“Sorry, boy,” Robert Baron cackled. “It’s only business.”
Elbert spent three months in jail for disorderly conduct. When he returned to his apartment, he found everything covered with an inch of dust—and ransacked. Half his silverware was missing. His clothes littered the floor. His bookshelf had been overturned, and many of the books had been burned. To his dismay, this included his careful research on the time touch, along with Santiago’s journal, the remains nothing more than blackened scraps of paper in the dusty fireplace.
Elbert dashed in a panic to his closet. He breathed a sigh of relief. The music box was still hidden safely inside the wall. Even after everything that had happened, breaking a promise to the clockmaker would have made Elbert feel guilty.
His brief moment of relief quickly evaporated.
One more item was missing from the mess: his prized golden pendulum.
CHAPTER ELEVENM IS FOR MENACING
Back at the bakery, Adam had limited free time. Word about the bakery had spread, thanks to the candles that had attracted many customers during Halloween, and, as the holidays approached, more and more people continued to stop by the Biscuit Basket. Some days, there was barely enough room to fit all the customers. Order after order of birthday cakes piled up in the kitchen. No breakfast pastries were left at the end of each day.
When Adam did find a few moments to himself, he slipped to the library in order to read more about the town of Candlewick.
It seemed the boy Jack had not been exaggerating about the candle factory’s owner, who went down in history as a particularly notorious man. It was said none of the factory workers got time off, apart from one day at Christmastime each year. There had also been accidents at the factory, each one expertly swept under the rug.
In the few photos Adam could find, the Gold Mold faced the camera with a greedy smile on his chubby pink face, his enormous belly squeezed into an extravagant suit that was much too tight. In each photo, a golden disk hung from a chain around his neck.
One of those photos accompanied a newspaper article that went into great detail about the fire that had burned down the candle factory.
CANDLEWICK’S CANDLE FACTORY CATCHES FIRE
August 17, 1967
Factory headquarters of Candlewick’s Candles Corporation, located in the town of Candlewick, New York, caught fire on the afternoon of August 15. Police reports indicate one hundred and ten people were caught in the flames and died, including the corporation’s owner, Mr. Robert Tweed Baron III.
Candlewick’s Candles was founded by Robert Baron III’s grandfather, Robert Baron I, in 1913, and soon became known for its high-end, long-lasting scented candles that enjoyed an exclusive niche in the luxury home goods market. The factory was eventually due to pass to Baron III’s heir, Robert Baron IV, who declined to comment for this article. Candlewick’s Candles had been the town’s largest employer, despite recent investigations into what some suspected were hostile working conditions at the factory.
No Candlewick employees or residents were available for comment at press time.
Although witnesses are currently scarce, the lead detective on the case is confident the blaze was caused by simple negligence. “The candles were carelessly stored, and they made a bad situation worse when the boiler blew,” he said. “That thing should have been replaced years ago. There were also a lot of open flames from the candles, which we’ve learned has caused many smaller incidents in the past. You know, the only thing more dangerous than a candle factory is probably a needle factory.”
The detective is also confident that were it not for an anonymous caller to the fire department, the number of casualties would have been far higher.
“More people would’ve died,” agreed a volunteer firefighter. “We got a call about potential smoke just moments before the building went up in flames. We went over for a routine inspection and were able to get some of the workers out.”
To date, there have been no charges filed against the Baron family.
From what Adam could piece together, the candle factory had been abandoned on the hill since the fire. Candlewick itself quickly became a ghost town.
Adam thought back to the candles Francine had. She’d mentioned they’d come from a small town just north of the city.
Adam tried to locate a list of the survivors’ names, but couldn’t find any. The curly-haired librarian gave him a puzzled look when he timidly asked if she knew where such records were kept, and soon began peppering him with curious questions, so he left in a hurry without the answers he needed.
On his way back home, an uneasy feeling lingered. He couldn’t believe he’d met Jack the same month the candle factory burned down. Had they met mere days before the incident? What if it had been that same day?
If he could somehow go back in time again, he could warn Jack and the rest of the town.
But right now, there wasn’t anything he could do. The snow globe stayed empty each night.
About two weeks after Adam’s visit to Candlewick, a new visitor stopped by the Biscuit Basket.
It was almost closing time. Adam was wiping down the counter when the door opened.
“Hello, hello,” greeted Uncle Henry in his usual cheerful manner. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“Something specific,” a soft voice answered.
It was no normal voice, but one tingling with frost and danger—like a sharp icicle dangling from an awning and ready to break off any moment. It was this voice that made Adam turn. When he saw who stood in the bakery, he dropped his rag.
The tall stranger in the black suit stood before them. It was the same man who had stalked Adam in the streets, on the corners, and behind the windows of the bakery. Underneath his unkempt dark hair were a pair of long eyebrows that swooped down like two angry
