Page 3 of Perfume Girl
Kneeling on the carpet, I tipped my bag and spilled the contents, searching for the precious object.
“It’s gone,” I said, my voice cracking.
“You forgot something?”
“I double checked before I left.”
She got up and rounded her desk. “They’re waiting.”
“It doesn’t make any sense.” I mentally replayed every step I had taken this morning. “I…don’t know what happened.”
“Wanna reschedule?”
She was right, of course. You didn’t keep an executive like Anna Rosenthal waiting. Her status was far-reaching. She was to perfume what Coco Chanel was to fashion. A legend in her own right—and I’d been moments away from meeting her. Ayesfrom her would have breathed new life into my career.
Vaguely, I realized the receptionist had walked back behind her desk.
Her gaze met mine above her computer screen. “Three weeks okay?”
“It will be too late.”
This was my last chance to save my life’s work.
“I’ll let them know you’re cancelling.”
Stunned, I returned the items to my bag and pushed unsteadily to my feet.This is my walk of shame, I thought, making my way back along the hallway decorated with colorful photos of my competitors’ products—scents welcomed in the highest echelons of Dazzle and Bazaar.
I took the elevator down.
With my heart racing I headed out to the parking lot. Desperation had me searching every inch of my car for the finely cut glass bottle that held my future.
Finally I gave up and slumped in exasperation in the driver’s seat. Taking a moment, I sat there gripping the steering wheel unable to drive.
I blew it.
Solemnly, and half in a daze, I drove those terrible hours back to Dunedin. Not even the journey over the bridge with its sweeping ocean views on either side could soothe the ache of failure.
You left it on the countertop,I said reassuringly to myself as I parked my car outside the store. I managed to get the key in the door’s lock at last, my hands shaking in anticipation.
Once inside, I scanned the countertops for my bottle, inhaling the heavenly aromas that melded together from a generous collection of both vintage bottles and modern pieces meant for the younger crowd and their flair for fun.
The same fun I had given up to make this place a reality. I couldn’t fathom losing my beloved store. Couldn’t understand how my usual pedantic methods had fallen short. I was a chemist, for goodness sake. Nothing I did was spontaneous or without conscious effort.
Usually, I would be pleasantly distracted by the sunlight flooding in through the front bay window, reflecting off the rows of perfume samples and throwing colorful rainbow patterns around the room—but not now.
Now I was frantic.
The bottle wasn’t here.
I couldn’t understand how it had slipped away from me. I had left the store at ten this morning after placing the bottle in my handbag. After locking up, I had raced off to fight the traffic so I could make good time for my meeting with Anna.
Where the hell was it?
I hurried down the hallway and shoved open the door to the workroom, ready to scour the countertops. I stopped short when I saw my set of scales on the floor, smashed to pieces. Where my iMac had once sat was a fine square of dust.
Breathe.
Heart racing, I glanced toward the stairs that led to my private space, listening for any noise that might hint the thief was still here. The alarm had failed…though I remembered setting it right before I left.
