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Inearly dropped a box of Halloween candles when I heard Kathy Friedman say, ‘the body had doughnut powder on her’. She was a stout woman, with a commanding presence—her mouth a complementary feature—so it was hard not to hear her voice boom across the quaint space. I watched, discreetly, as she picked up a scented candle before scrunching up her nose and placing it back on the shelf. Her friend, Belinda Cartwright, huddled close by her side as they browsed a selection of holiday votives. The morning sun beamed through pink, frilly curtains, filtering over the ladies as they canvassed the store. Being early in the day, the shop wasn’t too busy, so the ladies had no reason to conceal their gossip—not that anyone bothered in such a small town.

Her? Belinda asked.

What’s that?

"You said the body had doughnut powder on her."

Mrs. Friedman, as the townsfolk referred to her—not only because of her age but also because she was an influential member of Elmer Heights—cupped her hand around her mouth. Larry was delivering some insurance papers to the doctor at the hospital and overheard the paramedics who brought the body in, mentioning it was of a woman.

Mrs. Friedman’s husband, Larry, was a prominent businessman and the only insurance game in town. Almost everyone had a policy with him, right down to accidental death and dismemberment. I wondered if Larry had sold such a policy to the woman found in the alley, then promptly brushed the naughty thought from my mind.

Was she a towns’ member? asked Belinda.

Not that they know of.

"You don’t think Delmer had anything to do with it? I mean, he is the local doughnut shop owner."

Mrs. Friedman leaned in close to her friend. Well, I had heard he was dating someone from a neighboring town, you know, someone he’d met through one of those dating apps for old folks. Her eyes perched high on her forehead like a bird on a ledge. Ugh, rose petal, she exclaimed as she sniffed another candle.

I couldn’t believe a frail, elderly man could harm anyone. Besides, Delmer’s family built the bedroom community of Elmer Heights—his namesake.

Katy, darling, I’ll take this one. Mrs. Friedman hoisted the large, lavender scented candle onto the counter.

That’ll be twenty-five dollars, I instructed, eyeing the gaudy pink lipstick smeared across her lips.

Thank you, Katy. Have you given any more thought to my offer?

What offer is that? I bent low, pretending to busy myself behind the counter, half ignoring her.

To meet my cousin. Mrs. Friedman laid across the counter, staring over the top of my sandy-blonde hair.

I’m far too busy to date right now, I replied, popping up faster than a jackrabbit, narrowly missing her head.

Mrs. Friedman flung herself backwards, now staring me straight in the eye. Given that you’re single and a newcomer in town, it may be worth reconsidering. You’re not getting any younger, you know.

Her sing-song voice twisted my insides in a knot. Yes, thank you for the reminder.

Gordon is ready to meet you anytime. He’s well-off also.

Thank you, I reiterated, with a bit more vigor. I’ll think it over. I stood erect and clasped my hands at my sides.

Mrs. Friedman cut her eyes at me before snatching her candle from the counter. She turned with a jerk, her high heels clanging against the cement floor. Belinda gave me a crooked smile before darting behind her. The two ladies left the store as I breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs. Friedman was one person who could rub me the wrong way. She surprised me by having nothing else to say on the matter, but I was glad she left without pressing the issue further.

As the sunlight continued to shift through the curtains, it created a beautiful contrast with the shadows that lingered in the corners of the shop. The interplay of light and dark added depth and dimension to the space, making it feel like a scene from a painting. The flickering flames of the candle displays added to the enchanting ambiance, casting a warm, inviting glow meant to draw more customers to explore the shop further and discover the treasures it held. I felt joy bubble up inside me like a volcano. I shrugged my shoulders and looked around my shop. The lights, displays, and charming trinkets brought a smile to my face. I never imagined I’d be a proprietor, owning a place like this, but here I was. It felt like a dream come true, and I needed a dream, not a nightmare, especially after what happened the year prior to leaving home. A change of pace was what I’d searched for, but a body behind the doughnut shop wasn’t what I had in mind. I didn’t have time to worry about that, but needed to concentrate on my home renovations. Glancing out the window as I folded a pile of holiday napkins, I secretly hoped it would start snowing. Coming from Wisconsin, it was something I was used to and always enjoyed since my childhood. I shoved an empty box aside and finished putting out the last of the holiday items when I heard the door chime.

Ms. Langley?

Deputy Bernstein, what brings you in? More of that root beer scented soap? I tossed a box aside and strolled behind the counter.

His tall, thin build almost floated across the floor. An unassuming smile, like a child’s, pulled across his creased cheeks.

No ma’am. I wanted to inquire about the renovation of your house. How’s it going? His large brown eyes barely widened as he fixed his stare on me.

Slow but steady. My kitchen is a real mess right now, I replied, plopping my hands on my hips, averting my attention to a streak of dust on the counter.

Well, I was wondering if you needed any help?

I puffed out my cheeks, holding in a breath of air.

You see, my cousin is in town and really needs some work. He’s a genius in handyman skills. Besides, it would really help him out.

I contemplated his words carefully. It would be nice to have the kitchen finished, so I can cook and entertain guests at the house for a change.

I don’t know how much I could pay him, but I sure could use the help. If he’s as good with a hammer as you say.

Oh, don’t worry about the payment amount. He just needs enough to get by on since he’ll be living with me. I’ll bring him by the shop this week, and you can size him up. He’s a regular Picasso with a hammer.

I snickered to myself, imagining the famous artist wielding a hammer. That’ll be fine, Deputy. I’m thankful for the offer. I smiled kindly, fumbling with a stack of receipts.

You can call me Michael, he responded, his tone smooth like syrup pouring from a jar.

Biting his lower lip, he remarked, You know, I think I will grab another bar of that soap.

I’ve got a new shipment right here. I opened a box and placed a bar in a paper bag, doing my best to ignore his flirtatious behavior.

Thank you, Ms. Langley.

Katy, I remarked, then handed him his change.

He smiled, hanging his head momentarily. "Enchanting Candles and More. What a great name for this place, and I must say, it compliments the proprietor nicely."

Why, thank you, deputy, I replied sincerely, not wishing to appear disgruntled, but the compliment turned my gut into a knot.

Deputy Bernstein stood square, staring at me, scrunching his face.

Everything okay, Deputy?

It’s just, well, I was hoping you would have dinner with me this Friday evening? The words seemed to float from his lips.

He took no heed at the thought of rejection, as if he assumed I’d oblige him. I paused, swirling the question around in my mind. Oh, uh, I’m not really ready to date yet. Not so soon after losing my fiancée, I replied, my face tightening. I hope you can understand?

Oh, yeah, sure. I mean, I had heard he passed away just before you moved here. Small town gossip travels fast.

Yes, it does, I sighed. One would expect me to be accustomed to gossip, especially in small towns, since I’d grown up in one. 

Well, it could just be two friends grabbing a quick bite to eat after work. We could go Dutch.

I tapped my pencil on a notepad as if conducting a symphony. I’m not so sure—

Just a quick bite.

I hesitated, noticing the eagerness in his face. If I was being honest, it was a little off-putting. Maybe some other time, deputy. I responded in my kindest but firm voice.

I understand. Well, then, I’ll see you later this week. Thanks again for the soap. He hoisted the bag, his body already headed for the door.

A strong puff of air escaped my mouth before resuming my duties for the morning.

CUSTOMERS STORMED THE store as the day wore on. Preparing for the holidays had been exhausting but invigorating. With each passing hour, the candle store became a hub of activity, attracting customers from all walks of life. Looking around, I realized they’d nearly wiped me out of merchandise. Oh, my! It’s time to close up for the evening, I said, glancing down at my watch. The hectic day had gotten away from me. Darting my eyes through the large front window, I noticed the lights lining the main street had started their evening glow, and I was eager to get home and enjoy a quiet evening by the fireplace.

Driving at a languid pace, noticing the picturesque scene, it felt like I’d always belonged in Elmer Heights. Breaking at a stop sign, I took a moment to soak it all in. With the golden sunset as a frame, my eyes were captivated by the majestic skyline. A massive expanse above me stretched for what seemed an eternity, its fading violet color exploding behind pearly clouds. A comforting feeling swelled within me as I ventured to the winding paved driveway of my new home. Despite the oncoming winter weather, the covered porch and wood railing, painted white and yellow, exuded a cheery vibe.

Opening the front door, I kicked a box of unpacked sheets and towels aside, tossing my purse and keys on the small, antique table to the left of the coat rack. I grabbed a glass and wine bottle, shoved off my shoes, started the fireplace, and plopped into a plush chair, exhaling the stress of a busy day. I needed to finish unpacking, but opening the candle shop had taken precedence over the past few months. Besides, the house still needed renovating. Sipping a vintage Bordeaux, I watched through a laced-curtain window as snow flurries started their winter inklings. It was the least I could do, unpack the curtains, to give the old house a lived-in feeling. Stretching my toes closer to the roaring fire, a feeling of satisfaction swirled inside me. There’s nothing like a wood-burning fireplace. I’d always dreamed of owning a home with one. The longing came from many winters spent at my grandparents’ farmhouse in Wisconsin. We always had a fire burning to warm up after long work days on the farm. I closed my eyes, mulling over the busy day of work in the candle shop. One customer after another bought various scented goodies for the upcoming holidays. There’s much to celebrate this upcoming holiday season: opening a new business, renovating an old Victorian house, and moving to the small town of Elmer Heights.

Cobblestone streets, cafés, quaint shops and beautifully manicured parks were just a small taste of Elmer Heights charm. I’d only been here a few months when the locals invited me to join their Esquire Club, a preeminent organization for business owners. Seeing as how I was renovating one of their older homes, it seemed only right, according to them. The townspeople well knew the house, having sat vacant for some time, and they were glad someone was finally fixing up the place. One might wonder how I could afford such an elaborate, historic home. Renovating the house was the first step, but I also received a small inheritance when my grandfather passed away a few years ago. I tucked the money away for such an opportunity, selling what little belongings I could get away with doing without and left immediately for the small village. Despite the recent homicide, the town felt familiar and safe. A dead body in the back alley of main street had been quite the spectacle—even bigger than when the Mayor got caught pillaging the town’s funds for a trip with his buddies to a local beach resort. I’d heard they spent the entire five-hundred dollars on beer and food before returning home empty-handed.

Our Sheriff, Jerry Danielson, was on the scene in a matter of minutes, scouring the doughnut shop alley for clues. He scratched his full, dark beard, eyeing the body, before calling the paramedics. He was a handsome fellow, mid-forties, close to my age, and single. Every woman in town wanted him for their husband, but he staved off most of their advances by choice. Jerry stood square, his large hands running through dark, wavy hair, breathing a heavy sigh. We’ll have to question everyone on the block asap, he’d ordered Deputy Bernstein.

I remember the entire block being sealed off as if that one body were a bomb about to blow our small town off the map. Nosy onlookers gathered around to glimpse the gurney as it carted the body into the coroner’s wagon. When Jerry came into the shop to question me, my mouth ran dry. His rugged handsomeness, coupled with a stoic demeanor, reeked of intimidation. His strong jawline and intense, copper-colored eyes were his most prominent and catching features. I told him, in my nicest tone, that I saw nothing out of the ordinary that day, though there were some strange noises in the alley. I assumed it was stray cats or a raccoon rummaging through garbage.

So, you didn’t think to go out and check? He stared down at his notepad, refusing to bat an eye in my direction.

Well, I just assumed it was nothing. Nothing ever happens here. A smile creased my face before jerking straight.

He cut his eyes toward me and shook his head. Uh, huh, well I guess as of today, that has changed. He tapped his foot, shoving his hand up on his belt.

Uh, how’s your mother, Jerry? Hope her hip is healing nicely, I replied, clearing my throat.

She’s fine—if you think of anything else. He handed me his card, then abruptly exited the shop.

He left me standing there like I’d just been stood up by my prom date. I remember thinking it rude of him, but being new in town, I reserved my opinion of him for a later date. I couldn’t believe he thought