Be My Valentine: The McClendon Holiday Series, Book 3

by Sean D. Young

  The bottom line was that he missed his craft—experimenting and researching all that pertained to making the perfect fragrance. He had a reason to get up in the morning and he loved living instead of just existing. All of that was fading away and he felt that he’d lost his purpose.

  Purpose was so very important to Jacques because not many people knew and understood what they were created to do. Since the age of thirteen he’d known.

  He could hear his sister in the other room, rumbling around. He looked over at the clock on the mantle and saw that it was well after seven o’clock. She should have left for work already. He hoped that she wasn’t under the weather, so he thought he’d better check on her.

  Pulling his terrycloth robe closer to his body and tying the robe tighter, Jacques walked down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Cee Cee,” he called out to her as he walked through the apartment toward the light.

  “Cee Cee, girl, are you still here?” he said, before spotting her standing at the kitchen sink.

  Jacques walked over to her. “What’s the matter, baby girl?”

  “Nothing much. How did you sleep last night?”

  “I slept okay,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Jacques asked her again.

  “Yes, Jacques. Why do you keep asking me that?”

  Jacques glanced at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be gone to the office already?”

  “I rearranged my schedule,” Cecelia responded as she ran water into the silver teakettle. “Now, what can I get you for breakfast?”

  Jacques walked over to the round kitchen table in the corner and took a seat. “Cee Cee, I don’t want you to change your day to babysit me.”

  Cecelia placed the kettle on the stove and turned on the heat before sitting down at the table across from Jacques. “What are you going to do today?”

  Jacques hunched his shoulders.

  “What kind of answer is this?” Cecelia asked, mimicking the gesture he’d just made.

  “I don’t know,” Jacques relaxed his shoulders. “I think I’m getting depressed, Cee Cee and that’s not good.”

  “Jacques, you’ve only been here a week. A person like you can’t sit idle, you have to be doing something,” his sister responded.

  Pushing his chair back, Jacques leaned on his thighs. “I just don’t see how folks sit around the house all day. Sitting in a chair with the remote control in my hand, changing the channel every hour is not my favorite past time. I think the ‘Young and Restless’ is cool, I actually record the show, but sitting every day, it’s not me. I would lose my mind with nothing to do.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re on the edge now,” Cecelia said, then giggled. She reached across the table. “This is Chicago. You know there is plenty to do.”

  The whistle from the kettle caught both of their attention. Cecelia got up and pulled two mugs from the cabinet. “So, what have you been doing every day?”

  “I told you. I’ve been watching the soap operas and trying to read, but neither has been holding my attention.”

  “You’re probably wondering about what’s happening at Fairchild.”

  “Yes, but let me clarify something. The only reason I’m thinking of them is so that I can clear my name. I could care less what they’re doing to create a new fragrance, scent note or anything else in the lab.”

  “Jacques, you’ve got to be patient,” his sister said, pouring the piping hot water into the ceramic cup.

  “I’ve been working since I was seventeen years old, Cee Cee. I don’t know what it’s like to not have a job.”

  “Well, you know what they say, ‘necessity is the mother of invention’,” Cecilia said, placing the tea bag into the cup.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that I needed a break. And I haven’t heard anything from my attorney or the private investigator that he recommended.”

  Walking back over to the table, Cecelia sat down. “Okay, what is going on in the perfume world around Chicago? I know there is something that you can get into while you’re here.”

  “Well, the World Perfumer Congress is coming up over at McCormick place.”

  “Have you registered?”

  “No,” Jacques answered.

  “Why not, Jacques? Come on. That sounds like it’s right up your alley.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea for me to attend, Cee Cee.”

  “What do you have to lose?”

  “I don’t have a place to work.”

  “So what. You never know what might happen. Fairchild isn’t the only game in town. Use it as a networking opportunity.”

  “I thought about that, but I feel a bit uneasy.”

  Cecelia turned the spoon around in her mug. “I know you said that you’re not worried about this investigation, but you’re acting like you’re scared.”

  Jacques turned his head away from her. He never wanted her to see him in this state, but he couldn’t help it. Not once had he ever been accused by insinuation or otherwise of theft. He motioned to open his mouth, but his sister didn’t allow him to utter a word.

  “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’m in your corner and always will be. Let me tell you something about my big brother. He is a man who has always faced adversity with courage and strength.”

  Jacques dropped his head as he listened to her speak about him.

  “I say let’s find my big brother Jacques and get on with our lives.”

  Jacques watched as Cecelia got up from the table and walked away, disappearing into the other room without another word. She returned quickly with a laptop and handed it to him. “Okay, go online and sign up for the conference. I believe this is going to change your life.”

  Jacques looked up at her and she gave him a wink, picked up her mug and left him alone in the kitchen.

  Chapter Three

  Walking onto the show floor in the exhibition hall in McCormick Place, Patrice tried not to feel intimidated by the miles upon miles of expositions. She pulled out her show guide and noticed that there were over twenty-seven thousand vendors and exhibitors in that one space. As she moved along the main show entrance there were many beautiful, innovative and unique display areas. There were flat screen televisions running a product infomercial and sophisticated signage along with owners or employees of the products standing nearby ready to be of assistance.

  Patrice knew that she was in the right place. Perfume brands from all over the globe used that conference to find distribution channels for companies to carry their products. That was just what she was looking for. She continued down the aisles and stopped at booths that held drawings and special activities just to engage the attendees. There were personal and home fragrance products like perfume, air diffusers, candles, scented oils, potpourri and solid fragrances. With so much information and freebies, Patrice wished she had asked her mother to come along with her. It would have been good to have another person with her to help in processing the information. But that’s why she brought her handy notebook and she was taking plenty of notes.

  With her bag now full of giveaways, she spotted a booth that sold fragrance and flavors chemicals. She’d heard of that particular manufacturer, but she hadn’t seen any of the products up close. Patrice smiled at the woman behind the table, stepped closer and picked up some of the products they had on display.

  She’d chosen a bottle that had Anisic alcohol in it. Looking closer, she realized that it was commonly used to flavor and fragrance foods, beverages, and certain cosmetic products.

  Entranced by so many bottles to sort through, Patrice hadn’t noticed the gentleman who approached the booth until his arm stretched across her.

  “Excuse me,” he said, reaching for a fancy gold container.

  Patrice glanced at him and did a double take. When thei
r eyes connected, they held briefly before he went back to what he was doing. But Patrice continued to stare at him, admiring his towering height while assessing his outfit.

  Maybe he could help me. He was dressed too formally, in his very eclectic attire, to be a guest for a trade show in her opinion. She concluded that maybe he was a vendor and was just taking a break. Patrice didn’t know if she would have put the green and yellow together in the winter, but the brotha pulled it off very well.

  The man had dark caramel-colored skin with a clean-shaven face. Continuing to watch him, Patrice was shocked at the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off him and interestingly enough, he wasn’t paying her any attention.

  Patrice wanted him to look in her direction once again, so that she could get a good look into his eyes. That flash of a glance wasn’t enough for her; she needed to get another look.

  After a few more seconds, and he still hadn’t said anything, she thought she’d strike up a conversation with him.

  “Are you familiar with this?” she asked, holding up a dainty container.

  “A little bit,” he answered quickly and then went back to inspecting the products.

  Patrice twisted her mouth to the side because she could clearly see that the man knew his way around the flavors and perfume bottles. The other items on display didn’t seem foreign.

  Maybe he doesn’t like talking to strangers. Patrice needed to say something quick. It might be her only chance to find out if he could assist her with her project before he got away.

  “I’m an aroma therapist, so I’m new to fragrances,” she said, trying to get his undivided attention, but was failing completely.

  The man finally looked her in the face. “So you’re an aroma therapist?”

  Man, it’s about time I get a look at those dreamy eyes. “Yes and I know the essential oils like the back of my hand, but would love to be able to do a fragrance.”

  “Is that right?”

  Patrice could tell he was becoming intrigued with the conversation. “Yes, I own an Aromatherapy and Day Spa.”

  The man put the bottle back and turned to her. “How do you like owning your own boutique?”

  “Let me tell you it’s a lot of work.”

  “I bet it is,” the man replied.

  “I’m a second generation owner, so I thought that adding fragrances would expand the business.”

  “I think it’s a great idea.”

  For the first time since she’d met him, he smiled at her and Patrice felt herself stepping closer to him. His eyes had drawn her in and then when he grinned, she was lost. So lost, in fact, he was talking to her and she hadn’t heard a word he’d said because she had drifted into a daydream.

  Clearing her throat she said, “You were saying?”

  “Why are you here today?”

  “I’m looking for a perfumer or a lead of some kind that would point me in the right direction. I wanted to get this new scent done in a hurry.”

  The man extended his hand. “Jacques Germain.”

  “Jacques,” Patrice repeated. “What kind of name is that? Are you French or something?”

  “Yes, my great-grand parents were from France.”

  “Wow,” Patrice said, grabbing his hand, shaking it vigorously. “Pleased to meet you, Jacques. My name is Patrice McClendon. I should have introduced myself before telling you my life story,” she said and then chuckled.

  Jacques smiled, showing her all his perfectly straight white teeth. “Nice to meet you, Patrice. Would you like to go and get a cup of coffee and talk more about your idea?” Jacques asked.

  Patrice checked her watch. “Sure, why not,” she said, adjusting her purse on one shoulder and the convention bag on the other.

  Reaching for the woven conference bag, he said, “Why don’t I carry that for a while? Give that shoulder a rest.”

  He’s fine and a gentleman. Alright, nah. “Sure, I’d appreciate that,” Patrice answered handing the bag to him.

  Jacques led her off the convention floor over to the escalator that would take them down to the lower level. They walked inside the Starbucks café and noticed that others had the same idea, taking a break from the exhibition.

  As they stood in line the crowd continued to grow, but by the time they ordered and received their drinks they were able to find a quaint little table over in a corner. He pulled out her chair for her and waited until she took the seat.

  Jacques placed her tote bag against the wall as soon as Patrice slid onto the vacant seat. She held her purse in her lap.

  “Thanks so much for the mid-day treat,” Patrice said, lifting the cup.

  “It’s my pleasure.” He glanced at the table. “You know what, I forgot to get napkins,” he said stepping away. “I’ll be right back.”

  Patrice was so excited about the potential information he may give to her that as soon as his back was turned, she pulled out her notebook and pen so that she could be ready with her questions when he returned. In the meantime, she started writing notes of things that had popped into her head so she wouldn’t forget them.

  As she sat waiting for Jacques to return she wondered if her goal to create the fragrance was too ambitious and really only a dream. She shook her head. No, I can do this. I know I can. Patrice remembered how her mother always told her and her siblings that they could do anything they put their minds to. It would take more than prayer to get it done, but it could be done. No matter the challenge, large or small.

  Looking up from her paper, she saw Jacques walking toward her with a big smile on his face. Patrice wondered if this was his personality, if he were just trying to flirt with her or if he wanted something himself. She had a good sense of character, so by the end of their meeting, she should have a better sense of who he was.

  Jacques took the empty seat across from her. “Patrice, have you always been in Chicago?”

  “Yes, all my life. What about yourself?”

  “I live in New York now, but I’m originally from Chicago. I’m just here visiting my sister.”

  Patrice studied his expression, wondering if the tall, handsome and articulate man was actually there to see his sister or was it somebody else’s sister. Then she immediately shifted her attention back to the business at hand.

  “So, you’re on vacation?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  She thought anxiously. Is it possible that this chance meeting is the answer for me? Could this man be the connection I’m looking for?

  “Cool,” Patrice said. Now without being too forward she needed to find a way to network with him. She didn’t want to come across as a sista looking for a hook up.

  “Why don’t you tell me a bit more about your project?” Jacques asked.

  “I would like to run a Valentine’s Day campaign, launching the new signature fragrance for Good Scents Aromatherapy and Day Spa.”

  “Making a fragrance is a huge job. You’re not talking about the product coming out this Valentine’s Day, are you?”

  Patrice nodded slowly.

  “It can sometimes take months and years to complete,” he cautioned her.

  “I realize the risk. But, let me just ask you,” she started before taking a deep breath and quickly releasing it. She flipped through the pages of her notebook and pushed it toward him. “Have you ever heard of any of these people?”

  Jacques looked down at the list. Patrice watched his reaction carefully and noticed the different expressions that showed on his face as he viewed the list.

  “Are you familiar with any of those names?” she asked.

  “Some,” he said, plainly.

  “Can you help me get in contact with the right people to get this done?”

  His silence made Patrice nervous. She met his intense stare then he looked away. She waited patiently until he turned his at
tention back to her. Biting down on his bottom lip, she could tell he was trying to find a way to let her down easy. She reminded herself that he was the first person she’d engaged in conversation. There was an entire showroom floor filled with people in the industry.

  “Let me think about what I can do to help you.”

  “O-kay,” Patrice said, dragging out the word as she reached into her purse. She retrieved a business card, pushing it toward Jacques, hoping that her face did not reveal her disappointment.

  Patrice stood and Jacques followed. She extended her hand to him and he clutched it firmly. “Jacques, I really enjoyed making your acquaintance.”

  “It was good meeting you as well, Patrice. I will let you know something as soon as possible,” he said, glancing at the card.

  They weaved their way through the other patrons and out into the hall, Patrice turned to him. “I think I’m going to look around some more. I hope to see you soon.”

  As she turned and walked away, Patrice whispered, “Lord, let this man help me.”

  * * * * *

  Jacques stopped at the coatroom to retrieve his things before walking to the parking garage to get into his rental car. He was glad he had the forethought to get one, because he didn’t want Cecilia to be inconvenienced, so having his own vehicle worked for them both.

  After turning on the ignition, he pressed the square button for the heat, feeling the burst of cool air full-blast in his face, as it gradually turned warm. Vigorously, he rubbed his hands together, with his breath kissing the air inside the vehicle. It was a cold, blustering January day in Chicago and he quickly pulled his gloves from his pocket and put them on. As he made his way out of the crowded garage to the freeway, he had one person on his mind: Patrice McClendon. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  There was something about the beautiful woman besides the fact that she had flawless skin, heart-shaped lips and a svelte body that attracted him. He could tell that she was very ambitious and determined. Jacques loved people with a drive to be successful, the fortitude to get things done and it seemed that Patrice had all those qualities.