The Scent of Rain (21 page)

“You've been here for two days, and my world is already crumbling around me. Do the math, Daphne.”

“You can't blame me for that. You didn't even want me here, so what could I have done to upset your world?”

“I'm glad you're not hurt. You can return the iPad before you head back to San Francisco. Or Paris. Or wherever it is your story hails from. I'll have Anne send your things. Keep her posted on your address if there are any moves.”

Her head was pounding, but she cared more that Jesse had lost faith in her. “But it's our turn to win! Remember?”

“It's Gibraltar's turn to win. As you know, Gibraltar has a no-tolerance policy for bulking one's résumé, and we hired a nose.”

“Jesse, you're not firing me?”

“You never really started, so technically I'm just not hiring you.”

She nodded. “I won't let any of you break me. I'm not who you all seem to think I am, and I will prove it to you. To all of you.”

“There's nothing I can do for you at this point; it's company policy. If you can prove to Dave that you can, in fact, discern between five thousand different scents, the decision will be up to him. As far as I'm concerned, I have my budget back.” He started for the door, and she saw the tight muscle in his cheek tremble. He turned and faced her again. “Sophie's on her way. HR got her number from your emergency info and called her. It's been a pleasure, and I wish you all the best in your future endeavors,” he said coldly.

“I do possess that skill, Jesse. I promise you. On my honor as a Christian. It's just temporarily out of commission. Would you fire someone for having the flu?”

The muscles in Jesse's face twitched. “Mark wasn't qualified for a job with us, and yet he's now working at Givaudan? That's where you want to be anyway.”

“What about the stockholders? What about Dave?”

“That's my worry.”

“Don't you understand? This is how Mark makes things look when he's involved. He makes the truth look crazy, so that only his story makes sense. My mentor assumed he'd be bringing me with him. That we'd both decided to go to Paris.”

“Your same mentor who originally couldn't find a job for him?”

“You're right,” she stammered. “It doesn't make sense. I don't understand it myself, but that's how things get when Mark is around. I never understood it until I was away from him, but now I see how the manipulation is unnerving and I always felt crazy because he worked it that way.”

She felt soiled with shame, and for a moment she questioned her own background. Without her sense of smell, it seemed nothing more than a shaky dream.

Jesse gave an exasperated sigh. The way he looked at her as though she was guilty of something terrible made her feel broken. She wanted to run, but the fact was, she had nowhere to go. Even if she went back to Paris now, Arnaud had been tarnished by Mark's version of their history, which no doubt undermined Daphne's own truth. Her father purchased her a house in Dayton, Ohio, so that her parents could get on with their lives. Something they'd both seemed to want to do since they'd sent her to boarding school at fourteen.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” Jesse asked.

What she needed was for him to believe her, but she could tell by his expression that her wish would go ungranted.

“I'm fine. Go on about your life. Take your iPad. I don't want you to accuse me of stealing that too.” She held the tablet out toward him.

He reached for it. “Your phone's on the nightstand. I brought the charger and I left you Hannah's knitting basket, so you don't have to pretend-knit with your fingers. You get a better product if you use yarn.”

“Thank you,” she called toward his back, unsure what to make of his visit. It had felt like nothing more than a chastisement.

Jesse walked out of the hospital room, and a nurse walked in wearing black, white, and red Elmo scrubs.

“I'll need your blood pressure.”

Daphne heard the rip of the Velcro cuff.

“Are you ready to eat something?”

“Yes,” she said.

“You're in the pediatric wing. We're out of rooms in the adult wards tonight. You'd think it was a full moon with how crazy it's been.”

Daphne allowed her arm to be manipulated while she looked at the sweet basket of knitting goods and wondered what on earth she might have done to upset Jesse. Was it only that he knew she couldn't smell? That she was a fraud? Or had Mark gotten to him the way he'd gotten to Arnaud?

“You knit?”

“Only when I'm nervous,” she answered honestly. “I haven't done it for a long time.”

“You knit hats? Beanies?”

“Sure,” she said. “Well, I used to. I suppose I'll actually need them here in Ohio. I'm from California, and I didn't need a knit hat too often.”

“If you knit the small ones, we have a group that meets here and knits caps for the new babies. They meet in the basement on Saturdays. The hospital supplies the coffee and donuts. Though the women usually bring something homemade. If you're new in town, it's a nice way to meet people.”

Daphne smiled. At this rate, ladies who knit in the hospital basement might be the only set of friends she had anywhere on the planet. She waited for the nurse to get her reading and stared at the basket. So Jesse's wife had been a knitter. She had to get that dream out of her head or she'd never be able to look him in the eye . . . not that she had any reason to worry about running into him again.

Her lot in life felt sealed. As if she was destined to fall in love with men who didn't want anything to do with her. Maybe that's what the dream meant: she lived in a fantasy, and
reality
was precisely what Jesse—and Mark—had just given her. She could claw and clamber for them, or accept that no man she ever wanted would want her back. She was meant to be like her namesake: Daphne, the maiden of Greek myth who was turned into a laurel tree, determined to remain a virgin.

“Eighty over fifty.” The nurse ripped off the cuff. “A little low, but we'll get you back up and running in no time. You were lucky someone found you in that house. I'll tell you, the way they sell real estate these days, you'd think it was perfectly acceptable to kill the next tenants.”

“I think my former fiancé signed off on any inspections.”

“As in he didn't do them?” She clucked her tongue. “You're good to be rid of that one then. One thing you don't need in this lifetime is a man you have to take care of. Trust me on that.” The nurse exited on those words of wisdom.

Daphne was about to dig into the knitting basket when she heard the nurse's voice again. “You too, Anne! So nice to see you. Say hi to Roger for me.”

Anne from the office appeared in the doorway with a bouquet of peach and yellow roses. She was wearing a gray sweater set with jeans that were too short and clunky nurse-like shoes. Daphne could hardly believe it was the same professional person from the office.

“Anne!” She tried to contain her excitement so she didn't sound so desperate. “This is so nice.” She took the roses while Anne rearranged the plastic water pitcher for a makeshift vase.

“Do you know what they charge for these water pitchers in a hospital? It's criminal.”

“No, I . . . haven't been in the hospital before.”

“Let's hope this is the last time. Jesse was worried sick about you.”

“I don't think he was,” Daphne said. “He was pretty angry when he left.”

“That's how men get when they can't control everything around them. You're only reminding him of his weakness. They hate that.”

“No, it wasn't his weakness. There was a gas leak at my house, and he told me before he left that he smelled it. I think he was angry he had to come back to the house.”

Anne narrowed her eyes. “You didn't notice the smell?”

“I just assumed the house had been locked up for some time, so—”

“Never assume anything where gas is involved.” Anne dug into the huge canvas bucket bag that hung over her shoulder. “I brought you some muffins. The food in here is terrible.”

“I haven't eaten yet, but thank you.”

“This isn't only a social call.”

“No?”

“My husband, Roger, and I would like you to stay with us until you get back on your feet. He'll get a team together to look at the house and make sure everything is up to code so you can move back in.”

“Anne, I should let you know that Jesse fired me.”

“No, he didn't. Don't be ridiculous.”

“Yes, he did. He had good reason, too.”

“He can't fire you. Dave would have his hide.” She sat down in the chair beside Daphne's bed. “You'll stay with us. The church men will check out your house. I won't take no for an answer.”

“I couldn't do that to you, Anne. I can stay at a hotel.”

“Darling, this is what people do for each other. Someday you'll be in a position to help someone else, and then you'll pass it on. Don't rob me of my chance to play the Good Samaritan. That would be unkind of you.” Anne smiled.

“You don't understand,” Daphne protested. “I'm pretty used to being on my own.”

“Roger and I are used to having people in the house. In fact, it's too quiet when we don't. No missionaries visiting right now, so we have plenty of extra room. We offer good food on the table and lively conversation. You can even attend our Bible study on Thursday nights. It will be a perfect way for you to get to know a little about Dayton.”

“Anne, really, I . . . My best friend is coming.”

“She can stay with us too.”

Once again, others had come to her rescue. Daphne's darkest thought of the day was that maybe Kensie, the model-like marketing manager, had been right about her. Maybe she
was
just overeducated and of no actual use in the real business world. And Mark, Arnaud, and Jesse had seen the light.

Chapter 14

J
esse pored over the marketing reports again, searching for some element that could help his forecasting, but as usual, Kensie's ideas were all based on her assumption that everyone who bought laundry detergent or diapers, or anything else for that matter, was just like her. She used a focus group of one. Between her extensive use of the dry cleaner and her lack of children, Kensie was hardly Gibraltar's core demographic.

Dave tapped twice and entered the office. “How's the next product cycle going? Got that winning idea yet?”

“Sporty laundry detergent. For winners.”

“Not bad,” Dave said. “That one of Kensie's?”

“Mine. With Daphne's help. I gave her the emotion of winning.”

“I like it. When's she coming back, anyway?”

Jesse looked down at his desk. “She's not.”

“She's not what?”

“Daphne's not coming back.”

Dave's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that she padded her background. She's not capable of doing the job, and you know how HR is about that. I had to let her go.” He kept scribbling to avoid the look on Dave's face.

“And you didn't think to inform me of this? What did Anne say?”

“Anne? Why would she care what I do with my department?”

“Well, Daphne's going to stay at her house. Until her church fixes everything in that dump she bought that nearly killed her, I assume.”

“She is? Anne didn't tell me that.”

“Maybe Daphne told her you fired her. I want you to go and get her back.”

“Dave, it's my department. I'm not going to let you undermine me again. What authority will I have now if I go running and beg her to come back?”

“You'd have
your
job.”

Jesse clenched his hands into fists, but at the sight of Ben's picture, reality stared back at him. It was a tough job market out there. Like it or not, he'd have to go schlepping to Daphne's side and beg for mercy. Which he didn't deserve, after the way he'd treated her, like some scheming manipulator.

“I'd like Daphne to be utilized after the product is selected. She's got no experience with product marketing, as you can see in that ridiculously shaped bottle she had her wedding favor in.”

“Where did you see that?”

“You left it on your desk.”

He hadn't left it on his desk. Of that, he was certain, but he didn't let on. “Did you smell that cologne?”

“Nah,” Dave snorted. “I don't wear that froufrou stuff. We need something we can market to the men of America. The reason the beauty division doesn't make cologne is that men don't buy it. Did you talk to beauty at all?”

“They make shaving cream. We make laundry soap. Smell this.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the bottle Daphne had left him.