How could God take away her most precious gift? It made her wonder if she’d done something wrong, something she wasn’t aware of that harmed another. But God wanted good for her, for all of His children, so she kept looking for the lesson in her affliction. God had His reasons. Reasons she might never understand, but still she ruminated on possibilities.
The perfume market, with its glut in the marketplace, was oversaturated. She didn’t want to miss the message this time. She’d ride God’s wave that had brought her to Dayton. For the next six months anyway. She’d rely on her chemistry background to get her through. Her nose might not work, but her science skills did. Chances were, Gibraltar Industries would never know she couldn’t tell the difference between an iris and a rose.
Chapter 8
Jesse watched as Daphne entered the office, once again weighted down by her suitcases and what appeared to be a weapon of some kind. Her ruby lips looked as if they’d been stung by a thousand bees in the night, and he knew he couldn’t let her enter household’s department meeting without asking a few questions.
“Have a seat. You really didn’t go to your new house yet?”
She shook her head. “That involves all sorts of things. Groceries. Turning the heat on, making sure there’s furniture. I’m just not ready for that yet. I want to focus on the task at hand. Our laundry detergent. I have a good feeling about this, Jesse.”
“I’m glad, don’t get me wrong. I have a new enthusiasm for what it is you do, but I think you may want to take some time to get yourself settled before moving straight into Gibraltar’s production schedule. It moves very quickly and becomes grueling once the process is started. If you’re not prepared for it, I’m worried you won’t make it through the cycle.”
“I’m ready for it,” she said, straightening in her seat. “Totally ready for it.”
Jesse recognized her avoidance immediately. It was a tactic he used well. “Daphne, after my son was born, my wife worked herself to the bone to be the perfect mother. She was so weary and didn’t even know it. I’m concerned you’re not quite up to this yet.”
“I’m fine,” she said flippantly.
“Let me finish.”
She sank farther into her chair. Her posture reminded him of Ben when he found out his time-out wasn’t quite over.
“I was so excited about Ben and how my life had changed, I failed to notice that Hannah wasn’t sleeping—even when the baby was. I was so lost in my own bliss, being the youngest vice president and a brand-new father, I missed what was really important. I can’t help but wonder, had I helped more, been more aware, could I have changed the outcome? What if I’d been there when she took her pill? What if I’d been the one to give it to her? I would have seen her allergy signs.” He paused as it took all his strength to say the final part. “Ben would have a mother.”
Daphne pressed her lips together. “I don’t believe my circumstances are anywhere near so traumatic. Jesse, I got dumped. By a tool. Really, I was saved from a miserable life, and one day I’ll get to where I know that’s the truth. But until then, I don’t want to wallow in it. Did you want people to let you wallow in your sorrow, or did you want to get on with life?”
Now who had overstepped his boundaries? How could he make her understand that one didn’t move forward without dealing with the pain of the past? Maybe it wasn’t his responsibility, but as he gazed at her he saw so much of himself, it felt unbearable. He couldn’t stand to watch her be swallowed up by one mistake and give up the future she really wanted. He knew how Dave worked, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t lose her dream to keep their agreement.
“What did you do to your lip?”
She pressed them together with force, and he wondered if she really thought she could hide the fact that her mouth would enter the conference room before she did.
“We’re going to be late to our meeting,” she said. “Can’t we discuss this later?”
He drew in a ragged breath and did what he had set out to do—make sure she wasn’t taken by surprise. He withdrew the letter from Mark and placed it on the desk between them. “Do you recognize this?”
Her fingers twitched as though she wanted to reach for it, then her strength of will won over and her hand muscles relaxed. “Our personal lives shouldn’t matter. We’ve got a job to do, Jesse, and we’ll do it and then we’ll go on our merry ways. You’ll be the hero of Gibraltar, and I’ll go back to Paris.”
“I don’t think that’s possible with Mark at Givaudan.”
He watched the fight seep out of her. And then, acceptance.
“Mark’s at Givaudan?”
“I think it’s best if you sit this meeting out. It will give your lip a chance to deflate, and we’ll have more time to discuss the formula.” He pushed the letter from Mark toward her. “And, Daphne . . . you can’t live in a hotel the entire time you’re here.”
“Who are you to tell me where I can live?” she snapped. “There’s plenty of time for the house. I want to get to the lab and get my station set up and finalize the scent for Loser.”
“By the way, you can’t have that here.” He nodded toward the bow. “It’s against company policy to have a weapon in the office.”
“It’s not a weapon, it’s a bow. For archery.”
“People hunt with them. It’s a weapon.”
“We had an archery team in France.”
“We have a softball team. You can’t keep your bat in the office either. After a few weeks of working here, you may have a better understanding of why.” He chuckled.
She nodded. “Jesse, what is it you want from me? Why do you care so much how I’m dealing with my failed wedding?”
He felt their connection weakening in her accusatory tone. She wasn’t ready to connect the dots of how they both came to Gibraltar in weakened states. But he was determined that she not get stuck there forever. Six months was all she had to give him, but already the idea of her leaving squeezed at his heart. Which made him more determined. A beauty like Daphne didn’t belong at Gibraltar. She had so much more to offer, as he’d had once.
“Your lip is the size of Texas, I haven’t given you the base notes we want you to create from, and that letter may have an effect on you. It may not, but it often gets rough in there. So why don’t you plan to sit this one out?”
She looked at him with a determined set to her jaw. “I’ll just tell Dave I’m not ready with my creative process yet. It’s only been one day. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“You haven’t met the real Dave yet.”
She reached for the letter, stuffed it into her pocket, and left for the conference room without looking back. She definitely wasn’t lacking in confidence.
Jesse dropped his head in his hands. Daphne hadn’t even read the letter, and he took that as a bad sign. When he was grieving, he kept bad news at bay because all he could deal with was the grief at hand. He’d hoped seeing what a dirtball her ex was would help her move forward, but apparently she wasn’t ready.
If she crashed and burned without finishing their sporty laundry detergent, Jesse’s hopes of keeping his numbers high were hopeless, and he’d exposed himself for nothing.
Well, maybe he was wrong. Maybe avoidance would work for her. In any case, he had a meeting to run.
As he walked into the room, he realized he was too late. Dave was already in the conference room and had hijacked Jesse’s meeting. Daphne was wide-eyed and her breathing shallow as Dave paced behind her, waving a series of scent strips. Daphne turned around and eyed them as if they were medieval torture devices.
Jesse suddenly remembered two very important things: Anne had told him that Daphne didn’t drink coffee for her palate, but not only had she ordered coffee at lunch, she’d sprinkled salt in it.
Was it possible that she was having trouble with her sense of smell?
“I can’t wait to show you all what this little machine of a nose can do,” Dave was saying. “There are formulators, and there are
noses, and I’m about to show you, my team, the difference. I realize that some of you”—he glared at Jesse—“think that bringing Daphne on was a mistake, but when you see the difference in creating fragrance versus covering the scent of a cleaning product with another scent, I think you’ll understand.”
Jesse watched Daphne carefully. Her deep blue eyes darted about the room in fear. Maybe she had a cold and wasn’t up to par, but it seemed deeper than that. By the stone-cold expression she wore, he knew he had to buy her some time. Why he felt the need to protect a woman he hadn’t even wanted on his staff, he didn’t understand. Maybe he’d suggest she take some time to get settled in Dayton before really starting to work, and that would take care of whatever was wrong with her nose.
Dave fanned and shook the scent strips for effect. “I have in my hand a few scent strips. You’re all familiar with these.” He raised his eyebrows toward Jesse, and Jesse instinctively knew this was for his benefit. It wasn’t enough that Dave had hired Daphne without asking him. His boss simply had to humiliate Jesse in front of the staff to undermine his authority.
Jesse cleared his throat but caught himself before he said anything out loud. What good would it do?
“Did you have something to add, Jesse?” Dave asked.
Jesse tried to recover a poker face. Dave didn’t want Jesse or his department to succeed. They were bleeding money, and Jesse would either be a hero or another zero, like the three department heads before him. No one had successfully managed Jesse’s group to a profitable quarter since Dave himself had done it, many years before. Jesse may not have understood the motive, but he suddenly felt as though he was nothing more than a pawn in whatever game Dave was playing.
Dave stood at the head of the room, his impressive stature demanding full attention. Jesse was forced to take a backseat in his own meeting.
“I hold in my hands ten scent strips with various scents, courtesy of our lab.” He looked toward Willard and thanked him with a nod.
Willard tapped a pencil, anxious to get back to his lab.
Across the table, Kensie grinned as if taking pleasure from Daphne being on trial.
Jesse stood. “Dave, I’d like for this department to start working as a team, and I fail to see how this display will help the team know they are all of equal value.”
Jesse couldn’t begin to explain his protective stance toward the nose he hadn’t wanted to begin with, but he felt as though God had appointed him her protector. Left without a friend in a town where she knew virtually no one, the fiancé who abandoned her taking her job in Paris, no one with her to help her get settled into a home she hadn’t even selected. It seemed like a pile of wrongs he somehow wanted to right.
“Precisely my point. If we don’t know what each member of the team is capable of, we have no idea how to make full use of their skill set. Isn’t that right, Daphne?”
Daphne offered a half smile, but with her blown-up lips, it looked like she’d blown Dave a kiss.
Willard sighed. “I know what a nose does, Dave. Is this necessary? I’ve got product curing, and it’s not going to wait forever. I’d just as soon get to the meat and potatoes of the staff meeting and find out my marching orders for the week.”
“Dave,” Jesse said with a forced chuckle, “I appreciate your zeal, but Daphne’s got nothing to prove to me. We’ve got a full agenda this morning.” He watched as the blood drained from Daphne’s face. “We all know what a nose does. I fail to see how a demonstration is going to help us this morning. She’s well on her way to creating our new scent, and I don’t want her nose getting corrupted. You don’t mind, do you?”
Dave quickly regrouped, pressing the fanned scent strips together. “Of course not. Whatever it takes to keep her asset in tune, I’m for that. We’ll cut it short, and I’ll give her shallow scents that won’t corrupt her finer tuning. Daphne, will you come up here, please?”
Jesse clenched his teeth at how easily Dave dismissed him.
Daphne’s fingers were trembling, but she opened her notebook. “I’d rather sit. It helps me concentrate.”
“Very well. Don’t want to mess with the process,” Dave said, still waving the strips maniacally.
“Dave, Daphne doesn’t only recognize scents, she creates based on an emotion. Ask her to describe a feeling and put it into a scent, so Willard and John can see how she works differently. They know how to decipher a scent.”
Dave dropped the scent strips on the table. “All right, Daphne, describe love.” He looked toward Kensie and winked.
“Romantic love?” Daphne asked. “Motherly love? First love? They’re all different. One is like fire, one like a warm towel from the dryer. First love is sweet and soft, like carnations.”
“Okay, love is too many emotions. I get it.” Dave tapped his chin. “Happiness. Make me a scent full of happiness.”
“Happiness has a special kind of energy. It has zing, so I’d definitely have citrus involved, something universal for the top note, so that when you open the container your first experience is exhil—”
“We know all this from marketing studies,” Kensie interrupted. “No offense, Daphne. I’m certain your gift makes a difference somewhere, but I just don’t see it happening here. I don’t see that she has anything to offer that John Banks doesn’t already do.” Kensie looked across the table at the scientist. “John, do you think there’s something we’re missing here at Gibraltar?”
“Well, obviously there is,” John said. “Or we’d be profitable. I think we should get back to business so Willard and I can get back to the lab.”
“Kensie, you were the one who told me we needed to have better scents to get noticed in the marketplace,” Dave said. “Isn’t that what your focus groups said?” Their boss glowered at Kensie. He wasn’t used to her not backing him up readily, and his feeling of betrayal showed.
“Well, y-yes,” she stammered. “But I didn’t mean we needed to have a nose on staff.”
Daphne squinted at Kensie, a questioning look on her face, and for the first time Jesse found himself wondering what kind of power the young marketing manager had over a man like Dave, whose very presence invited respect. Kensie rarely offered it to Dave.
“You didn’t, huh?” Dave walked over to Daphne and swept a scent strip under her nose. “What’s that, Daphne?”
The strong scent of sour apples permeated the air. Honestly, anyone who’d ever had a Jolly Rancher would have guessed it, but Daphne remained silent. Whatever was plaguing her nose was serious. Jesse set his finger on her notepad beside the word apple.
She glanced up at him, and he gave a curt nod.
“Apple.”
“I know it’s an apple. What kind of apple?”
Jesse cleared his throat and pretended there was something in his eye and puckered his lips.
“Green,” she said. “Sour . . . Granny Smith.”
Dave appeared unimpressed.
Jesse was worried that the strips and their scents would get progressively harder. He had no clue what he’d do if Dave came up with bamboo or iris or something equally complicated. Daphne fidgeted in her seat as Dave waved the next scent in front of her. This one was a wood of some sort, but Jesse couldn’t have placed the type if his life depended upon it. He slapped the table, startling the chemists on the other side.
“It’s a wood,” Daphne said, understanding his odd game of charades. “There are a lot of competing scents right now. I’m having trouble placing it. It’s better for a nose to keep the scent strips far away from each other so the scents don’t mingle.”
“Dave, any of the chemists in here can do this,” Kensie said.
“I think what Kensie is trying to say is we’ve got chemists on the clock,” Jesse said, trying to regain control. “Time is money, and we’ve got a lot to cover today. Why don’t we start with you, Willard? How’s your current formulation?”
Willard, who was like a cross between the Quaker Oats man and Regis Philbin, stood up. He liked to
make things official. “Marketing tells me that a sink cleaner is needed that’s gritty enough to get grease off of stainless steel but wipes away clean. Apparently women”—he paused—“excuse me, brand users, are complaining that the grit leaves a film. They like the springy lemon scent, but the residue has to go. I’m working on that formula.”
“Excellent,” Jesse said, hoping to regain control of his own department meeting. “Any success yet?”
“So far it’s not as effective without the gritty texture. I’m hoping to add more vinegar solution to thin it without lessening its impact.” Willard checked his watch. “Anne, can you get me the minutes for the rest of the meeting? Because Dave wants Daphne to perform circus tricks, and Kensie wants us to worship the marketing god, and I have real work to do.” Willard exited as if the walls of Jericho had come down around him.
The chatter rose in the room, and several conversations were going on at once. Normally, Jesse would rein it back in, but at the moment he just wanted Daphne to escape Dave’s party tricks.
“All right,” Dave said. “I guess no one’s in the mood for this week’s staff meeting. Let’s all get back to work.”
Jesse watched his staff close their notebooks and portfolios as the meeting exploded in a wave of disrespect. He tried to maintain a modicum of control. “Leave your current reports for me. If I have any questions, I’ll contact you this afternoon.”
Jesse had inherited Team Catastrophe. Before that morning, he thought he’d made progress in bringing them together, overriding their individual loyalties to Jesse’s various predecessors, but it was an uphill battle. Between Dave’s constant meddling and overriding his authority and Kensie’s stirring up dissension, gaining control always felt slightly out of reach.
The room had cleared except for Daphne, who sat there looking bewildered, and Dave, who paced like a rabid animal.
“Jesse, Daphne was supposed to help you bring this team together,” Dave said. “They look worse than ever. Willard is doing just as he always does: whatever he pleases. You’re going to end up exactly where your three predecessors did unless you find a way to make that group work together as a team. When I hired you, you said that you had management skills, but I’m not seeing them.”
The Scent of Rain Page 10
