Chapter 1“You bought what?” Wes, coming in, set down his keys and laptop bag and the mountain of student papers he’d have to grade later. The entire house smelled like nutmeg and brown sugar and spice; when he’d opened the door, he’d thought Finn must’ve been baking.
He’d been looking forward to that, despite having consumed a decent amount of sugar at the university’s reception for the day’s guest speaker. Finn’s cinnamon-sugar pinwheels beat out mass-produced chocolate chip any day.
Finn said again, apologetically, “They’re candles. Sorry.”
Rain hummed in the background, a low musical counterpoint. October doing its best, even in Southern California. Cool steely skies and pumpkins appearing on porches. The leaves-and-wheat-and-berries wreath Finn had hung on the front door. The smooth
