The Scent of Rain (22 page)

Dave pulled back. “I don't want to smell it. We're not a perfumery. We make practical products for middle America.”

“So which of those practical products would you like Daphne to make smell better? Because I think the soccer moms of America would love for their sons and daughters to smell like winners, don't you?”

Dave tapped the desk twice. “If you believed that, why did you fire her?”

Jesse knew the real reason he'd fired her, but there was no way to admit it without labeling himself a giant jerk. He'd fired her because seeing her unconscious that day on her front lawn had nearly killed him. He couldn't take on that kind of responsibility again—couldn't handle another pair of eyes looking up at him with trust.

He could just tell Dave that she didn't have her sense of smell. That would be it. But he couldn't betray her, couldn't hand her over to Dave's wrath. That would make him no better than Mark. Or Daphne's own father.

“Get her back here and have her work closely with Kensie on this sporty thing.”

Jesse couldn't take it. “Dave, Kensie doesn't know what the heck she's doing. She hasn't had one successful product launch, and her marketing reports don't prove themselves once the sales reports come back. I need to see some hard numbers to make this work.”

“It's all a crapshoot,” Dave said. “You think anyone knows what's going to be successful? It's a weak man who blames his team for his losses.”

“Blames my team? Dave, I can't work like this. You won't let me run with my own ideas, but you give me a marketing manager with no real experience, and I'm supposed to make something of it. My hands are tied. And now you don't want to let Daphne do what she does best.”

“What are you coming after me for? You're the one who fired her. Take some responsibility!” Dave was on a roll now. “Don't turn this on me because you don't know how to fix it. I've given you nothing but assistance to make this quarter big, but you keep coming up with excuses. It's always someone else's fault. The buck has to stop here, you understand?”

Jesse understood perfectly. He was done running on fear. If he blew it this quarter, he was going to blow it by trying something different. Not one of Kensie's ridiculous, twentysomething ideas. Jesse was practically shaking, but he wasn't going to back down. He would take the bull by the horns—the cedar, bergamot, neroli-scented horns. He stacked the marketing reports on his desk and tucked them under his arm. “I'm going to work in the lab.”

“Thatta boy. Light a fire under that systematic way of yours.” Dave smiled as though he'd won the battle.

Which he had . . . but Jesse intended to win the war. If he didn't, Gibraltar would be no more.

He practically ran to the lab, where he found Willard and John each working separately in a corner of the lab. He set the marketing reports down and donned a lab coat, some gloves, and a pair of safety goggles.

He headed to one of the hoods and turned it on. “What are you working on?”

“Same old. You got something?” Willard asked.

Jesse looked to John, who tended to be the more rogue of the two. “I need some manganese heptoxide.”

John's eyebrows rose. “Are you planning to blow something up?”

Jesse lifted the marketing reports. “I am.”

“I'll do it,” Willard said with glee. He got two bottles off the shelf and mixed the tiniest amount of two chemicals under the hood. The raw whirling sound would cover any unexpected noise.

“Here.” Jesse handed him a manila folder, which Willard touched to the solution. An explosive fireball took the entire marketing plan up in a matter of seconds, and he and Willard laughed like boys in the backyard playing with fire.

“I'm doing the next one,” John said. Number two went up with equal force and laughter.

“I assume you want the pleasure of doing the final reports,” Willard said.

“I do,” Jesse replied. He lit the other two on fire one by one and washed his hands of Kensie's curse.

“You should have done that a year ago,” Willard said.

“Everyone should have done it a year ago. We're not doing lollipop-scented dish soap, and there will be no more cotton-candy-flavored cough syrup. We're starting a new team as of today.” He pulled out the bottle of Daphne's cologne and set it in front of Willard. “I want an idea that goes with this scent. We'll do a mock-up by the next staff meeting. If I'm going down, I'm not going without a fight. And I'm not going while backing fruity, flowery air freshener. I've had enough!”

“I think Popeye has just eaten his spinach,” John said.

“Darn straight. It's about time someone did.”

For some odd reason Jesse didn't think about Ben, or what tragedy could befall his family if he lost his job. It was time he trusted his gut. Life wasn't for sissies.

John stared at the ashes that blew under the hood. “What are you going to tell Dave?”

“I'm going to tell him we have the product to put Gibraltar back on the map.”

“Daphne made this?” John asked.

Jesse uncorked the stopper. “Yes.”

Willard breathed in deeply and nodded. “That's nice. Real subtle-like, and she's got her notes down. I don't smell an ounce of alcohol or any of the binders in this.”

He passed the bottle to John, who lifted it to his nostrils and sniffed deeply. Then he swirled the bottle like it was a fine wine and did it again. “You want a masculine scent for a household product?” he asked.

“I want that scent for a product. Laundry detergent. Sporty for soccer moms of winners. Lighten it with some citrus maybe, so it's not so masculine.”

“Did Daphne give us the rights to the product?” Willard clarified. “And are you sure it's hers?”

Jesse was certain it was hers, and for that reason alone he owed Daphne an apology. Whatever happened in Paris, whatever Mark had done to get her job, Jesse was certain she'd been the victim. If he never trusted his gut again, he was sure of that.

“This isn't the way we do things, I understand, but we're being set up to fail. If we go down in a blaze of glory, I want you all, including Daphne, to have something on your résumé that shows creativity and a marketable scent. You agree that's marketable?”

The two men nodded in unison.

Willard smiled broadly. “You feel a responsibility toward Daphne already, hmm?”

“Willard, it's not what you're thinking. I made a deal with her about staying. Then the minute I doubted her, I reneged.”

“You're a charmer.”

“She's in love with her ex-fiancé and still trying to make her way back to Paris. I'm just trying to help you all get where you want to go before we're all fired.”

“I hope that won't happen,” Willard said. “I don't want to go back to the big boys. I like my quiet lab.”

At that moment the door opened and Kensie pushed her way in. She glared at the three of them, then focused on Jesse. “You! What did you say to Dave?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“We're a team,” Willard said. “But we haven't had one hit since we went with your marketing plans, Kensie. So we're trying our own thing. The lab has just gone rogue.”

“We'll see about that.” She turned and stormed back out.

Willard shook his head. “I pity the man who marries that girl. I imagine she'd call the cops if you left the toilet seat up.”

“She's only doing what she thinks she has to do to survive,”

Jesse said. “It's a shame she learned so much from her superiors.”

John cleared his throat. “So, you're not interested in that new girl, are you?”

“Daphne? Of course not.”

“Good,” John said. “I think I might like a girl like that. Scientists who look like her are usually more apt to be super-models in a music video, but she's the real thing. She's got brains and beauty.”

“I've met plenty of pretty scientists in my day,” Willard said.

“No,” John said. “You just lost your eyesight a long time ago, and probably imagine they all look like Daphne to build your own ego. Trust me, they don't.”

Jesse tried to act unaffected by John's announcement. “Well, make sure you follow the employee handbook for any dating within the workplace. The last thing we need to do is give Dave the chance to fire us before we've tried our revolution.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

“But first, I've got to go hire her again.”

The men stared at him.

“You understand she's leaving as soon as she can to go back to Paris.”

“Even better. No commitments,” John said, his eyebrows wiggling.

Jesse would personally hand Daphne back to Mark Goodsmith before he'd let her near John's clutches, but the truth was, he had some major groveling to do. He wouldn't blame Daphne if she wouldn't give him the hot air off her breakfast after the way he'd treated her.

Chapter 15

D
aphne was released from the hospital the following day. Anne picked her up in a giant Buick and drove her across town to the quiet suburb where she and Roger lived.

“I don't know how to thank you for this, Anne.”

“Then don't,” Anne said simply. “Roger went to the airport to pick up your friend. Sophie, right?”

“Yes, Sophie.”

“How do you two know each other?”

“She lived near me when we were kids, but her parents moved out of the city before we got to middle school.”

“And you stayed in touch? That's amazing.”

“You'll see why when you meet her. She's pretty fantastic. She wrote me letters the whole time I was away at boarding school. Real letters too. It's not like we had e-mail.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She is. I don't know what I would have done without her. I didn't have a lot of friends in boarding school.”

“That sounds like a lonely life, Daphne. Did your parents travel as missionaries when you were growing up?”

Daphne's face felt hot as she explained her parents in the best way she understood. “My parents were pretty important people. They weren't home very often, and they did a lot of entertaining. So they thought it best that I get a good education without having to be quiet every time they had a dinner party.”

Anne turned, her mouth dangling open. She promptly snapped it shut.

“It's all right. Really. Lots of kids all over the world go to boarding school, Anne.”

“Oh, I know. I just never met anyone who actually did it.” Anne's eyes welled. “I'm sorry.”

“It wasn't a big deal,” Daphne said. There she was again, trying to make it better for everyone else.

Anne wiped her eye with the back of her thumb. “I'm sorry,” she said again. “I just can't imagine sending my babies away. It was hard enough to do it when they got old enough to get married.” She laughed. “That's why I had to go work for Gibraltar—so I'd have somebody to mother.”

At the name of Gibraltar, Daphne felt the sting of rejection all over again. “I'm glad Sophie's coming. She'll help me figure out what I'm supposed to do next.”

“I think you're supposed to sit still,” Anne said. “Daphne, from the sound of it, you've spent your entire life moving from place to place. It's time to make a home, don't you think?”

“That's what I thought, but I think God said no when my fiancé bailed on me and then took my job in Paris. With Jesse firing me, I have to consider that maybe I'm not supposed to be here in Ohio either.”

“A person needs roots. How can you ever feel settled if you're always in a new place?”

“I don't think I've ever felt settled. I imagine that would be foreign.” She forced a laugh.

“I'm going to have a talk with Jesse.”

“I wish you wouldn't. I don't want to be here if he doesn't want me. It turns out he didn't want me to begin with. Dave forced me on him.” She settled back into her seat. “Sophie's the only person who ever really wanted me around. I thought Mark did, but turns out I was wrong about that too.”

“Well, Roger and I want you. We're looking forward to having you, and Roger is excited as all get-out to get started on your house. He's one of the few men I know who love honey-do lists, and the truth is, I don't have anything left on mine. As it is, he practically makes the bed before I get out of it. If I'm not careful, one of these days I'm going to be molded into hospital corners.”

Daphne couldn't imagine what it would be like to be married to a man who made the bed. She scrutinized Anne's profile and tried to find some key, some understanding that unlocked what made her so lovable. The woman had the same sweet nature that Sophie did, but Daphne could never be like either of them. Her hopes for a settled future dwindled with each suburban house they passed.