The Scent of Rain Read online

  “Givaudan trains just five a year, and most of them stay on and work in the perfume industry. A twenty-billion-dollar industry, I might add, and Givaudan’s doing about 20 percent of the market share. If our nose can help us capture .001 percent of that, she’ll be worth the money. We only got her because her fiancé took a job with us in sales. But it turns out he padded his résumé, so he’s gone. Just the nose is left. We should be dancing in the halls.”

  “Daddy!” Ben was doing his own dance of impatience.

  “Dave, I’ll be in the office in an hour. We’ll talk then.”

  “Just so long as you understand, this nose is gold to our shareholders. You absolutely have to hold her until Christmas. Six months. Got it?”

  “I’ve got it,” Jesse said. “I’ll be in soon.”

  “This job isn’t getting to be too much for you, is it?”

  His boss knew to attack right in his Achilles’ heel.

  “You know it isn’t. I just think a perfumed-trained nose belongs in the perfume industry. How long is she going to be interested in the chemistry of floor wax formulation? Would a lotus-raspberry-scented cleaner really sell more product than lemon?”

  “If you’re what you used to be at P&G, you’ll figure it out. Find me when you get here. I want to see those spreadsheets.”

  “No problem.” He wished the nose had lied on her résumé. The sales guy was someone else’s problem.

  Jesse looked down at the toilet and roughed his son’s hair. “Way to go!” He flushed the toilet, and Ben started to cry.

  Abby appeared in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. “Ben doesn’t like the noise of the toilet.”

  “Sorry, buddy, but you have to get used to it. An unflushed toilet makes women mad. The earlier you learn that, the better.”

  “Jesse, did you talk to your boss about these hours? It’s ridiculous how much you’re in the office. And when you are home, your phone rings constantly.”

  “It’s just temporary, Abby. After I make my numbers this quarter, Dave will let up.”

  “You’ve said that for the last three quarters, and you’re still like a ghost in this house. You know I’m happy to help out, but Ben needs his father.”

  “I know it. I never should have left P&G—but what would I have done with Ben all day if I’d stayed in Cincinnati?”

  “Things happen the way they do for a reason,” Abby said. “But this Dave has some kind of hold over you that I don’t understand. You had a bigger job at P&G, and you were never gone this much.”

  The words hit him hard. He looked down at Ben’s wide eyes. “I promise I’ll do better,” he said. He didn’t have a clue how he’d make that happen, but he’d have to.

  “Ben’s going to be in school next year,” Abby reminded him.

  Jesse rubbed his forehead. “Let me go into the office and take care of this. I’ve got to find this nose’s salary somewhere.”

  “Stop calling her a nose or you’re going to think of her that way instead of as the person she is.”

  “Without a face on her, it’s easy to see her as just another impediment to making my numbers work this quarter.” And if he didn’t make those numbers work, he’d end up just as his predecessors had: out of a job.

  “God will work it out,” Abby said. Faith rolled off her tongue so easily . . . when it didn’t involve her. She had a way of ignoring facts that were inconvenient to her sunny way of looking at life.

  “You’re right, as usual. I’ve got to focus on that equipment Dave is promising. It would speed up formulation and make time to market shorter. One successful quarter with the nose—I mean Daphne—and I’m home free. But Dave is wrong; I won’t change my mind about the equipment upgrade because someone has the ability to discern five thousand scents. How many scents does one need in floor cleaner?”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “If sales can get us that shelf space in dish-washing pods, my troubles are over.”

  “See?” Abby brightened. “There are lots of ways around this if you stop and think.”

  Jesse walked toward his sister and kissed her forehead, then he bent down and lifted up Ben. “You’re going to be good today for Aunt Abby?”

  Ben nodded.

  “Nothing more up the nose?”

  Ben shook his head wildly.

  His phone rang again. “Jesse here,” he answered while he winked good-bye at Ben and made his way toward the car.

  “Jesse, it’s Anne.” Anne was the office manager and Dave’s right-hand woman, and she was married to Jesse’s pastor. Jesse thought if patience was a virtue, Anne must have received a double dose to handle Dave as easily as she did. The staff jokingly called her “the Dave Whisperer.”

  “Hi, Anne. I’m on my way in as we speak.”

  “I’m calling because Dave wanted me to make reservations for you and Daphne for lunch.”

  “The nose?”

  “Yes, the nose. Dave wants you to take her on a tour of the place, then out to a nice lunch and perhaps see RiverScape. You know, show her all Dayton has to offer.”

  “That should take a good hour,” he quipped. “Anne, I’m against the wall on this budget. Can’t Kensie or someone take her? You maybe?”

  “Dave specifically said you. I’m only calling to see where you’d like me to make reservations.”

  “Reservations? That means somewhere fancy. I don’t have time for that. Call the Spaghetti Warehouse and tell them we’ll be in around noon.”

  “Jesse, can’t you at least pick a place with clean tablecloths? Think of it as practice for a date. It will serve two purposes.”

  “It’s not serving any purpose.” Jesse opened his car door and tossed his laptop case onto the passenger seat. “Because I don’t have time to take the nose to lunch.”

  “Daphne,” Anne corrected him. “You know I wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t true: you need to take Daphne Sweeten to lunch, and you need to show her why Gibraltar and Dayton are perfect for her. Dave says that P&G will be chomping at the bit to get her. And Givaudan is opening offices in New Jersey soon.”

  Anne mothered the staff. She baked a cake whenever someone had a birthday. She bought baby gifts and passed around the cards to be signed; she made certain the coffee was always fresh. Anne’s own children were grown and gone, but her motherly instincts got plenty of use at the office.

  “The Spaghetti Warehouse is fine, Anne. This girl—” He corrected himself. “Daphne. If her wedding didn’t come off for some reason, she won’t feel like going to a quiet restaurant that seems like a date any more than I would.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  He started up his car.

  “I’ll let the Spaghetti Warehouse know you’re coming. But, Jesse, since we’re talking about it . . . Daphne might not be ready to date, but it’s certainly time you started thinking about it.”

  “I don’t have time to do my job now, Anne. Sometimes Ben and I barely make it to church, so you’d better talk that suggestion over with your husband.”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “Shoot. I forgot a file. I have to run back to the house. Stall Dave if he gets restless, will you?”

  “I always do. We’ll see you soon.”

  He appreciated Anne more than he could say. With her gentle spirit, she redirected his boss as if he were no more difficult than a toddler in her Sunday school class. And Dave certainly threw tantrums right up there with a few toddlers Jesse knew.

  When Jesse tried to reenter the house, he walked right into the door. Abby was downright paranoid when it came to security. He inserted his key into the lock and opened the door to find Abby and Ben on the living room floor with an enormous wooden track set up.

  “Did you do all that since I left? I was only gone for a second.”

  “Ben’s a builder. Aren’t you, Ben?” Abby stood up. “By the way, I forgot to ask—are you coming home for lunch?”

  “Not today. It seems Dave h
as offered me up to show the no—I mean, Daphne around. You know how good I am at small talk.”

  “Bring her home for lunch!” Abby said. “I’m dying to see what she’s like, and I can keep the conversation going. I’d love to talk about something more than Thomas and Friends.” Abby looked down at Ben and back to Jesse. “No, take her out. You don’t even know how to talk to people anymore. Remember how you used to make everyone feel important? I miss that Jesse. Now even when you’re sitting here, it’s like you’re somewhere else in your head.”

  He gave a half smile. He missed that Jesse too, but that Jesse was long gone, buried under the weight of huge responsibilities and a lack of time. He grabbed the folder he needed and listened to the sweet sounds Ben made for the trains.

  “I might be late tonight. I don’t know how it’s going to work with this new girl.”

  “Are you afraid to take her out because she’s all cultured and stuff? I mean, she’s been in Paris. We haven’t even been to Paris, Texas.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything, other than not getting the equipment my scientists need to stay competitive.”

  “Ask Daphne if she’s willing to sell her wedding dress.”

  “Why? Do you have something to tell me?” He stared at Abby’s apple cheeks and marveled at how much Ben looked like his sister. No wonder everyone believed the boy belonged to her when they went out anywhere. Pride filled his heart as he looked at the two of them. They were the reason it was worth working for Dave. “Doesn’t a failed wedding dress have bad mojo or whatever it is you say?”

  “Not if it’s from Paris. Besides, we don’t know why the wedding was called off, right? Maybe she dumped him because he was a total dog and her gown had magical powers that told her so and she had to shed both him and the dress to be free of his dark evil.”

  “You need to get out more. And quit watching all those Housewives! I regret ever telling you about Daphne coming. There is no drama, other than that I need to keep her around until the next shareholders’ meeting in order to get my equipment, so let’s hope I have some interpersonal skills left.” He switched gears. “What’s this about you needing a wedding dress, anyway? Spike hasn’t proposed, has he?”

  The last thing their house needed was another mouth to feed, and Spike wasn’t exactly the working sort.

  “Not for me. I was thinking for you. Maybe if you had an elegant wedding gown hanging in your closet, you’d remember that there is an opposite sex and get out there and date again.”

  He chuckled. “When would I have time to do that? Besides, you and Anne seem to have my future all planned for me, so why should I go looking? Won’t you both tell me when you’ve found Ms. Right?”

  “Yes, we will. This one just fell into our laps, though, so I’m hoping she’s a believer.”

  Jesse sighed. “She’s from California, so don’t get your hopes up. Besides, if she’s a nose, I doubt she’s going to like the smell of soured milk and discarded french fries that fills my car. I am to a nose what Pepé Le Pew is to that kitty he fell for.”

  “Love makes all things smell beautiful.”

  He groaned. His sister’s romantic view of the world made a jobless guy like Spike look like marriage material. “I have to get to the office. Ben, be a good boy.”

  “If she’s been in Paris and you have to make Dayton seem equivalent, you’d better put on your game face. Show her the romance of Dayton. And remember that she’s probably just had her heart broken.”

  “I can’t afford to feel sorry for her. Can’t afford much of anything with her in my budget.”

  “You can always afford to be kind, big brother, or you might turn into Dave. I already like this girl. Can’t tell you why, but I have a good feeling about her.”

  Jesse shut the door behind him. Why everyone thought he needed a woman in his life was beyond him. Abby nursed a romantic dream that having a ready-made family was the stuff of fairy tales. Sleepless nights, endless laundry, and a man with a hole in his heart didn’t exactly add up to Camelot. If this Daphne had the laser-sharp senses everyone said she did, she’d understand instinctively that he was not an option, and they could move forward to get him the machinery his scientists needed. If she wanted to stay on after that, they’d be able to formulate Basil Lemon Verbena hand soap that much faster.

  Chapter 3

  After San Francisco, Dayton seemed . . . flat. From her taxi, Daphne scanned the landscape. The buildings, the dry brush, everything was one level and mostly an inherent beige color. She hoped the lack of color wasn’t indicative of the new life before her. She sniffed hastily, to the point where the cabdriver turned around to see what she was doing.

  “I’m just smelling. I’m a nose,” she said, but it had sounded a lot better in her head than aloud.

  “I have nose too. My cab doesn’t smell,” he said, obviously offended.

  “No, your cab doesn’t smell. Nothing smells. I can’t smell anything.”

  He blinked several times in the rearview mirror before he pulled up to the curb. “We are here.”

  She stared up at the high-rise that housed Gibraltar Industries, and her first thought was of Mark. Would he be there? What would she say to him? He hadn’t called her since leaving her high and dry at the church four days earlier. Hadn’t left so much as a note, though he’d gone to the trouble to “unfriend” her on Facebook. The fact that he’d handed her father the keys to “their” house didn’t seem like a good omen.

  The cabdriver got out of the car, and she wondered if she’d made a mistake. She had come to Dayton because she had nowhere else to go, and a new environment sounded better than the pitying glances of friends and family. Healing would not come easily, but perhaps that’s why she’d been brought to this fair, flat city. At least that’s what Sophie claimed, and since Daphne had no better explanation for why her life had taken this turn, she went with her best friend’s logic.

  The taxi driver stood on the curb holding her two small polka-dot suitcases. She opened the door, handed him a wad of cash, and tried again to smell.

  “Crazy!” The driver rolled his eyes and scurried back into the car away from her. Men seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

  This is it. Your new life. Daphne wasn’t ready to see her new house. She’d gone straight to the office from the airport, lugging two suitcases, an archery bow, and other less visible but more significant baggage with her. Meeting Dayton without her sense of smell to guide her was like being the walking blind.

  She stared up at the building, which loomed over the city in its importance and made her feel even smaller. She pushed through the door, pulling her suitcases in one at a time. The interior boasted shiny granite walls in eighties colors of peach and green. Her heart sank. Somehow the building had looked more modern when she’d come with Mark for their interviews. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of him, and she silently hoped that he’d be here already and rush to tell her what a huge mistake he’d made. She closed her eyes and imagined all the smells she was missing: the rubber of industrial carpet, the formaldehyde on the modern birch chairs, the benzene from the rubber plants.

  People bustled around her, and she stood watching as if invisible. This is home now. She read the directory on the wall and reminded herself that Gibraltar was on the sixth and seventh floors. She stepped onto the elevator.

  At the third floor the door opened for a man in a gray pinstriped suit with lawyer written all over him. “You going on vacation?” he asked. “If so, you’re headed in the wrong direction. The exit is down. Wish I could go with you.”

  She shook her head. “Just arriving. Came straight from the airport. I’m starting a new job today.” Her enthusiastic over-sharing didn’t seem to spark any sort of interest in her fellow rider, and she retreated into silence. Like an overzealous bloodhound, she kept sniffing in each new space, hopeful. She got out on the sixth floor.

  Gibraltar’s offices were nothing special, like the offices of Givaudan, but then, Ohio wasn’t Fr
ance. Then again, without a sense of smell, she wasn’t the woman they’d hired either. She looked about for any sign of humanity, but saw no one.

  “God help me,” she whispered.

  “Well, you must be Daphne!”

  She startled at the sound of her name and turned to see a middle-aged woman with a dirty-blond bob and warm blue eyes. The woman wore a frumpy polyester suit and sensible shoes, but she carried herself with a natural elegance that would have helped her pull off a visit to Chanel in any outfit.

  “I feel as if I know you already. I’m Anne Robles.” The woman enveloped her in a hug. “I talked with you on the phone, do you remember? My husband was off preaching out of town the day they conducted interviews, and I’d gone with him. It’s so lovely to finally meet you in person.” Anne pulled away and stared at her. “Aren’t you the prettiest thing?”

  “Oh yes, Anne, such a pleasure.” Somehow over the phone she had imagined that Anne smelled like simple pleasures: Dove soap and honeyed hand crème. After meeting her, she’d be willing to bet on it.

  “I knew you’d be pretty. I just didn’t imagine you’d be this pretty,” Anne said. “My, you are a stunner. Wait until the lab gets a load of you. That should pull them out of their own little world.” Anne laughed to herself. “Or maybe not. The lure of obsessive projects to you scientists will never cease to amaze me. Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thanks, I don’t drink coffee very often. Strong tastes interfere with my palate.”

  “Ah, of course.”

  Daphne tugged at her jacket sleeve. “I must be a sight after the plane ride. Is there a place I could freshen up?”

  The truth was, Anne’s warmth made Daphne want to cry. Her own mother hadn’t offered her a hug after the failed wedding; this total stranger had given her more emotional support for simply showing up. It messed with her emotions somehow. Made her want to run and not look back.

  “If this is you a sight, then I don’t want to see what you look like in top form. Have some mercy on the rest of us. You pretty girls always make it look so easy.”