Scented Sensibility

by Amelia C. Adams

  However, if he’d known Celeste’s niece was funny and pretty and had amazing eyes and a great laugh, he might have taken a chance on her a lot sooner. He couldn’t picture her coming at him with a high heel, and that put her leagues ahead of his recent dates.

  He had to get back to work, though. He’d already spent too much time there, and it was going to ding his overall record. He started the truck and pulled onto the street, glancing at the shop one more time before he left. He couldn’t wait until those packages were ready to be delivered—he needed to chat with Lindy a little more and see if she really was as great as she first seemed.

  Chapter Two

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve embarrassed myself on every level,” Lindy said as her aunt laughed with amusement. “I almost told him right to his face that I think he’s hot, and then I insulted Derrick, but I’ve never even met Derrick so it’s not like I know what I’m talking about.”

  Celeste wiped her eyes. “Oh, honey, that’s the best story I’ve heard in a long time. Yes, Alan’s hot—I’ve been trying to set the two of you up ever since he started delivering here, but he’s been bitten a few too many times and hasn’t been eager to take another chance. And as far as Derrick goes, I never liked him, and I was glad when he was replaced. No skin off my nose if you insult him.”

  Lindy played with a string that was coming loose on Celeste’s blanket. “Well, I don’t think Alan’s going to be interested in me, either—not after the way I just behaved. I was like a thirteen-year-old, seriously. And who makes UPS guys that good-looking? It’s not fair.”

  “It gets worse, though.”

  “What do you mean? How can it get worse?”

  “He told me that he doesn’t shave on his days off.”

  “No!” Lindy had always been a sucker for a little scruff on a guy. Not out-of-control scruff, but just enough to look a little dangerous, maybe.

  “Yep. We were talking about the UPS dress code one day—I don’t even know how it came up. He has to be clean shaven on duty, but he likes to grow it out when he’s not working.”

  Lindy imagined what that face would look like with just a little beard. “Okay, that’s definitely worse.” She remembered what Dusty had looked like the summer before he went off to college—he’d grown a small beard, and while it was sad because it hid the dimple thing, he looked amazing enough to make up for it. “So, let’s change the subject. How was your bath?”

  “Well, it’s nice to feel clean, but being wiped down with sudsy cloths doesn’t count as a bath, in my opinion. I can’t wait until my back’s well enough for me to stand in the shower again. Trix says it shouldn’t be long.”

  “That’s good. And your chiropractic visits will help.” Shoot. Didn’t matter what they did—they were going to end up talking about men anyway.

  “They should. I’m not looking forward to physical therapy, though. That sounds painful.”

  All right—maybe they could avoid talking about men. But she was still thinking about them, and that wasn’t any better. She sighed. She was a mess.

  “I’m going to make the lip balm tonight after dinner. Are you still selling more buttercream than anything?”

  “Yep—that’s probably always going to be our biggest seller. Huckleberry does well, being Idaho and all, and we go through a fair bit of mango. From there, just do what you feel like.”

  Lindy nodded. She loved tinkering in the workroom. “Will do. How does chicken and mushrooms sound for dinner?”

  Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you picked up a thing or two working at that diner.”

  “A few things. No one cooks as well as Bob, but he did help get me out of my ramen noodle phase.”

  “I’m sure glad to hear it. No adult should ever be in a ramen noodle phase.”

  Lindy headed to the kitchen and put two chicken breasts in a skillet to brown while she chopped the mushrooms. Bob never shared his recipes, but she’d figured out to use heavy cream, thyme, butter, and bacon in the sauce, and within twenty minutes, she had a nice dinner arranged on two plates. She carried the tray back up the stairs, wishing her aunt’s place was on one level, and arranged everything so they were both comfortable sitting on the bed, facing the TV.

  “Okay, let’s do this thing,” Lindy said, flipping on Netflix.

  They watched two shows, and then it was time for Celeste’s medication and bed. Lindy made sure she had everything she needed and was well tucked in, then headed down to the workroom. It was a little odd being down there alone at night, but she made sure all the doors were locked, and then she turned on some soft music just to keep things from being so utterly still. She could still hear the baby monitor, so she’d know if Celeste was all right, but she wouldn’t startle at every little sound.

  She got a box cutter and opened the package Alan had delivered, refusing to let herself think about him for more than a brief second because that would be too distracting. Then she lifted out the pure white beeswax pellets that were used to make the lip balm. Of all the tasks in the shop, this one was her favorite.

  She measured out the beeswax and almond oil, put them in a bowl, and melted them together in the commercial microwave in the corner. After stirring well, she added some vitamin E as a preservative, and then the flavor oils. The rich smell of buttercream made her smile as she measured it into the melted wax mixture. It reminded her of the butterscotch disks her grandmother always used to have around her house before she passed away.

  Once the flavor was stirred in, Lindy dispensed the mixture into the little pot-shaped containers she’d lined up on the counter. She’d do tubes for the next batch—they seemed to sell in equal amounts.

  After about an hour’s worth of work, she had a decent quantity of buttercream, huckleberry, and mango made up, with lids and labels affixed. She’d make more the following night—probably peach and watermelon, which sold really well to their younger customers. Someone had once asked if they made pickle-flavored lip balm . . . she still cringed thinking about it. No way.

  She carried the new product out to the store and arranged it on the shelves, then turned to go back upstairs when her gaze landed on the computer. She’d completely forgotten to ask Celeste about Doug Wall. It must not be terribly important if she’d let it slip her mind so easily—she’d ask her the next day.

  ***

  Gertrude Quinn, the grandmother and matriarch of the Quinn family, entered Scentiments the next morning carrying a potted plant. “Hello, Lindy dear,” she said, setting the plant on the counter. “I’ve come to check on Celeste.”

  “She’s awake right now and watching her soap operas, if you’d like to go up,” Lindy replied. “And what a pretty plant.”

  “It’s a cyclamen. They’re a beast to keep alive, but they’re sure pretty while they’re blooming.” Gertrude took a step as though she was ready to head upstairs, but then she paused. “You used to be sweet on my grandson Dusty, weren’t you?”

  Lindy blinked. She should have realized she’d never be able to hide from the inquiring eyes of Gertrude Quinn. “Yes, during high school.”

  Gertrude shook her head. “That boy . . . now that he has a successful career, I think it’s time he settled down, but he doesn’t seem interested. He’s having too much fun for his own good. I don’t suppose you and he . . .”

  Lindy shrugged, feeling her cheeks grow warm. “If he ever asks me out, I’d say yes, but I don’t think that would happen.”

  “Oh? Why not? You’re certainly pretty enough, and you have a brain in your head.”

  “I do, most of the time, except not when it comes to Dusty.” Or Alan, apparently, but Gertrude didn’t want to hear about Alan.

  “Well, I’ll see if I can steer Dusty your direction.”

  Lindy felt all the color drain from her face. “Oh, no, please don’t do that. I mean, shouldn’t relationships start out naturally? I don’t think they can be forced.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean to force anything. Just to give it a nudge.�
� She looked at Lindy thoughtfully. “I’ll leave it alone for just now, though—you look terrified.”

  “I am terrified. Just a little bit.”

  Gertrude shook her head. “One cannot be a little terrified, my dear. That word means, scared to a tremendous extent. I’ll step back and let nature take its course, but nature had better get a move on because I’m not getting any younger, and I want more great-grandchildren.” She picked up the cyclamen and clutched it to her chest. “I’ll head up to see Celeste now. No need to show me—I remember the way.”

  Lindy watched as Gertrude disappeared up the stairs, then turned and sagged against the counter. If Gertrude said one word to Dusty about her, she knew she’d die of embarrassment. No warning, no fanfare—she’d just die. Plop right down in the dirt no matter where she was. End of story.

  A mother and two daughters came in just then. They each picked up a couple of tubes of lip balm, then spent a few minutes looking at the essential oil diffuser necklaces. As they were browsing, Lindy saw the UPS truck go past, and she watched it turn the corner through the window. She was disappointed that it hadn’t stopped, but it would be another two days before her next shipment was supposed to arrive. She needed to be more logical about these things—Alan wouldn’t stop in just for fun. He had work to do.

  And so did she. After ringing up the purchases and thanking her customers for coming in, she opened up the Facebook page again and mentioned that a new batch of lip balm had just hit the shelves. Then her fingers paused over the keys as she remembered Doug Wall, and she opened that message again just to see if it made any more sense than it had before.

  Still cryptic.

  She scribbled a note to herself to ask Celeste about it after Gertrude left. It was silly to keep forgetting. Then she placed a quick call to the diner and asked if they’d deliver some lunch. That wasn’t something they did for everyone, but Celeste wasn’t everyone—she was good friends with the owners, and they’d offered to help however they could.

  When Danny, one of the line cooks, showed up twenty minutes later with two sacks of food, Lindy pasted on a smile and tried to be polite. Danny and Sammi had a history, and because Sammi had needed to vent, Lindy knew a lot more about this particular person than she really wanted to know. She was tempted to reach out and strangle him, but she figured that probably wasn’t the best idea considering that there was a customer in the shop at the moment, and also because he was holding her lunch, which she badly wanted.

  She handed him a twenty, told him to keep the change, and watched him swagger back outside. A full swagger, like he thought he was all that. She gritted her teeth on Sammi’s behalf, and when that customer left, she flipped the lock on the door and ran the lunch bags up to Celeste.

  “Oh, goodness. It’s that late already?” Gertrude stood up, looking at her watch. “I’m glad to see that you’re not wasting away up here, Celeste. Your girl is taking good care of you.”

  “Yes, she is. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Celeste threw a fond smile at Lindy. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll pop back in later on, too—you need to tell me how that storyline plays out.” Gertrude waved her hand at the television, which was now off, but Lindy imagined she’d seen a few minutes when she’d first arrived.

  Lindy let Gertrude out and relocked the door, then headed back upstairs to her aunt and her club sandwich with onion rings. “Oh, good. You found your pita,” she said when she saw that her aunt was already eating.

  “I did. Thank you.”

  Lindy sat down and opened her Styrofoam container. “So, I went on Facebook and updated the page, and a man named Doug Wall messaged,” she said casually. “I wondered who he was.”

  Celeste stopped chewing and set her pita down. “What did he say?” she asked after a moment. A moment that went on far too long for Lindy.

  “He asked if you’d given any more thought to his offer, and that he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind. Or something like that. I should have written it down.”

  Celeste didn’t meet Lindy’s eyes for a moment. When she did, they were rimmed with red. “Doug came into the shop earlier this year and fell in love.”

  Lindy blinked. “You never told me you had a boyfriend.”

  Celeste laughed. “No, I mean he fell in love with the shop. He wants to buy it. He told me that he’s been looking all over the place for a location like this, and he thinks Scentiments is perfect.”

  “Well, it’s pretty darned cute, but I can’t imagine you selling.” Lindy thought the idea was crazy, but something about Celeste’s face raised alarms in Lindy’s chest. “You aren’t considering it, are you?”

  “That’s just the thing. I wasn’t even willing to discuss it with him. This is my life—I love what I do. But then when I fell off that stupid ladder, I started to think about it. What if that was a sign?”

  Lindy shook her head. “I don’t think God pushes people off ladders, Aunt Celeste. That doesn’t sound very . . . Godlike.”

  “I’m not saying that He pushed me, but maybe He allowed it. Maybe I’m supposed to be learning from this experience.”

  “Maybe you’re supposed to be learning to let other people take care of you for once, not that you’re supposed to sell your business. Come on—think about this. It’s just . . . you can’t sell it.”

  Celeste reached out and took Lindy’s hand. “I know it’s upsetting to hear me talk like this. We’ve created some good memories here together, and I don’t want to let go any more than you do. But I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m turning fifty next year, hon. I should be thinking about retiring and tucking myself away in a cozy cottage.”

  “You’re turning fifty, not seventy-five. And I can’t picture you tucking yourself away anywhere.” Lindy was getting a stomachache. She didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. “What would it take to convince you to stay?”

  Celeste looked surprised. “You’re going to fight me on this?”

  “Absolutely. To the death.”

  She chuckled. “You’ve always been a feisty one. All right, I’ll tell you what I need. First, I need to get out of pain—I can’t possibly decide anything when I’m counting down the hours until my next set of pills. Second, I need to revitalize the shop somehow—there are days when it feels as though I’m doing the same things that I’ve already done a million times before, and that if I don’t get more variety, I’ll lose my mind.”

  “And third?”

  “How do you know there’s a third?”

  “Because people don’t usually list a first and a second unless there’s a third.”

  Celeste smiled. “I suppose you’re right. Third, I want to feel like I’m doing something important. Like I matter. Anyone can make lotion and lip balm—what contribution am I making to the world?”

  Lindy’s heart hurt to think that her aunt didn’t understand how wonderful she was. “I can answer that one for you, but it has nothing to do with the shop,” she replied. “You make a contribution every day because of the love in your heart, and you’ll still be that loving person even if you sell. There are some things that are true no matter what a person does for a living.”

  Celeste wiped sudden tears from her eyes. “Thank you for that,” she said, sniffing. “But you can see that I have a lot to think about.”

  “Was this guy’s offer a good one, at least?”

  “Oh, yes. Very good. He wants to buy everything—the name, the recipes, the supplies—and he’s offering twenty-five percent more than I would have quoted him. That little cottage would be paid in full from day one—wouldn’t that be nice? To live somewhere without a house payment or a mortgage?”

  “It would be nice.” Lindy sat back and looked around the room. “This has been your home for so long, though. I can’t imagine you living anywhere else. And I can’t imagine you not mixing up your lotions and potions.”

  “You said it yourself, though—I’d still be me.
”

  “Yes, you would.” Lindy closed the lid of her box. She’d try rewarming the food later, but for that moment, she’d lost her appetite. “So you’re thinking about this?”

  “I’m thinking about it. I can’t say how seriously I’m thinking about it, though. Get me off these pills and we’ll talk more.”

  “Do you want me to reply to Doug Wall?”

  “Yes. Please tell him that I’ll be in touch after I’m done recuperating. Don’t give him any indication one way or the other—I don’t even know what I want you to indicate.”

  Lindy nodded. “Will do. Is there anything I can get you before I head back down?”

  “Sadly, I could use some help into the bathroom.”

  Lindy helped Celeste with that task, then got her situated before returning to the shop. She let in the few customers who had been waiting outside, and while they browsed, she pulled Facebook back up on the computer.

  My aunt thanks you for your note, and says she’ll get back to you once she’s recuperated.

  Short, sweet, to the point, and noncommittal. That should do it.

  But then he replied. Did she speak to you about it?

  Lindy felt her hackles raise. This had nothing to do with her—why was he even asking? She did, but it’s none of my concern. You may speak with her about it once she’s feeling better. Have a good afternoon.

  There. A little less short, still to the point, but a bit less sweet. If he didn’t take the hint and back off, she’d really let him have it.