The Scent of Rain (5 page)

The cabdriver got out of the car, and she wondered if she'd made a mistake. She had come to Dayton because she had nowhere else to go, and a new environment sounded better than the pitying glances of friends and family. Healing would not come easily, but perhaps that's why she'd been brought to this fair, flat city. At least that's what Sophie claimed, and since Daphne had no better explanation for why her life had taken this turn, she went with her best friend's logic.

The taxi driver stood on the curb holding her two small polka-dot suitcases. She opened the door, handed him a wad of cash, and tried again to smell.

“Crazy!” The driver rolled his eyes and scurried back into the car away from her. Men seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

This is it. Your new life
. Daphne wasn't ready to see her new house. She'd gone straight to the office from the airport, lugging two suitcases, an archery bow, and other less visible but more significant baggage with her. Meeting Dayton without her sense of smell to guide her was like being the walking blind.

She stared up at the building, which loomed over the city in its importance and made her feel even smaller. She pushed through the door, pulling her suitcases in one at a time. The interior boasted shiny granite walls in eighties colors of peach and green. Her heart sank. Somehow the building had looked more modern when she'd come with Mark for their interviews. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of him, and she silently hoped that he'd be here already and rush to tell her what a huge mistake he'd made. She closed her eyes and imagined all the smells she was missing: the rubber of industrial carpet, the formaldehyde on the modern birch chairs, the benzene from the rubber plants.

People bustled around her, and she stood watching as if invisible.
This is home now
. She read the directory on the wall and reminded herself that Gibraltar was on the sixth and seventh floors. She stepped onto the elevator.

At the third floor the door opened for a man in a gray pinstriped suit with
lawyer
written all over him. “You going on vacation?” he asked. “If so, you're headed in the wrong direction. The exit is down. Wish I could go with you.”

She shook her head. “Just arriving. Came straight from the airport. I'm starting a new job today.” Her enthusiastic over-sharing didn't seem to spark any sort of interest in her fellow rider, and she retreated into silence. Like an overzealous bloodhound, she kept sniffing in each new space, hopeful. She got out on the sixth floor.

Gibraltar's offices were nothing special, like the offices of Givaudan, but then, Ohio wasn't France. Then again, without a sense of smell, she wasn't the woman they'd hired either. She looked about for any sign of humanity, but saw no one.

“God help me,” she whispered.

“Well, you must be Daphne!”

She startled at the sound of her name and turned to see a middle-aged woman with a dirty-blond bob and warm blue eyes. The woman wore a frumpy polyester suit and sensible shoes, but she carried herself with a natural elegance that would have helped her pull off a visit to Chanel in any outfit.

“I feel as if I know you already. I'm Anne Robles.” The woman enveloped her in a hug. “I talked with you on the phone, do you remember? My husband was off preaching out of town the day they conducted interviews, and I'd gone with him. It's so lovely to finally meet you in person.” Anne pulled away and stared at her. “Aren't you the prettiest thing?”

“Oh yes, Anne, such a pleasure.” Somehow over the phone she had imagined that Anne smelled like simple pleasures: Dove soap and honeyed hand crème. After meeting her, she'd be willing to bet on it.

“I knew you'd be pretty. I just didn't imagine you'd be
this
pretty,” Anne said. “My, you are a stunner. Wait until the lab gets a load of you. That should pull them out of their own little world.” Anne laughed to herself. “Or maybe not. The lure of obsessive projects to you scientists will never cease to amaze me. Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thanks, I don't drink coffee very often. Strong tastes interfere with my palate.”

“Ah, of course.”

Daphne tugged at her jacket sleeve. “I must be a sight after the plane ride. Is there a place I could freshen up?”

The truth was, Anne's warmth made Daphne want to cry. Her own mother hadn't offered her a hug after the failed wedding; this total stranger had given her more emotional support for simply showing up. It messed with her emotions somehow. Made her want to run and not look back.

“If this is you a sight, then I don't want to see what you look like in top form. Have some mercy on the rest of us. You pretty girls always make it look so easy.”

Daphne gave a nervous laugh and felt heat in her face. She could tell by the way Anne went on that she must know about the wedding. “You're too kind.” She longed to get the niceties behind her. “I'm so embarrassed that I've brought my suitcases with me, but I was anxious to see the lab again.”

“What's that in the bag over your shoulder?” Anne asked. “Something I could take to the lab for you?”

Daphne shifted the canvas bag. “It's my bow. An archery bow. When I can't think clearly, I go to the archery range. It helps me think.”

“Ah, isn't that clever?”

Daphne had thought she'd find more support for her archery habit in Ohio than she had in California. Perhaps not.

“Well, we've heard so much about you from Dave. He's gone on so about your credentials that we almost believe you've got magical powers.”

Daphne swallowed hard and felt her mortality. “I'm not sure I can live up to that kind of talk.” Or any talk, come to that. She looked around the office again, at the bank of cubicles that housed her coworkers. “Will any other new employees be starting today? Or soon?” she asked cryptically.

Anne stared at her as if she had three noses. “I don't think so. We're a small company. You're the first laboratory hire in a long while. I'll take your bags and put them in the storage room if you don't need anything in them.”

She bustled through the office, past the glass bank of walls toward the cubicles, then suddenly stopped and dropped the luggage at her feet near the front desk while she focused intently on Daphne. “I'm so excited for you to meet everyone. We need some new blood in this office.”

Daphne stayed quiet, feeling the weight of expectations. If everyone believed she possessed the power to turn Gibraltar around with a single Superman-like leap, they were in for disappointment.

“Is Mark going to be here?” she blurted, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

“Mark?”

“Mark Goodsmith. He was hired the same day I was— for the sales department—and I hadn't really heard if . . . you know . . . if he'd be starting the same day as me.” She didn't mention that she was nearly two weeks early, sans honeymoon.

Anne's mouth moved into a round O position. “You mean— I'll let your boss discuss that with you. Legally, I can't comment on employees.”

The atmosphere suddenly had grown chilly.

“I just want to know if he'll be here. You don't have to tell me anything more than that.”

Anne stopped in the wide hallway before they entered the cubicle section behind the glass walls. She lowered her voice. “Your former fiancé—that's Mark?”

Daphne nodded.

Anne pulled her into the nearby ladies' room and waited for the door to close behind them. “They rescinded his offer. He lied on his résumé, so he won't be here.” Anne took Daphne's hand in hers. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no,” Daphne said lightly. “That's fine. I just wanted to know, that's all. I wanted to know what I should expect.”

“Of course you did.”

One of the bathroom stalls opened, and a tall, lanky brunette with flowing dark hair and an outfit straight out of
Vogue
emerged. An unfriendly smile overtook the gorgeous face, and the woman exchanged a look with Anne that Daphne didn't like. She washed her hands and exited without saying a word.

“That's Kensie. She's in marketing, and you'll meet her soon enough. The restroom didn't seem like the place for a proper introduction. But if I were you, I wouldn't mention Mark to her.”

At the sound of Mark's name, Daphne plunged lower emotionally. “He's not coming . . .” Her voice trailed off as reality sank in. Mark was gone. The man she thought she'd spend the rest of her life with . . . She might never see him again.

Anne put her arm around Daphne. “I promise you, the best is yet to come.”

Out in the hallway once again, they walked to the front desk. Anne rolled the luggage toward a door behind the desk, opened it, and the luggage disappeared from view. “Let me get you to Jesse. He'll be anxious to meet you. And if you want a shoulder to cry on, you come to me. All right?”

Daphne nodded. “Who is Jesse?”

“Your boss.”

“I thought Dave—”

“You were Dave's idea, but you're Jesse's formulator. He was at a conference when you were here before. Wait until you meet him.”

Yes
, she thought.
Just wait until he meets this magical nose who can't smell a thing
.

She sucked in a deep breath as she followed Anne. If she had known Mark wouldn't be in Dayton, would she have come? Maybe this had only been her pathetic attempt to get him back. She wanted answers; knowing Dayton held none, she was ready to retreat. She wasn't as ready for healing as she'd thought.

Anne turned briskly, and Daphne practically ran into the older woman.

“Sure you wouldn't like something to drink?” she asked. “Some water maybe?”

“No!” Daphne lowered her voice. “I'm sorry. No, thank you. I'm a little nervous.”

“About Jesse?” Anne grabbed her wrist. “You really are nervous, aren't you?” She motioned toward a chair in the office's lobby. “Why don't you have a seat and let me know when you're ready. He's got plenty to do.”

“That will only give me more time to worry. Let's get it over with.” She prayed her sense of smell would miraculously be back before she met the man.

“As I mentioned, my husband is a pastor,” Anne said out of the blue. “I know you're not likely thinking of dating yet, but we have an excellent singles' group. I'm sure you'd enjoy it.”

Daphne gasped slightly. “Sounds lovely,” she lied.

Anne led her to an office door with its shutters to the hallway closed and its inhabitant a mystery. Daphne read the nameplate on the wall.
Jesse Lightner
. He sounded innocuous enough, but with the way Daphne's life had been going, she knew better than to make rash judgments.

Anne tapped on the door. “We have an open door policy here at Gibraltar. Even a closed door isn't off limits if you knock first.”

“Wonderful,” Daphne said, trying to catch a glimpse of Jesse when Anne opened the door. She only heard his deep voice.

“She's not here already?” he said, before he noticed her presence. “Ah, you are here.” A tall man approached them with long, assured steps. He made a quick assessment of her, but she couldn't tell what conclusion he came to.

His dark hair was cut close to his head, almost in military style, and his sharply cut features emitted an air of intensity that felt almost criminal. She shuddered unwittingly as he approached, but her eyes were glued to his form. His tailored suit did nothing to diminish the rough-hewn masculinity beneath. Her eyes fell to a tattooed wedding ring on his left ring finger.

Anne waved her in. “Daphne, meet your brand manager. This is Jesse Lightner. Jesse, this is Daphne Sweeten, the famous nose of Gibraltar.”

For a fleeting moment she smelled the essence of baby powder, and she filled with excitement that her nightmare had ended. “You're a father!” she said too enthusiastically, as if no one on earth had ever parented before him.

“I am,” he said. “How did you know?” He narrowed his eyes and looked at her warily, as if he'd encountered the paranormal.

Daphne longed to grab her bow and find the nearest archery range.

“I—uh—I thought I smelled baby powder,” she explained. A frame on Jesse's desk faced away from her, and without thinking, she turned it toward her and saw the future she'd lost. An infant was curled up in Jesse's arms and a gorgeous blond woman stood next to them, looking at the two as if they were pure magic. The sight of the happy family made her stomach churn. If Daphne were blond, would she be more attractive? Better able to keep a man? She struggled to regain composure. “Your family is beautiful.”

Love does not envy
, she told herself.

She searched for words that would take that judgmental skepticism off Jesse's face.

“Your wife looks like she'd wear Gucci's Envy. Have you ever smelled it? Peonies, jasmine, pomegranate, and teak. It sounds like it would be really heavy, but it isn't. The combination totally works.”

He stared at her darkly, and she scrambled to explain herself. Something about his intensity stripped her of composure.