Scent of Magic Page 2

  The empty building that would become the latest perfumery sat on Main Street at the end of the block. Conveniently located, it was within walking distance to the Duchesne’s house. It was also close to the church, too close in Juliette’s opinion. Sometimes, people from small towns, especially small towns in the Bible Belt, tended to get spooked when magical things started happening. Juliette hoped the people of Prosperity were at least somewhat open-minded because the unexplainable followed the women wherever they put down roots.

  “Please tell me you didn’t pay a lot of money for this dump,” Starley grumbled as she pushed her glasses up for the umpteenth time.

  “Give your big sis some credit, kiddo,” Francesca said. “The first month’s rent was free because I offered to provide my own elbow grease.”

  “Ahem, excuse me? Who’s elbow grease?” Starley said.

  Juliette propped the front door open to let in some fresh air. “Starley’s right. I think you should have demanded two months free. It might take us that long to get the place ready for business.”

  Francesca thought her sisters were too glass-half-empty about things. Sure, the place needed some tender loving care. Apparently, they didn’t all share the same rose-colored glasses. Where Juliette and Starley saw a front window layered with years of grime, she envisioned large block letters announcing The Perfumery to the whole world.

  Francesca refused to let Starley and Juliette rain on her parade and hummed to herself while scrubbing the grease coated interior with pine cleaner.

  Starley volunteered to clean the front window. Her reasons were two-fold. She could sit while she worked, and she could also people watch. People watching had become one of her favorite things to do. She liked making up stories about the strangers as they walked by.

  Since the store was the last business on the block, Starley giggled to herself as several curiosity seekers passed the window more than once, craning their necks to peek inside. Some of them were so bold as to stop to take a rock out of their shoe or scratch the back of their neck, gawking, for as long as they dared under her watchful eyes.

  Just before noon a man came right up to the window and cupped his hands on the glass to get a better look inside. He was tall, thin and dressed in paint-splattered coveralls. Starley knew he had to be the man Francesca had hired to paint the letters on the front window. She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him because he looked like he might be afraid of his own shadow and she decided that scaring him away before he painted the sign would royally piss off Francesca.

  “Frank, I think this guy’s looking for you,” Starley called out over her shoulder.

  Francesca spun around to see what Starley was talking about. She grinned when she recognized the man, and stuck her head out the door.

  “Simon, come on in. We don’t bite,” Francesca said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Juliette whispered.

  “Simon’s here to letter the front window for us,” Francesca said.

  Simon nodded at the women and gave Starley a pointed look, silently telling her she was in his space.

  Starley unfolded her legs and climbed from the window. She bowed and said, “It’s all yours Picasso.”

  Juliette bit her lip to keep from snickering and elbowed Starley after Francesca gave them a withering glare.

  “Okay then,” Starley said quietly. She walked behind the counter and opened the Styrofoam cooler. “On that note, I think I’ll just help myself to something to eat.”

  Francesca had packed a few bologna and mustard sandwiches and cans of soda for lunch. It was nearly noon, and they’d already been working for several hours. “That’s a good idea. Why don’t we go across the street to that little park?”

  Juliette’s eyes darted to Simon, who was busy setting up his painting supplies in the front window. Not that she didn’t trust him, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious in a strange town. “I’m not that hungry right now. You two go on without me.”

  “Starley and I’ll be right over there,” Francesca said nodding in the direction of the park, which was nothing more than a picnic table and a trash can. “Holler if you need us.”

  By the end of the day, the sisters had made a great deal of progress with the cleaning of the shop. Simon had painted a perfect sign that spanned the entire width, and nearly the total height of the front window. The lettering declared that the name of the business was “The Perfumery.” Not very original, but Francesca was superstitious, so wherever they went the name always remained the same.

  At dusk, the sisters linked arms and with a satisfied sigh, turned and headed toward home.

  PROSPERITY

  Prosperity, Arkansas was a small town way down in the southeastern tip of the state. A small dot on the map that time seemed to have forgotten after the new highway had been rerouted through larger cities. That their town had been lost in time didn’t seem to bother the residents of Prosperity. To the contrary, they liked their sleepy little town and went out of their way to keep it that way.

  The women referred to it as quaint, and the men likened it to a lazy day spent doing nothing while still earning a living. Everyone knew everyone, and any newcomers were either deemed an international spy or regarded highly suspicious until it was determined that they didn’t have ulterior motives for being in Prosperity and most likely weren’t a threat.

  Prosperity had one mom and pop grocery store. Droste’s prices were higher than supermarkets in bigger cities. One time, the citizens got wind of a chain grocery wanting to build in town, and everyone shut that idea down in a hurry.

  Outside companies might bring more crime and undesirables into town. Not to mention what it would do to traffic. In the end, the chain store decided on its own that the location for the new branch wouldn’t work, and no one spoke of it again.

  Of course, that annoyed the good people of Prosperity. Why wasn’t their town good enough for the grocery store? They took it as a personal insult. The population of Prosperity had pitched a fit about the possibility of an outside business moving in, but they wanted the decision to be on their terms, not the other way around.

  There was one church in town and every citizen of Prosperity belonged to that church. Everyone got married or buried there. Pastor Sullivan Byrd was worse than Santa Claus when it came to knowing who was naughty and who was nice, and you could bet if you missed Sunday service, he’d stop by your house later to find out just what disease you were suffering from that had kept you from attending church that morning.

  Pastor Byrd was thick. Thick around his middle. Thick hair, thick mustache, Coke-bottle-thick glasses, and more thick-headed than one man ought to be. No wonder his wife Donna was seen more often than heard. Donna always stood around wringing her hands and staring at her feet whenever Sullivan was near.

  The name Byrd suited them both. She was as nervous as a little sparrow, afraid she might land on the wrong branch, and he was a big bully vulture with eagle-eye vision, watching and waiting for some no account heathen to step out of line. Sullivan Byrd carried a lot of weight in the town of Prosperity. In more ways than one.

  Sullivan and Donna Byrd had one child. Seventeen-year-old Beau Byrd could do no wrong, and he was always right. Even when he was wrong. All the girls loved Beau Byrd and all the boys wanted to be like him. If you didn’t believe that, just ask Beau.

  Other than the solitary grocery store and church, there wasn’t much more to Prosperity. A greasy spoon diner, a bank, one gas station, a flower shop, a health clinic that was only open three days a week, a dentist office, and a veterinary. There was also a school. Three separate brick buildings housed all of the students from kindergarten through twelfth grade.

  Of all the places on the United States map for Francesca to stick her pin, Juliette and Starley had serious reservations as to whether or not she’d made a monumental boo-boo when she declared Prosperity their new home.

  OPPOSITES ATTRACT

  School began on the last Wednesday in August. Starley
wasn’t exactly thrilled to be going back to school for a number of reasons. Being able to see things that no one else could see made making friends awkward. Starley thought it had been easier getting to know someone when she hadn’t been able to see them as they truly were.

  The first day of school in a new town always sucked. No matter how many times she’d gone through it in the past, it never got any easier for her. She might be outspoken at home, sarcastic even, but when it came to meeting new people, Starley was painfully shy.

  Starley slid into an unoccupied desk in the back corner of the room for her first class. She kept her head down and only glanced up when the teacher entered. He was tall and thin and Starley did a double take when she saw horns growing from the top of his head. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times before the horns finally disappeared.

  “You see them too, don’t you,” a tiny voice asked.

  Starley froze for a second before turning to look at the girl who had spoken to her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied.

  “Stop it. Mr. Peterson is the devil incarnate, and you saw his horns just as clearly as I did. Don’t even bother trying to deny it,” the gap-toothed girl said.

  Starley’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, I saw. I just didn’t think anyone else did.”

  “Finally. Someone else can see things the way I can,” the girl said. She offered Starley a stick of gum. “I’m Rue. Rue Zimmer. And you are?”

  “Starley Duchesne,” Starley said, taking the gum.

  “Wait ‘til you meet his wife. She teaches English,” Rue said.

  Maybe things wouldn’t be so horrible after all, Starley thought. She sat up a little straighter in her seat and doodled pitchforks and batwings in the margins of her notebook.

  “I recognize most of you, but I do see a new face,” Mr. Peterson said. His beady black eyes bored into Starley, and she squirmed in her seat. He picked up a clipboard and skimmed through the names. “Starley. How do you pronounce your last name, Starley?”

  Starley felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Dew Shen.”

  “Ah. A French name, oui?”

  Starley couldn’t find her voice, so she merely nodded. Thankfully, his attention on her was short-lived, and he quickly went on to the day’s lessons.

  Just before the bell rang, Rue leaned into Starley’s space. “Let me see your schedule.”

  Starley pulled the folded paper from her pocket and handed it to Rue.

  “Sweet! We have practically all of the same classes,” Rue said. She refolded the paper and gave it back. “Something told me this was going to be a great year. You’ll get to see Mrs. P. next period.”

  After class, Rue tagged along as Starley went to her locker. They filed into the English classroom and Starley nearly swallowed her gum when she saw Mrs. Peterson. Someone had to be playing some sort of a joke on her.

  There in all of her white-feathered glory stood an angel. Wings, halo, the whole nine yards. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Starley muttered.

  “I know, right. What are the odds?” Rue giggled. “They say opposites attract.”

  Rue and Starley went their separate ways after English class but made plans to meet up in the cafeteria at lunchtime. Without Rue by her side, Starley shrank back into her usual shy self and kept her eyes on her feet as she went to her next class. That’s when she ran into him. Literally.

  “Hey! Stop trying to grope me,” the boy said.

  Starley’s face turned bright red for the umpteenth time that morning. “Sorry,” she murmured.

  He laughed and bumped his shoulder against hers. “It’s okay. I’m only playin’ with ya.”

  Before Starley could recover and think up a witty comeback, he was gone. She didn’t have any idea what his name was, but she was glad that he had at least appeared normal. Actually, he was better than normal; he just might have been the cutest boy she’d ever seen.

  Maybe Rue had been right about this being a good year.

  Starley saw him again during lunch period. He walked by the table where she sat with Rue.

  “Hey, Zimmer,” he said. “Introduce me to your friend.”

  Rue got that deer in the headlights look and shifted her attention from him to Starley and back to him. “Uh, this is Starley Duchesne. Starley, meet Beau Byrd. God’s gift to teenage girls everywhere.”

  Beau stuck out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Starley Duchesne.”

  Starley shook his hand. “You too.”

  He gave her a mega-watt grin and sauntered off.

  Rue gaped at Starley. “Not even one full day and you’ve already got the hottest boy in school hitting on you.”

  “Shut up. He was not hitting on me. He was just being polite,” Starley said quietly.

  “Oh huh-uh. Beau Byrd does not do polite without a good reason, my fair-haired friend. Beau Byrd doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive,” Rue said.

  “Well, at least he doesn’t have any horns,” Starley admitted as she stared after the blonde Adonis. “Or feathers.”

  “Maybe not, but trust me, I’m pretty sure I saw fangs,” Rue whispered.

  Starley laughed. “Fangs? You mean like a vampire or something?”

  “No. Fangs as in canines. Wolf in sheep’s clothing, that one,” Rue said. “You do not want to go there. Like father, like son.”

  Starley shrugged. She didn’t think she’d have to worry about going there. A boy like Beau Byrd couldn’t possibly be interested in me, she thought.

  IRRESISTIBLE CURIOSITY

  Everyone knew what curiosity did to the cat. Francesca didn’t have a mean bone in her body and about the only thing she would ever be capable of is killing someone with kindness. Running The Perfumery was perfect for her.

  The sisters had unanimously chosen the first day of school as the best day to open the doors for business. Agreeing that all the mothers would be bored with their kids back in school, and would be looking for something to do to pass the time.

  The day had a fall-like feel but was still warm enough to prop the doors open.

  The open doors would certainly help to draw the passing curiosity seekers inside once they got a whiff of Juliette’s secret concoction. She had dubbed it Irresistible Curiosity. Normally, Francesca was the one who developed various aromas, but Juliette’s perfumes were so effective in doing what they were meant to do, that Francesca never stood in her way.

  Irresistible Curiosity was the type of scent that made you stop what you were doing, tip back your head and sniff the air like a dog getting a whiff of a T-bone. No one could put their finger on what it smelled like exactly. Some said vanilla. Others detected a citrusy note. Still others demanded it smelled like melted chocolate tasted.

  Francesca had turned the ceiling fans on low. She then dipped a few cotton balls in the barely there aroma and placed them in strategic spots around the shop. Even Francesca with her nose for perfume was never quite sure what Juliette had used to create Irresistible Curiosity.

  Juliette had teased that it should be called Circus.

  “Why on earth would you want to call it that?” Francesca shook her head and laughed.

  Juliette said, “Because everyone loves the thrill of a circus, right?”

  That’s what she said. But what she really thought was something more along the lines of a sucker being born every minute. Of course, she kept that sentiment to herself.

  Francesca would not be amused.

  Soft music floated through the overhead speakers. The ceiling fans wobbled slowly to create a subtle breeze, sending the wonderful, intoxicating aroma gently around the room and out the front door.

  Juliette paced the floor with a feather duster in hand. She straightened the bottles and dusted away the invisible specs of dust to pass the time. Francesca stood behind the counter, glancing up from the crossword puzzle she was trying to complete.

  “Juliette, I wish you’d sit down. You’re making me nervous with all
your unnecessary cleaning,” Francesca said. She heaved a heavy sigh and walked to the front door, carrying a broom with her.

  “You’re one to talk to me about cleaning,” Juliette said, shaking her head. “It’s okay Frank; you can admit it. You’re just as nervous as I am.”

  “I am not nervous,” Francesca said. “I’m anxious. There’s a difference.”

  Juliette put down the feather duster and turned the ceiling fans up a notch. “If you say so.”

  Francesca decided against sweeping the sidewalk in front of the store and came back inside. “Okay. I admit. I’m nervous.” She chewed on the skin around her thumbnail and picked up the feather duster her sister had just put down.

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Juliette. “I bet the first person who walks through the front door will have red hair. A woman, of course. What do you think?”

  A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Francesca’s mouth. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Hmm. I agree with you that it will be a woman, but I’m sensing a brunette.”

  “Shall we make it an official bet?” Juliette asked.

  “You’re on. The loser has to fix the winner her favorite breakfast for a week,” Francesca said.

  Juliette scowled. “How is that fair? You know I don’t eat breakfast.”

  Francesca scowled. “Fine. You think of something. Not that it’ll matter since I’m going to win anyway.”

  The women high-fived one another — their way of “shaking” on the bet and stared out the front window.

  Two hours after they had unlocked the store and flipped the black and orange sign to open, a small, mouse-like woman appeared at the front door. She hesitated and before she could change her mind and scurry off, Juliette strode across the floor and took her by the elbow. Smiling smugly at Francesca, because she’d been right about the red hair, she steered the woman inside.