Another week had passed and still Jon Paul and Monsieur Gerard had not returned. Lydia stood at the shop counter waiting on a young, fussy maid. She was looking at Lydia’s best tapers with a critical eye. She finally said, “I guess these will do. They will have to. Monsieur Bonaparte’s shop is too far to walk in this heat. I suppose local convenience in itself benefits this shop greatly. You and Madame Beauxchampe do as best as two females can do.” She sighed.

Lydia wanted to slap her. The shop was in a good spot, she could not deny that, but that was not the ONLY reason their candles sold well. Hastily she wrapped up the candles and bid the maid a good day.

To her dismay Lydia’s next customer was Brewer Arlette. Wonderful. What he did with ALL the candles he bought she had no idea. He could light a cathedral with his combined purchases. He smiled timidly at Lydia. She suspected he knew she did not much care for him. If he were not after Isabelle’s hand, she might be more agreeable. He asked, “Has there been any word of the Gerards?”

“No.”

“I hope they are safely home. I heard tell of a band of thieves are posing as Franciscans. They travel in simple robes, bare foot as they decrythe avarice of humanity, between here and Troyes. They loot or they kill or do both according to their mood." He shook his head. “What opportunities for evil Pope Boniface has created with this year of Jubilee."

Inside Lydia's chest fear began to tighten. Too vivid in her memory were those murdered Friars Antone had spotted on the pilgrimage. Everything those men owned had been stolen, including their clothes.

Isabelle came out of the work kitchen with a box of fresh candles. The smile she gave Brewer Arlette set off warning bells inside of Lydia.

The smile that spread across Brewer Arlette’s face nearly split it in two. “Ah, Madame it is so good to see you.”

With a hint of a smile, Isabelle said, “And you too, Monsieur.”

The smile was not lost on Brewer Arlette. If his eyes beamed any brighter they would ignite every candle in the shop.

Isabelle handed the box to Lydia. “Take these to Raven Tavern.”

The last thing Lydia wanted to do was leave Isabelle in the shop alone with the stupid brewer, but she had no choice. An order was an order. She took the box and fled. The most she could do was come back as quickly as possible. On fast feet she made a dash for the tavern. Swiftly she walked with her head held high and her eyes fixed on the sign with a carved raven on it. How much damage could Brewer Arlette do in her absence? Totally focused on her goal she did not see the man leap down from his wagon. She ran right into him dropping her box. Were any candles broken? If there were, this clumsy man would pay for them. She started to berate him, because it surely was not her fault. Every hot word she was about to say fizzled into silence. Her eyes grew wide. She whispered, “Monsieur you have returned.”

Jon Paul's smile shot through her like light. He said, “Indeed, I have. We made it in late last night. It was a brutal journey and long. The roads are wreck.” He stooped down and picked up the box. “I hope that I have not broken any.” He lifted the cover and found all the candles to be whole. “They look fine to me, but if any are less than perfect I will pay for the damage.” He returned the box..

As their eyes met, Lydia forgot all about time, Brewer Arlette and the future in general. The amber lights in Jon Paul’s eyes danced for her.

The front doors of the Raven Tavern banged open. Monsieur Joseph, the proprietor said, “What is taking you so long Jon Paul.” He saw Lydia and said, “Ah, I see. Once the two of you stop gawking at each other I would like my orders of candles and mead."

Lydia turned scarlet. She handed the box over the Monsieur Jospeh. “The order is complete.”

“Thank you Mademoiselle Wade.”

Jon Paul pulled a wooden box filled with jugs of mead off the back of the wagon and disappeared into the tavern behind Monsieur Joseph.

The mule, Jeremiah shook flies off his neck and snorted. Lydia went to the mule and held her hand out flat to him. He nuzzled her palm. She wished she had something to give him, but she did not. “Next time we meet, I promise I will have a carrot or an apple for you.” He gazed at her with placid eyes.

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The tavern doors opened and Lydia turned. It was Jon Paul. By his delighted expression he surmised she had been waiting for him. Had she? A huge smile spread across his face. Oh no, he had gotten the wrong idea. He said, “I see Jeremiah has an admirer. Lucky fellow he is.” He asked, ‘Would you like a ride back to the shop?”

Isabelle! She had forgotten all about her and the stupid brewer. The shop was not far. She could run there faster than he could get Jeremiah and wagon turned around. “You are most kind, but I best go on my own. I have been gone too long”

The smile faded a bit, but he still he said, “It was a pleasure to see you this day.”

Before she could stop the words in her head, they slipped right off her tongue, “It was a pleasure to see you as well.”

His eye brows raised ever so slightly. In that instant Lydia knew she had just communicated her interest in him and he had received that communication. His smile increased again.

Flustered she said, “Give my regards to your mother.”

He nodded and said, “I will and thank you for the prayers.”

For some stupid reason she bobbed a curtsey, said, “You are welcome,” and fled.

As her shoes thrummed on the dirty street, Lydia felt Jon Paul's eyes upon her, but she did not turn back. Within moments, she pushed through the shop door. The bell rang. The shop was empty. Surely, Isabelle had not taken Brewer Arlette into their living quarters? She went into the work kitchen, no one was there. For a brief moment she listened at the house kitchen door. She did not hear anything. She pushed open the door. Isabelle was crumbled in her chair staring blankly at the empty hearth.

Lydia rushed up to her and asked, “Whatever is the matter?”

With vacant eyes, Isabelle looked up at her. In a hollow voice she said, “Brewer Arlette has asked for my hand in marriage. He would not have done it in your presence I am sure. I was a fool to allow myself to be alone with him. It has been only a year since Henri’s death, I am not ready for another husband.”

Inside Lydia was screaming, THANK GOD! Aloud she asked, “Are you all right?”

“I suppose. Just a little shaken.”

Trying not to sound too eager, Lydia asked, “How did he take your refusal?”

Isabelle shook her head. “I did not refuse him..”

“What?” Lydia’s entire world began to spin.

Isabelle looked directly into Lydia’s eyes. “I asked for time. In need time to think. While I know I am not ready for a husband, I am weary of this shop.”

Shocked, Lydia asked, “What has brought this on?”

“When I first married Henri I was a wife and happy in my role. When Henri's illness began to get worse, I stepped in to help in all the ways I could. I could run the business side, but the candle making has always been beyond me."

Lydia started to protest but Isabelle held up her hand. "No, you can not honestly say I am a good candle maker unless you plan on going to confession for lying."

Lydia protested, “You are improving.”

Quietly, Isabelle shook her head. “Barely, and I hate the work so..”

Hate was such a strong word. Isabelle had never used it in connection to candlemaking. This could not be happening! Lydia said, “What about keeping the shop open in Henri’s memory?”

Isabelle shook her head. “Everything in this shop reminds me of Henri. Perhaps too much. Your dream got me to thinking.”

Oh no, not that damned dream. Lydia regretted ever sharing it.

“I have been thinking about what Henri said to you in your dream and I realized he would never bind me to this shop. He was not a selfish or arrogant man. When he got ill he apologized over and over from taking me into business when he knew I really did not want to be there.”

Alarmed by this turn of events, Lydia scoffed, “You put too much stock in my dream.”

“No, I do not. I take it as a message from heaven.”

Curses! Lydia was angry with herself! How could she set this in motion? Her life was about to be upended again.

Isabelle took her hand and said, “A man of some means and a pleasant disposition asked for my hand today. I am no fool. If I must have a man, I choose him.”

Before she could stop the question, Lydia cried, “What about me?”

“I will not abandon you Lydia. Nor, willl I sell Henri's tools. They are yours. I spoke to Brewer Arlette about you. There is a small cottage on his property with a hearth. It will be your home and your shop."

This seemed very generous, but Lydia would be with out guild sanction and far from town. Without Guild sanction she could and most likely would be barred from selling her candles. Tears smarted in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Forcing her voice not to tremble she asked, “How much longer do you plan on keeping the shop open?"

"Until I accept his proposal."

"And that would be?"

"A month."

Darkness seemed to crash down all around Lydia. This could not be happening! She had been at the Raven Tavern for such a short time. How had the beastie brewer accomplished so much in so little time?”

Isabelle’s eyes held hers. She said, “Lydia I am so sorry..”

The desire to spit in Isabelle’s face was strong in Lydia. She spun away from her and went back to the shop. All around her were the rows of candles she and Isabelle had made. Well, truth be told, she had made most of them. How could the greatest desire of her life come to her and then be ripped so cruelly from her? Damn her dream, damn Na Simeon’s meddling, and damn Brewer Arlette. Would a day ever arrived when a woman could, of her own volition, own and operate her own business without a husband? If it ever did come, Lydia knew she would be long dead.