Page 24 of Hex Appeal

“Curtains,” Welles says.

“Curtains,” I confirm.

Dark velvet panels unroll from the ceiling, covering most of my candle displays and transforming the bright Scandinavian-inspired shop into something darker, warmer, and infinitely moodier.

Welles slowly turns around.

“This is impressive.”

I preen.

I can’t help it.

“Thank you.”

“You really do this every day?”

“Almost every day.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.” I smile. “But look at it.”

People are already settling into the seating areas around us. Candles flicker on the tables while low music plays. Valerie moves behind the bar, setting up for the night.

Welles takes it all in.

“Worth it?” he asks.

“Every time.”

He nods like he understands.

For some reason, I think he actually does.

“So…” He turns toward me. “Candles.”

“Candles,” I confirm, curious to see where he’s going to take this.

“What made you decide to open a candle shop?”

“It was kind of a whim, to be honest. Then again, it also feels like something my whole life was leading toward.”

“How so?”

“I’ve loved candles forever. My grandma used to make them with us in her utility room off the kitchen.”

“Your production studio?”

“Yes! And even after I started my grown-ass woman job, candles were still a huge part of my life. I’d light one the moment I got home. The scent would transport me to a memory. Or at least make my brain shift from work mode to relaxation mode.

“I started making my own again a few years ago. Gran sent me her old kettle and thermometer. I started making them on my stove as gifts. Then I’d do a few custom orders here or there.

“When Gran gave us the house… it was a surprise. But it also seemed like a sign.”

“A sign?”

“To stop going to a job every day that was just about a paycheck. To stop working for people who demand respect and loyalty but don’t give either in return. It was a sign to stop dreaming about doing something more and start living for mine.” I wrinkle my nose. “That probably sounds cheesy.”