Sophie crossed her arms. “That’s nice. Are you going to take it, Daph?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Jesse inspires me. I think we’ll work well together.”
Sophie stared at him skeptically. “If you say so.”
“Do you want her to take the job, Sophie?”
“Does it matter to you?” she asked.
“It does,” he said. He didn’t want to be put out in the same rubbish bin as Mark.
“Maybe Daphne should come home. Where those of us who love her can take care of her.”
“No one could take better care of her than Anne and Roger. They’re incredible people.”
“They are,” Sophie agreed. “But when she goes home to her own house, I worry it will be too quiet for her.”
“What does Daphne want?”
The subject of their conversation seemed lost in her own thoughts, as if she’d missed the whole thing. He found that strange, because not a lot escaped Daphne’s attention.
“Huh?”
“Do you want to stay in Dayton until Christmas? Keep our deal?”
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said. “How could you fire her yesterday if you already had a ‘deal’?”
“I’m not feeling good again,” Daphne said. “Would you excuse me?”
She walked into the house, leaving Jesse and Sophie standing face-to-face in silent mortal combat.
“She’s too sensitive for the world,” Sophie said. “I worry about her.”
That was exactly the reason he wanted Daphne to go. He couldn’t be responsible for her. He had too much on his plate already. Not that Dave would ever understand that. He never took the responsibility for a thing unless it was accolades that involved the press or attention.
It’s for Ben, he reminded himself.
“I’ll take care of her,” he blurted.
Sophie laughed. “Like her fiancé took care of her?”
“I’m nothing like him. Daphne lied to me and I overreacted, that’s all.”
“You made a deal with Daphne that you reneged on, and now you’re telling me you’ll take care of her? Mark said the same thing before he took her job in Paris. Do you want her to wait around for the other shoe to drop?” Sophie crossed her arms in front of her. “Daphne can take care of herself. She’s made do with makeshift family her whole life.”
“She doesn’t have to do that here. I overreacted, but I don’t intend to do that again. She has an ability that’s valuable to Gibraltar.”
He hated that he was defending himself and Sophie was defending Daphne. It should never have come to that. Why hadn’t he just said he was so mad at her that night because he’d almost lost her too? The first woman who’d broken through his armor since Hannah. Why hadn’t he told the truth?
Sophie’s arms were crossed in front of her. “Daphne’s very loyal. To a fault, I’d say. And I wondered what kind of man wrestled a promise to stay out of her so quickly.”
“We made a deal, that’s all.” He looked away from Sophie’s prying eyes.
“But the deal was off when she made a mistake?”
“Sophie, there are so many reasons I want Daphne to get out of here, but none of them has to do with me. I want her to stay, and I wanted that when I first laid eyes on her, which scared me. Six months seemed like a fair time frame for both of us.”
Sophie nodded, and as if his hour was over, she disappeared into the house.
Jesse stood alone on the front porch wondering how it was that his life had been turned upside down by a nose.
On June 27 Daphne was officially starting work at Gibraltar for the second time that month. She’d prayed for her sense of smell to return in that time, but as of that morning, her black tea still went down like warm, flavorless rust-colored water.
“Not tasting is getting old.”
“Quit complaining,” Sophie said. “You’re getting a free pass on dieting. I’m jealous. I mean, if broccoli tastes like chocolate cake, there’s no temptation to eat the real thing. By the way, Anne and Roger are bringing a group here tonight to pray over you.”
“Do they know why they’re praying?”
“They probably think you’re depressed since being dumped.”
“I am depressed since being dumped. As far as I know, boils have not yet appeared all over Mark’s face, and Arnaud hasn’t said a thing about Volatility! You’re sure you sent it to him, right?”
“I’ll bet you anything Mark claimed it as his own, and he’s trying to recreate it.”
“He’ll never figure out the top note. It’s something I made myself.”
“So that’s a good thing. Focus on that instead of the taste thing. There’s still color and texture to enjoy.”
“Trust me, broccoli is not chocolate cake. Still, it would have been helpful if I’d lost it before the wedding. Do you know how hard I worked to fit into that gown?”
“It was worth it. You looked like a million dollars, and I put your pics all over my Facebook page so that Mark can eat his heart out.”
“Don’t kid yourself; Mark hasn’t been stalking your Facebook wall. He replaced me a long time ago.” A loud bang resounded from the roof. “I’m so tired of all this work. I mean, don’t get me wrong. The men from church have been fabulous, but I’m ready to have my house back.”
“At least we’re here and not in Anne’s back room. God love her, she and her husband talk a lot. I thought you might explode over there.”
“I almost did, which makes me feel like the worst person on earth. They would do anything for anyone. Surely I should be able to put up with some conversation from two people who are housing me, feeding me, and helping me get this house in shape.”
“I’m just glad you found a church home so quickly. That has to help, having some fellowship to look forward to.”
“All those potlucks, and I’ve still lost eight pounds.”
“Don’t rub it in,” Sophie said. “All I want to do in this heat is eat.”
“I’ll get air-conditioning eventually.”
“I think you’ll get everything eventually. This place is going to be good for you. I can feel it.” Sophie smirked. “Though you’re going to be watching babies until eternity as payback.”
“It’s a win-win. I love the church nursery, and I love seeing all these people give up their time for me! Their spirit reminds me not everyone is like Mark. I’d rather be an eternal optimist and get burned again than forget there are people like this in the world.”
Sophie hugged her. “I’m proud of you, Daph. My baby girl is all grown up. She doesn’t need me anymore.”
“What would I have done without you? Look at this place!” She allowed her eyes to rest on the new, pale yellow walls and thought how beautiful the hardwood floors would look when they were refinished. Luckily, she had very few pieces of furniture to move. “You’re a good painter. If the psychology thing doesn’t work out, you’ll always have that.”
Daphne hadn’t painted for fear her nose would get worse, if that were possible. From an outsider’s perspective, she was sure she looked lazy. Sophie and the men of the church had done all the hard labor, and Daphne almost felt like she’d explode with gratitude.
“You’d be there for me,” Sophie said. “But if I were you, I think I’d rather have the help of that hottie Brad. He seems very interested in hanging around more than necessary. I’m not sure I’d have the strength to ask him to leave.” She laughed. “If he doesn’t rekindle your interest in Anne’s church, I don’t know what would.”
“They’re all wonderful. But Jesse hasn’t shown. Did you notice?”
Sophie nodded. “But I saw the way he looked at you on Anne’s front porch. Something tells me that his staying away is harder on him than on you.”
“Now who’s the eternal optimist?”
“You were pretty close to Arnaud and his family,” Sophie said. “I thought that’s how it might be with Jesse.”
“I’ll never understand how Mark wins ti
me and time again. How could Arnaud believe I could come and work side by side with Mark after what he did?”
“Well, aren’t the French known for their liberal thinking? If anything, he probably thinks you’re a baby for staying away.” Sophie rubbed a dust cloth over the windowsills.
“Mark just has that magic in him that keeps people from seeing past whatever he says.”
“That makes him sound like the Antichrist.”
“Well, if the pitchfork fits . . .” Daphne checked her reflection in the mirror.
Sophie’s eyes widened. “Speaking of Jesse, I’ve heard his praises sung a lot this week.”
“Don’t even go there. I made him a deal, and now I just worry that I’m going to need him a lot more than he needs me. I look forward to being inspired again. He knows I can’t smell, and yet he still sees the possibilities.”
“Keep steaming when you get home each night and don’t neglect your prayer time. Nothing is going to clear your stress away like prayer.” Sophie sat down next to her. “And when Anne’s group comes to pray for you? Keep an eye on Brad. Those eyes are sure to do something for your health.” She handed her the mug from the side table. “Finish your tea.”
“Maybe he’s going to do it when I get there in person.”
“Do what?”
“Fire me again. Legally, he probably has to do it in person.”
“And maybe the cows in the field are going to fly home and paint the rest of your walls blood red. Could you worry about something that has a basis in reality?”
“Such as?”
“Such as why your friend and mentor, Arnaud, won’t return your calls.” Sophie put the tea cup down. “I’m still worried about Mark being in Paris with your fragrance. He stands to make a lot of money on that if you don’t claim it, Daphne. You know you have a hit there.”
“I do, but I plan to patent it here with packaging. I’m telling you, he won’t get the last ingredient. It makes all the difference.”
“But if he patents it with Givaudan’s packaging, you’re done for. At least make a claim about it being yours, will you? If Arnaud had come to your wedding, he’d already know it was your fragrance, and I wouldn’t worry—but as it is, I worry that I sent the fragrance right into Mark’s hand. He played me like a fiddle.”
Daphne couldn’t worry any more than she already had. At some point, she had to rest in the fact that God was in control.
Between the repairs and her hospital visit, she was in debt for nearly ten grand, not counting her mortgage. Leaving Dayton was financially impossible. She felt justified, though. Like Cortez burning the ships.
“By the way, Mr. Riley brought more casseroles over,” Sophie told her. “He was here bright and early this morning. I think his wife is determined to fill that fridge for you.”
“More? What does Mrs. Riley think I eat?”
“Daph—one more thing. Gary got me a flight home for tomorrow morning,” Sophie said.
The words Daphne least wanted to hear, though she had to admit Dayton had welcomed her with open arms. Anne and her husband, Roger, had made her feel more at home than her own parents ever had. She had more help at the house than she knew what to do with—including a lot of single men.
Still, the prick of tears stung behind her nose at the thought of being without Sophie. “Who is going to diagnose Mark every day and make me feel better?”
“I’ll send you a DSM-V of your very own. You can be a private pseudo-psychologist in your own home.” Sophie smiled. “Which, by the way, isn’t half bad. You made some nice finds at the secondhand stores, and your church filled in the rest.”
“My church,” Daphne said out loud. “I guess this is where I am for now.”
“Paris isn’t big enough for you and Mark. Until you find out how he got that job, you just need to heal without him anywhere near you.”
Daphne nodded.
“You’ve got that far-off look again. Stop it, Daphne. You don’t miss Mark. You only miss the idea of him. Remember that.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“As soon as I’m out of here, you’ll have more time to get your new life going. And don’t forget to work on that packaging for Volatility! It’s too good not to sell, Daph, but you’ve got to do your part and protect it. But first, protect yourself.”
“I thought that was your job. If you want to be near Daphne Sweeten, you must pass muster with Dr. Sophie. She will run a short battery of mental health tests at Stanford, and we’ll be able to go forward from there.”
“I think you’re going to like living alone. And everyone is so friendly. I think I’ve met more of your neighbors here this week than I’ve met in five years of living in Palo Alto.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Mr. Riley’s already been here this morning. Who could that be?”
Daphne opened the door to a young man in a hoodie and jeans. “Daphne Sweeten?”
“Yes.”
“Have a nice day.” He handed her a thick envelope and hopped off the stoop to a waiting car.
She stared at the official seal. Was it really necessary that her father had the lawsuit arrive in that fashion? Unless he was suing her too. She ripped open the envelope.
“It’s Daddy’s lawyer.” Her parents didn’t have time to check on her well-being, but they had time to start the lawsuit process and make sure Mark paid in full for their humiliation. Which in her father’s language meant loss of money. That’s where you hurt a man. She ripped open the contents.
SUPERIOR COURT OF THE STATE OF OHIO
COUNTY OF MONTGOMERY
PLAINTIFFS: GEORGE SWEETEN
And
DAPHNE SWEETEN
V.
DEFENDANT: MARK GOODSMITH
On May 14, 2011, GEORGE SWEETEN entered into an
agreement in good faith with his former future son-in-law
(MARK GOODSMITH) . . .
Yada, yada, yada. “At least he’s not suing me. But good luck getting a penny or a rock out of Mark. He’ll just slither into Switzerland with a secret bank account.”
She continued reading. Daddy alleged fraud and wanted his twenty thousand dollars returned, along with another five grand for emotional suffering and lawyers’ fees. Who suffered? She supposed it didn’t count that her distress included nearly being asphyxiated. Her father had selective awareness skills. But then, emotions didn’t count in the game of money.
She tossed the official letter on the unfinished wood floors. “He bought the wrong house. Can you stand it? How did I ever buy that this was a God-fearing man?”
“Delusion is a powerful drug,” Sophie said. “I’m adding delusional to my diagnosis of narcissistic personality disorder, along with passive-aggressive and avoidant patterns.”
“Mark’s got a lot of letters behind his name. Think he can fit it all on stationery?”
“I’m serious, Daphne. Get healthy. Listen to your body and stop second-guessing yourself. I think you knew the truth all along.”
Everything she had, her talents, her relationships, her family life in San Francisco, had been stripped away while her debts and connections to Dayton grew. Even if she wanted to go back to Europe, her chances of doing so dwindled by the moment.
She had a home now.
She had a car payment now.
She had a Visa bill with extensive repairs and medical bills.
As she went out onto the cement porch, a light summer rain began to sprinkle on the driveway. “Sophie, look! It’s raining.” She breathed in deep. “It’s a sign. The scent of rain.” She raised her arms and let the small droplets of water hit her. “I think it smells better here than it did in Paris!”
“You can smell?”
“No, but I’m imagining it. And it’s better. Everything is fresh and renewed. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Sophie nodded. “You’re right.”
Daphne stepped back inside and tightened the belt around her new forties-style khaki skirt with its
oversized buttons and slid into her oxford pumps. She felt classically stylish—like a sexy professor—and she was glad she’d taken the time to dress well that morning. She needed the confidence boost.
In her new outfit, all traces of the former Daphne Sweeten had been washed away, like a summer rain cleansing the pavement.
Chapter 17
Daphne entered Gibraltar with a confident stride, ready to make the most of their sports detergent and live up to Jesse’s expectations.
Anne was already behind her desk when Daphne arrived. “Daphne, how’s the new place?”
“Oh, Anne, it’s perfect. I can’t wait to have you and Roger over for dinner, and I won’t even have to cook. Mrs. Riley down the street is pelting me with casseroles.”
“Good, you need to gain some weight.”
Daphne couldn’t say that without her sense of smell and taste buds, the casseroles were only a mushy, unnatural texture, and she hadn’t found herself hungry. She saw Jesse walk into his office. He stole a glance at her and promptly turned away. “Jesse’s here early.”
“He’s always here early.” Anne stared up at her over the rims of her glasses. “Why don’t you go see him first? I know he’s been waiting for you.”
Daphne walked down the lengthy hallway to his office and rapped on the open door. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. I trust you’re feeling better.”
“I am feeling better, and it was good to have the time to move in properly. I’m sorry I didn’t plan that too well. I guess I was just too anxious to get out of San Francisco.”
“That’s what I do for a living. I streamline processes—and yours looked like it could use some tweaking.” She smiled, and he started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“I streamline processes. Gosh, I sound so full of garbage. I think I’ve been here too long. Shut the door.”
She did, and then focused on his desk. “Your desk is so clean. That’s a sign of mental illness.”
“Who says that?”
“Sophie. But she says a lot of things, and sometimes I think she overanalyzes. Maybe you’re just neat.”
“Let’s go with that.”
The Scent of Rain Page 18
