by JM Dragon
“I can’t answer that one, Megan. Sorry, guys, I need to open up. I’ll bring you some more food. I think you both might need it to soak up the alcohol.” She stood and collected the two empty bottles. “Be right back.”
Max grinned as she left the table and whispered, “You are one sly chick, Dee. I never saw this coming.” Her gaze strayed to the window onto the street and saw several people waiting. “Time to get the party started,” she said and headed for the door.
Chapter Twenty-one
Gene wiped her hands on her pants, aware of the nervous reaction she had at arriving at Dee’s house. Once again something had come up and one of her own making. How can I ask Felix and our employees to work into the night without pay and not turn up? The answer: she couldn’t. She knew Dee would understand, unlike her libido that screamed at her to be with Dee.
She pressed the bell and waited. The door opened moments later, and she was lost again in that brilliant smile that sent her heart into palpitations.
“Wow, did you leave work early? It’s only four-thirty.”
“Something like that. May I come in?”
Dee giggled. “Absolutely.”
As the door closed behind them, Dee pulled her close and their lips met, and Gene was lost. At least for a few precious minutes. When they broke for air, she kissed the side of Dee’s lips before pulling away.
“Dee, I can’t stay long and before you get upset, it isn’t you.” She kissed her again, savoring the taste of her lips. When they parted, she said, “I asked your father and some of the other employees to work late without pay to get the place looking the best it can be for the VIP tomorrow. How can I leave them to it and.…”?
Dee framed her face in warm gentle hands and nodded. “Have we time for dinner, because I don’t think this chicken will last another pass?”
“Yes.” Gene smiled, and her heart raced as Dee traced the lines around her lips.
“Then let’s eat and go back and help.” Dee gave her a gentle kiss.
“You don’t have to come back.” The pout she received was enough for her answer. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Take a seat and you can tell me all about your day as I speed up the veggies.” Dee pointed to the kitchen.
†
Felix had tried calling Megan, but she wasn’t answering. That was odd. He left her a voice mail knowing that she’d understand…she always did. He looked at the picture of Megan and Dee at her graduation on his desk. It was a good time, and they’d had a great vacation in Cancun immediately afterwards. It was the last as a family. Why was that? He pulled at his chin, right now he couldn’t recall. He pondered the forthcoming meeting on Saturday with his estranged sister: maybe that was the problem, Dee saw Alice frequently. At least he’d heard this via the canteen grapevine. He was glad. Alice’s lifestyle when she met Max hadn’t sat well with him initially, yet he realized over the years that he’d been just plain too stubborn to make amends. Even Reverend Andrew had performed a few same sex marriages in the last couple of years.
“All I want is my family to be happy and secure. Have I done such a terrible job?” He sighed and scratched his bushy eyebrow. A gremlin that had from time to time invaded his thoughts screamed, Yes, family is Alice and Max too, and he shrank back in his chair. He glanced at the clock on the wall—four thirty. He stood and looked down on the factory floor. Retirement was around the corner and a part of him hated the thought. I don’t have that many hobbies. What will I do with my time? I love this place. If we can keep it maybe Gene will let me stay on for a while longer. First things first, we need to save the damn place.
†
Quinn looked at the caller ID and smiled. “Hey, Charlie.”
“Sorry, Quinn, with Samantha Driscol arriving tomorrow. Gene wants as many hands-on decks this evening to pretty up the place. Not sure when we will be done. I’ll have to cancel our dinner plans.”
“Sure, I understand.” Quinn curled her lip. Another rejection. Maybe Grady wasn’t the eutopia she had first imagined.
“I’ll see you before you head home, right?”
“Of course.” Quinn was about to end the call. “Charlie, do you want another pair of hands? I’m not sure what I can do, but I don’t have anything else planned for this evening as my dinner date just cancelled.”
She heard a belly laugh at the end of the line. “Does that mean ‘yes’?”
“Yes. Have something to eat before you get here. All we have are hot beverages, water, and snacks from the vending machines. Thank you, Quinn, you are one remarkable woman.”
“I know. See you soon, Charlie.” She ended the call.
“Well from your smile you have cheered up enormously since we talked last.”
Ray, the bar owner, grinned at her and she nodded.
“It’s always good to be useful. If things work out, Desrosiers will survive. When it does, I’m going to kiss the first girl I meet.”
There was a loud grunt two seats down the bar.
“Oh, ignore him. It’s just Dean Riggle, and he thinks more of his pickup truck than he does his family and people in general,” Ray whispered.
“Charlie said I’d need to eat since they only have vending machines for sustenance there. Can I get a burger?”
Ray rubbed his chin. “How about I get together a buffet and bring it over say around eight-thirty. I figure if that helps to keep Desrosiers open, it helps us all.”
Quinn grinned and reached across the bar and pulled Ray close and kissed him on the cheek. “Works for me. This town really is amazing.”
Ray laughed and walked away as several people entered the bar.
†
“They deserve more than being take-over fodder for the Driscol’s. What on earth were you thinking, Sheila?” Arnold Sutter gave his younger sister a harsh look. She deserved it. Desrosiers was a prestigious account and worth going that extra mile to keep. “We could have helped. From what I see we are paying a pittance for the product. We could have helped them financially with a less restrictive incentive than the Driscol’s.”
“Arnold, it wasn’t my idea…Quinn suggested it.”
Arnold sucked in a deep breath then released it slowly. “You blame Quinn?”
He watched his sister shuffle around the room and pick up the morning paper.
“Yes, I never understood why you wanted her to be my PA. We don’t think the same, she’s more like you.” Sheila’s face contorted as she stared at him. “Oh my god, you did this on purpose. What has she been giving you? Day-to-day updates on the company? I have to admit—”
“Enough.” Arnold shouted, and Sheila shut up. “I asked you to employ Quinn because I thought she would help you understand the business and you could eventually take over from me. All this has shown is that you are incapable. If Desrosiers is in trouble, so is Sutter’s.”
“Don’t be silly, Arnold, we are a healthy business. I accept that I’m not of your caliber regarding business, but I try.”
“Sheila, I love you and I guess I just wanted you to work out. Next week they are giving me the okay to go back to work. My first task will be to replace you.” He hung his head in despair. Sheila, for all her faults, loved him as he did her. This was hard.
“You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can…unless you work something with Desrosiers that makes me happy.”
“I can do that, but it’s nine, no one will be working now. I promise to make amends tomorrow, Arnold.”
“Monday I’m back at the helm, Sheila, and I expect results.”
†
“I do want to thank each and every one of you for doing this. I will never forget you all for the sacrifice of your time.” Gene smiled at her production manager, Felix, noting his cheeks grew red. She glanced at her watch. Six fifteen. “I’m grateful for the help of my staff, and perhaps a stranger to most here, Quinn Merchant, one of our loyal customers. Thank you all again.” Gene looked at Quinn who grinned and rubbed her hands, appare
ntly as eager to keep Desrosiers open as much as her staff. Perhaps there really was hope for them all.
“Well, Felix, I think this is more your remit than mine. Please take over.”
Felix addressed the people standing in front of him, issuing instructions to several production staff to do basic cleaning in areas they were familiar with. Once they left, he turned to the non-production staff.
“Stan, Quinn, and Larry, ensure that the work places on the mezzanine are okay. Especially Larry’s office, you know he can be a bit of a pig in a poke.”
Laughter followed as Larry grumpily said, “Not true,” and gave Felix a sly grin before leaving the area.
“Charlie, can you check out the office spaces and the main lab? Can’t have Matriarch not being her best…”
“Shouldn’t Dee or I do that? We are the only ones who know the code to the lab.” Gene frowned.
“I figured you and Dee would be the final check to make sure we haven’t missed anything.” He shrugged. “Charlie knows the code. He was after all the janitor a few days ago. Are you telling me a good fairy cleared up all the paperwork you and Dee threw on the floor?”
“But Dad,” Dee exclaimed.
Felix frowned. “Okay. Dee, help Larry and the others. Ms. Desrosiers and I will check on the factory floor. Does that make you happy?”
Dee threw her arms around Felix, kissing the side of his cheek. “Love you, Dad.”
Then those warm eyes turned to her and Gene smiled. “See you later, Dee Lawrence.” She was given a wide smile and her gaze lingered as Dee left the area. A clearing of the throat drew her attention.
“I think we’d better start at the shipping area, no one is assigned there yet,” Felix said.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Lead on, Felix.”
†
Charlie walked into Gene’s office and saw her desk piled high with papers, and the small conference table strewn with magazines all about her profession, perfume. From over the years he knew that she spent little time here. Her heart was in the main lab, where the real perfume making happened; at least that’s what everyone said. The lab was where Gene formulated the ingredients and created wonderful concoctions of scent for production. In the reception area there were framed award certificates, naming Gene as a top perfumier in the US. As he looked around, he saw this room was devoid of anything extolling her achievements.
“Damn shame if she loses everything, but then life isn’t always fair.” My Francine is a casualty of how unfair life can be. He ignored the desk and gathered the magazines into a tidy pile.
From the corner of his eye he saw something move outside and walked over to the window. Sure enough a dark figure was bent over several drums. Frowning he peered harder to see if he could recognize the figure. It was probably one of the guys tidying up. Then his eyes widened as he saw a flame arise in front of the person who half-turned and could be seen holding a blowtorch.
“Damn we don’t use those around here, too many chemicals, what the hell.” He kept his eye on the bulky figure, probably a guy, and reached for the phone. He called Felix’s number but there was no answer.
He watched the man kick one of the drums toward the side entrance of the factory, where a lot of the staff entered and set it on fire. Before he could do anything, the man disappeared inside, and then the drum exploded.
Charlie threw down the phone and ran out of the room, running as fast as he could back to the factory floor. Once inside he shouted for Felix but there was no response and he saw several of the workers busily cleaning machinery. Totally engrossed they ignored him. He scanned the area and, in the far corner he saw Felix with Gene. He waved wildly and finally they saw him.
“Someone is in the building with a blowtorch and we need to find him.” Felix pointed to his ear, frowned, and began to walk toward him. Then an almighty explosion erupted behind him and he toppled forward. Everyone turned to look.
There was a shriek and a flame ten-feet long vented into the room.
“Get everyone out. I’ll find out what’s going on. Carl, call the fire department and then do a roll call in the carpark,” Felix shouted with a ragged breath.
“You can’t do that alone,” Gene said, her voice cracking.
Charlie saw the look of despair and horror on her face.
“It’s my job.”
“Well it’s mine too, we will do it together. Charles, did you see who did this?”
Charlie nodded. “Not who it was though. He has a blowtorch.”
“Fuck,” Felix said. “Charlie, get out with the others.” He strode off toward the direction from where the fire had come through.
Charlie shook his head. “What about the guys upstairs? I’ll warn them.”
Gene muttered something unintelligible and withdrew her phone from her pocket and made a call.
“Here take this, I’ve called Dee. I need to keep up with her dad, she’d never forgive me if anything happened to him.”
Charlie took the phone and watched as she hurried after Felix who was going through the door marked dangerous chemicals.
He closed his eyes as another flame powered through the wall and this time it remained and began to make headway on the first equipment it came to. The call went to voice mail and he left a message, then headed back the way he came.
Charlie shook his head as he looked at the symbol of Desrosiers Perfumery—a darn rose bush. It wasn’t that attractive either but then it might be dormant. Francine had always been the green interested one in the family. A loud crack and the rumble of falling rubble drew his attention to the task in hand. He picked up the rose tree and grunted at the weight. “What the hell do they feed you?” He grinned and headed to the door. He saw a desk with a pen and pad of paper and placed the rose on the floor. Picking up a pen, and situating the note pad he rapidly began to write. Once he finished, he picked Matriarch back up and headed toward his destination.
Chapter Twenty-two
It was nine p.m. Heat, fumes, and groaning timbers. Desrosiers was on fire.
The sound of sirens filled the odd vacuum along with the screech of tires in the parking lot as the fire department and its trucks arrived. The noise increased to the point that it was hard to distinguish if they were from the firemen or the building.
Then, for a split-second, there was silence before a plume of smoke erupted from the middle of the building and the crescendo of breaking glass resonated in the air.
Rapid bootsteps of the firemen crunching the gravel followed along with someone shouting directions for hoses and water connections.
Then, in the midst of the cacophony of sounds, came a voice from the top story of the building that seemed to echo all around. Everything became deathly quiet.
“Help us, we are trapped.”
†
Max hugged her jacket closer as she surveyed the scene—Desrosiers was aflame. Closing her eyes, she blinked back tears as the fire department arrived. She hoped like hell there wasn’t anyone inside. Then the worst scenario happened: a female voice cried out for help and she knew that voice—Dee.
Her heart stopped, she drew in a deep breath, then punched her chest in panic. “Why is Dee here? She’s on a date. Oh my god, Ms. Desrosiers?” Tears slipped down her cheeks as she frantically tried to see where the voice came from. Swiping away the moisture, she watched as a fireman leaped onto a hoist and headed toward the top of the two-story building.
You will be fine, Dee, you will. How could I explain to your family if it was otherwise?
†
Taylor playfully threw a paper napkin at her daughter as she reached for her phone and called Quinn. A projectile heavier than hers hit her on the head.
“Hey, that’s not fair, Ruby. I’m calling Auntie Quinn, and that dog might be in jeopardy now.” She smiled as her precocious daughter held up her hands.
“Sorry, Mommy, do you really think that Quinn will get me a puppy?”
The call went to voice mail and Taylor raised her eyebrows
. It was unusually early for Quinn to switch off her phone.
“Hi, I have something new on Christine Ager, get back to me when you can. Love you…oh and Ruby said hi and hasn’t forgotten about the dog although now it’s a puppy she’s expecting.”
†
Ray pulled up in his truck the moment the fire department arrived. He was later than he’d said to Quinn. Some moron who knew Riggle had started a brawl in the bar as he was about to leave at eight. All hell let lose then when the idiot picked a fight with a gang of bikers. It hadn’t been a good choice.
Now he watched the burning building as red flames were all that he could see until the building on its last gasp collapsed. Then a voice called out for help and his stomach became locked in knots.
“Crap, this isn’t good.” He reached for his phone and called the bar.
†
The click of a cane on the wooden surface to the front door vied with the songs of crickets. Reaching the door, the visitor snorted softly. Lifting a pale wrinkled hand to the doorbell, an index finger pressed it and the peel of bells filled the surrounding area.
There was no response and once again the bell rang out. Still no response.
The visitor glanced around and saw wicker furniture on the deck, and with a deep sigh headed for the nearest chair.
Moments later a man in a deep blue suit, white shirt, and red tie approached the house. “I don’t think there is anyone home. Did they know you were coming, Madame Desrosiers?”
