“I’m getting this for the store,” Presley said as she picked out a candle shaped like a pile of acorns. “Oh, and this guy has to go next to it.” She selected an adorable, bushy-tailed squirrel candle. “I’m going to need a basket.”
“Oooh.” I grasped Presley’s arm as inspiration struck. I pointed to another table with a fall display. “Centerpiece idea. Similar to that, but instead of pumpkins and apples, we use pine branches and pine cones. Silver ribbons.”
“And one of Cambria’s candles,” Presley added as she picked up one of the thin slices of tree trunk currently serving as a pedestal for a turtle candle. “Not a turtle. A pillar.”
“Yes. Maybe with a tiny string of fairy lights in the pine.”
Twenty minutes later, we’d picked out an assortment of tree discs, an elegant silver pillar candle, and string lights to take home and create a prototype with. We’d spread the pieces out on the counter, and Harper had made good suggestions as well.
“We might not have decided where we’re having the ceremony yet, but we’ve got our centerpieces,” Presley said victoriously, making Harper and me laugh.
“Hey, girls.” Dakota, Cambria and Harper’s third business partner, came up to the counter from the back room.
“Welcome, sleepyhead,” Harper said affectionately.
“Sorry I’m late.” Dakota looked half remorseful. “I did oversleep.”
“Mm-hmm,” Harper said, a teasing accusation in her tone. “Must be that handsome roommate. Is Ian keeping you up too late?”
“Stop,” Dakota said with a playful flick on Harper’s upper arm. “You know it’s not like that.”
“I know no such thing,” Harper said.
“Wait, you’re living with a boy?” Presley asked the question in my mind.
“Ian Finley owns the farmhouse I moved to when this girl got hitched,” Dakota said, pointing to Harper.
“You probably didn’t know Naomi, Ian’s sister,” Harper said. “She was our dear friend who opened the art studio outside of town.”
“I knew of Naomi,” I said, “but not Ian.”
“They grew up in Runner and inherited a farmhouse between Runner and Dragonfly Lake,” Harper explained. “I lived there with Naomi for three years.”
“She passed away from sepsis a couple years ago,” Dakota said to Presley since she hadn’t lived here then. “She was like mid-thirties.”
“That’s awful,” Presley said.
Dakota nodded. “She and her brother, Ian, fought about the farmhouse. He wanted to sell it. She saw its potential, or rather the potential for one of the large outbuildings to serve as an art studio.”
“So they were estranged when she died,” Harper said, watching Dakota. “Ian’s this bajillionaire who worked on Wall Street. Complete opposite of his art-loving, creative-souled sister whose mission was to make art accessible for everyone.”
“And now you’re living with him?” Presley asked.
“We’re roommates. He’s going through a life thing,” Dakota explained. “He walked away from his Wall Street job and moved here to get away from the rat race.”
“Wow. You two have something in common, huh?” I said to Presley.
Presley nodded sympathetically. “A big something. Is he not dealing well with the changes he’s made?”
“I think it depends on the day,” Dakota said. “He’s not used to having so much free time.”
“Yep, I was the same way. I’d advise opening a business,” Presley said flippantly.
“He’s got a bunch of real estate investments on the East Coast, but he’s definitely interested in investing in something in this part of the country,” Dakota explained. “I don’t know. Getting him to talk is like pulling teeth from an alligator.”
“Dakota to the rescue,” Harper said, grinning.
Dakota shook her head. “I don’t think I’m up for that task. Anyway, Ian is my grumpy roommate, at least for now.”
