saw her feverishly at work in the hotel. I wouldn’t bother her right now. But maybe you can spare me a minute?” he said, guiding me into the store. “I’d love your approval on a gift for Millie.”

“How sweet,” I said.

Even with my burning questions, I knew how focused Emily could be when she was working. I’d take Nathaniel’s advice and give her a few minutes. Nathaniel held up a felt hat with a flower on it, a beautiful shade of burnt orange that would look amazing with Millie’s red hair.

“What do you think?” he said.

“Lovely!” the saleslady and I said together.

Looking very pleased, Nathaniel handed over his credit card.

As he did, I got a text from Millie.

Your candle has hardened. I’ve hidden the vial in it.

Where are you?

I checked the time. It was four o’clock. I still had time to catch Emily, put the candle in the window, get Millie to safety at my apartment, and return in time to meet Andy. I’d keep my eye out for the arrival of my suspects, including anyone with dead eyes. By dinnertime, I hoped to have Rex Laruam behind bars in the local jail.

Stay put!!! I’ll be right back, I texted.

Little text bubbles flashed and disappeared a few times. Finally, the bubbles stopped bubbling.

“Everything OK with Millie?” said Nathaniel.

“She’s great,” I said.

When we left the store, I counted my lucky stars. Emily was getting into her car. I hadn’t missed her.

“Do you know something you want to tell me?” I said, sprinting ahead of Nathaniel.

I thought she looked suddenly desperate to drive away.

I remembered that when Emily got engaged, she’d had a feeling it was going to happen. She’d made sure her nails were perfectly manicured for a month. I’d had slime in mine less than an hour ago, and no idea this was coming.

“Are you OK?” she said.

“I don’t know, am I?” I said.

We both looked at each other, waiting for the other to say something. I broke first.

“I can’t walk into tonight without a clue, and Millie won’t tell me anything,” I said.

“You know?” she said, looking both excited and disappointed that I knew.

“Oh my God,” I said.

We both laughed, and Emily hugged me.

“Stop. I’ll get weepy,” she said, opening her car door. “And don’t make me say anything. Let’s keep some element of surprise, You know, Peter’s a really special guy.”

“Have fun with Frank and the guys,” I said as her car pulled away.

When I returned to the Wick & Flame, Cherry was packing her bag to leave for the day.

“I can close up,” I said.

“You should be getting ready for your dinner with Peter,” she said.

“I will,” I said. “I just need a mother-daughter chat with Millie before I close up.”

“Millie left,” said Cherry. “She told me to tell you good night and not to worry about her. She has plans.”

“She left?” I said. I’d been clear with her that we needed to stick together. “What plans does she have?”

Cherry shrugged.

“Was she alone?” I asked, wondering if Nathaniel had come to the store for her.

“Yes,” said Cherry.

This was not the time to disappear on me.

When I entered the workroom, I had another unexpected surprise. The candle I’d made was gone.

“Cherry, did my mom take the candle we were making?”

“The purple one? I wish she had. I don’t think that goes with your current product line. But no, she left it on your worktable. I saw it a moment ago.”

I went to the window of my workroom. The lock was now undone. How had Rex Laruam taken the candle without anyone seeing him?

I had let Rex Laruam slip from me, as he had with everyone else who’d tried to uncover his identity. I was furious with myself, and worried too. If Laruam discovered that the formula was a fake, Millie would be in danger.

I called my mother again, but the call went to voicemail.

I called Nathaniel, but his phone went to voicemail.

“Happy birthday,” said Cherry as she shut the door and left for the day.

I left a moment behind her. I drove home on autopilot, wondering what my next move should be. I’d let the world down, and I feared for Millie’s safety. It was just like her to disappear at the worst moment. Our entire relationship, it seemed to me, revolved around her taking off on a whim. I never knew where she was.

When I pulled into my driveway, I noticed Peter’s car. He was early.

“Hello?” I said, as I opened my door.

One step inside my apartment and it hit me. My knees began to sink. I took a huge lungful of the evening air outside before I climbed the stairs.

My living room lights were turned off. The low sun shined through my windows. On the small dining table in front of my kitchenette, I saw Peter. He was seated at the table, which he had covered with a red paper cloth, my favorite color. His head, however, lay heavily on top of one of two fancy china plates we’d bought on sale when an antique store in town closed up after the summer. Both of his arms dangled to his sides, and I could tell from the way he was breathing that it would be a good while before he’d be himself again.

I knew why, too. In the center of the table, beside a covered pot filled with Peter’s other infamous dish, his rice and beans souffle, were two candles. They were different widths and heights, halfway between a thin taper and a fat hurricane candle. The wax wasn’t particularly smooth, and the wicks, I could see, were wildly off center. Had any of my students crafted them, I’d have sent them back to the drawing board.

These, however, I loved, because these had been made by my guy, Peter Bailey. I realized what had happened to my missing vial of the sleeping scent. When I’d caught Peter in my apartment, he’d likely been grabbing what he’d thought was a scent to finish his candles. His efforts warmed my heart. This was the sweetest dinner I’d ever been invited to. It was perfectly planned, despite his accidental use of sleep-inducing oils.

I blew out the candles, and opened the window for another breath of fresh air.

“Peter,” I said, and shook his shoulder while I covered my nose with Millie’s sweater to filter the air.

“Mmmm,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, despite the fact that his eyes were still closed.

“Peter,” I said, shaking him.

With some effort. He lifted his head and flashed me a smile. I could see an indentation across his cheek from where the china dish had dug into his skin. The guy was really out of it.

“You look pretty,” he said. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sweetheart,” I said. “You’ve been poisoned.”

“Poisoned with an arrow from one of those little cherubs. Like in the movies,” he said, nodding emphatically. “I’m really tired.”

He put his head back on the china plate.

“Have you seen or heard from Millie?” I said, persisting.

“Hmmm?” he said in a deeply groggy state. “Oh, she left whiz-a-man.”

It took me a moment to figure out what he’d said.

“With a man?” I said. “She was here? And there was a man?”

He nodded. “She said . . .”

“What did she say?” Sleep was beginning to take hold of me.

“Not to worry about,” he said, and drifted off.

“About what? Not to worry about what?”

“’Bout her. She said. Take care of you. Then she left.”

“With the man?” I said, clutching his shoulder and feeling wide awake.

“Mmhmm,” he said.

“Did you know the man?” I said.

“I don’t trust him,” he said.

“Who?”

My phone pinged. I looked down to a text without any number attached.

39 Cross Road. Bring the vial.

I could have passed out right then and there, without the aid of Peter’s candles. My worst fears had come true.

My grand plan to catch the thief who would steal my purple-fisted candle had gone terribly wrong. Rex Laruam’s note had been clear. He had threatened to kill my mother if I messed with him, and I had. He had discovered that the formula she’d inserted was a fake. My only hope was that he was holding her alive until I handed over the real formula.

The address in Rex Laruam’s text struck me as familiar, but it wasn’t the address for John Pierre’s house. Then, I remembered where I’d seen it before.

“I’ve got to go,” I said to Peter. “You probably can’t hear me, but this was a great dinner, and when you wake up, hopefully I’ll be back.”

I kissed Peter’s sleeping head. I looked at his dead weight and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Fortunately, the circumstances didn’t leave room for either. This was not the engagement a girl dreams about, but duty called.