Scent of Triumph (26 page)

Danielle heard the annoyance in Clara’s voice and sensed she’d picked the wrong time to show Clara her creations. “It’s my new perfume,” she began quickly, springing from a chair. “I call it Chimère, which means—”

“Well, it’s lovely, I’m sure, but I don’t have time to look at anything today. The fashion show starts in less than an hour, and we have more than a hundred ladies and members of the press arriving. Even Lou Silverman, head of Silverman Studios, is coming to personally scout designs for the new Erica Evans film.”

“Exactly. That’s why I thought today would be a perfect time to introduce it. All your best customers will be here.” Danielle had stayed up all night preparing for this opportunity, filling crystal bottles and sewing golden brocade pouches by a dim light as her family slept.

“Danielle, we’ve discussed this. I told you I don’t sell perfume here at Clara’s. This is not open for discussion, especially today.”

“But Clara—”

Clara raised a finely arched brow. “I’m running very late, Danielle.” She kicked off her flat shoes. “Now where did I put my platform pumps? And where is Esmeralda?”

“But why not?”

Clara turned to rummage through an armoire behind her desk. “Why not what?”

Danielle paced the length of the office, her face burning. She needed this opportunity. “But why won’t you sell perfume here?”

Clara emerged from the armoire with the missing platform shoes and a pink and violet scarf. “Esmeralda,” she shrieked. “I need you!”

Danielle frowned.
Today is the perfect opportunity.
“I can set up in the foyer and demonstrate after the show,” she persisted.

Clara scowled at her. “Danielle, I’ve got my hands full here. I need to know if my models are ready, if the champagne is on ice, if the valet attendants and photographers are here. I haven’t time to discuss your perfume. Esmeralda!”

“Everything is ready, Clara, relax. Here, won’t you at least try it?” Danielle picked up a crystal bottle and spritzed the air with its gold-tasseled bulb atomizer.

Clara put her hands on her hips, her silver bracelets clinking sharply. “We might love perfume, Danielle, but American woman don’t understand it yet, they don’t pamper themselves the way French women do. They won’t buy it, they wait for their husbands or lovers to buy it for them. I tried it once; it didn’t sell. This isn’t Paris.”

Esmeralda appeared at the door. “You called?”

“Where in the world were you?” Clara huffed. “Oh, never mind, fix this hem. I stepped on it when I put my skirt on this morning.”

Danielle pressed on. “But if you can make a good profit—”

“Your perfume is not a known brand. Drop it, dear. I have work to do. And so do you,” she added with a piercing glare.

Disappointed, Danielle gathered her perfumes and withdrew from Clara’s office.
Today is the day, I just know it. But how can I convince Clara?
She chewed her lip, thought about fellow perfumer François Coty and his creative marketing decades ago. As she made her way down the sweeping staircase, her eyes fell on the marble foyer floor, and suddenly, she had a wild idea.

She thought of the red leather traveling case that Max had knocked from the dresser in their stateroom, before everything went down with the ship.
How the fragrance had filled the air!
Her lips curved in a mischievous smile.

While the other sales clerks busied themselves with the fashion show, Danielle commandeered a round display table by the front door in the foyer and quickly arranged her crystal bottles and brocade pouches.

She stepped back to admire her work, then glanced outside. Through the beveled glass door she could see Cameron Murphy and Abigail Newell-Grey, and behind them, a woman in a wide-brimmed, extravagant hat, whom Danielle recognized as Hedda Hopper, the Hollywood gossip columnist.

Perfect!
She smoothed her simple black sheath, straightened her shoulders, and drew a nervous breath. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching her, then picked up one of her crystal perfume bottles and smashed it onto the marble floor behind her.

In an instant, the scent of Chimère exploded, bathing the boutique with its intoxicating aroma.

Cameron opened the door for Abigail and Hedda Hopper. When he caught sight of Danielle, his dark eyes sparkled. “Why, it’s the beautiful Danielle. It’s been a long time since London,” he added. His deep voice was rich and silky, and seemed to imply much more than Danielle recalled. But that’s what had made Cameron an international singing sensation, Danielle reminded herself. That voice, and his charm. She smiled. When he had heard of Max’s death, he had been so kind to write to her and offer his assistance.

Abigail greeted Danielle with a kiss on the cheek. “Danielle, darling, you look lovely.” She shot a reprimanding look at Cameron. “Don’t mind him, he’s in rare form today. I’d like you to meet Hedda Hopper. May I present Danielle von Hoffman.”

“Danielle Bretancourt, please, my family name.” Danielle took Hedda’s proffered hand. In the present political climate, she had decided to use her family name. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” replied Hedda. She sniffed the air and her face lit with pleasure. “What is that marvelous aroma?”

Danielle could hardly contain herself. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I knocked over a bottle of perfume. I really must see to it. Please excuse me, and watch your step here.”

Hedda held onto her hand. “But, what is it? I can’t quite place it.”

“No?” Danielle smiled. “Well, I suppose not. After all, it is exclusive to Clara’s.”

“Really?” Hedda still held her hand. “Well, what is it?”

Danielle could see Abigail standing behind Hedda, a smile playing on her lips. “It’s called Chimère,
madame
.”

“Chimère? You say it so beautifully.” Hedda finally released her hand. “You’re French, aren’t you?”

“
Mais oui
.” Danielle picked up a bottle and sprayed a veil of scent across Hedda’s eagerly offered wrist.

Abigail leaned over to whisper in Hedda’s ear. “I happen to know it’s one of Lana Turner’s favorites.”

Hedda’s face flushed. “Really?”

“Really,” Cameron said. “Ginger Rogers, too,” he added with a wink. He stooped to pick up a shard of crystal. Danielle reached out to take it from him, and as she did, he caught her wrist with his other hand. He gazed deeply into her eyes as he spoke, his smoky voice mellowing every word. “You know, it’s a fragrance to make love by.”

Hedda waved her wrist under her nose. “A fragrance to make love by,” she intoned, her eyes fluttering. “Oh yes, it is. And how would you know, Cameron?”

Cameron pulled Danielle close, encircling her with one arm. “I know the creator, Hedda. And I think I know exactly what this woman is capable of.”

Danielle gave him a coy smile. “Do you now?” she said, gracefully extricating herself.

Hedda shot Abigail a knowing look. “I suppose there’s no better judge of aphrodisiacs than Cameron Murphy. Or so I’ve heard.” She gave Cameron a long, appraising look, then turned back to Danielle, and patted her arm. “I’ll take a bottle of this, and I want to talk to you after the show. I want to know all about you, my dear.” Then she waved to a distinguished man in a fine Savile Row suit entering the store. “Why, there’s Louis Silverman. Lou, darling.” She sailed away, leaving a fragrant wake behind her.

Danielle breathed a sigh of relief and Abigail nudged her in the ribs. “I suppose this concoction is yours, Danielle?”

“That’s right.”

“I thought so. It’s really lovely.” Abigail gave Cameron a playful punch in the arm. “And you! What a line: A fragrance to make love by. I can already see it in Hedda’s column tomorrow.”

Cameron shrugged. “Why not? That’s how the game is played, Abby.”

“And what game are you playing, Cam?”

“Game?” He glanced at Danielle. “No games. Just dinner. How about it, Danielle? I’m free tonight.”

“Well, I’m not, not if Hedda Hopper is going to write about my perfume.” Her head was spinning, and it wasn’t from Cameron Murphy’s advances. Danielle was already making a list in her mind of things to do.
I’ve got to buy more bottles, sew more pouches, tend to the children and my mother, shop for groceries, make dinner, wash clothes....
She sighed. Her list was endless. And she was already exhausted from her lack of sleep the night before. Still, she smiled to herself with a sudden surge of satisfaction as she thought of Hedda and Cameron, and their response.

After they moved on, Danielle cleaned up the broken crystal, but the magical aroma lingered in the air, drawing people to her table.

She watched Hedda chatting up everyone she met, gesturing to Danielle and the perfume. Danielle smiled to herself, half in joy, half in relief.
This is perfect, I couldn’t have chosen a more ideal devotee.

By the end of the show, she had started a waiting list for Chimère, and everyone clamored to be on it. “And I personally heard Cameron Murphy says it’s ‘a fragrance to make love by,’” she heard Hedda say. Danielle was elated. This was the break she so desperately needed.

Lou Silverman, head of Silverman Studios, added his name to the list, too. “Hedda told me you dropped a bottle just before she arrived,” he commented with a level gaze.

Her face burned. “An accident,” she murmured.

“A brilliant accident.” Lou’s eyes shone with a knowing intelligence. “Clara has a gold mine in you. I hope she knows it.”

Danielle averted her eyes, wincing inwardly. She knew Clara wouldn’t be happy that she had gone against her wishes today. As Lou examined the crystal bottle and pouch, she scanned the list she held in her hands and did a mental mathematical tally, pleased with her numbers.
Perhaps Clara will come around, or at least, not terminate me.
She could barely keep up with the weekly rent on the Bradley Arms hovel.

Cameron approached them. “Mr. Silverman, may I have a word with you?”

Lou swung around. “Cameron. What’s on your mind?”

In passing, Danielle noticed a change in Cameron’s attitude, but a woman who was interested in putting her name on Danielle’s waiting list soon drew her attention away.

Cameron said to Lou, “It’s about that movie you’re planning on producing with Erica.”

“We’re happy to have her, Cameron. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Did Conrad mention to you that I’d like the part of Jack?”

“Yes, your agent called. I’ll consider it. Of course, you’d have to read for the part.”

“Oh, sure, but you know, I haven’t read for a part in years.” Cameron flexed his jaw.

Lou shot him a look. “We shoot on a tight schedule, Cameron. Any delays cost us money.”

“Sure, and I know.” Cameron glanced down and ran his hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry about the last movie. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.”

“Listen, Erica and I were in a bad patch. I feel awful about everything that happened. I’ve cut down on the booze, Mr. Silverman, and Erica and I are on good terms.” He paused, his breath quickening. “She let me read her script, suggested I go out for the part of Jack. There’s a couple of great songs in there I know I can make into hits for you.”

Lou lowered his voice. “Look here, Cameron, I don’t know what Erica ever saw in you, but she’s my number one star, and I’ll let you read for the part just to keep her happy. But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your personal life sorted out and work on repairing your image. You want my advice? Get married, settle down.”

Just then, Hedda Hopper brushed past them. “Well, look who’s talking again,” she cooed.

Lou acknowledged her with a courteous nod. “Don’t get any ideas, Hedda. We were just discussing the weather.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She wagged a finger. “I heard you mention the ‘M’ word, Lou. Who’s getting married? Anyone I know?” She turned to Cameron, then threw a look at Danielle. “Well, if no one’s talking, I’ll just have to keep my eyes open.” With a theatrical sweep of her exotic hat, she flounced away in Danielle’s direction.

Lou followed Hedda’s gaze. “Now there’s an interesting thought, Cameron. Quite a lady, a woman of quality with a capital ‘Q.’”

Cameron’s mouth dropped open. “Hedda Hopper?”

Lou shot him a look that could curdle milk. “I meant Danielle Bretancourt.” He arched a brow. “Not your type, though, is she? Pity. That’s the type of woman you need. Smart, hard-working, respectable. A good woman, one who’d keep you out of trouble.”

Cameron coughed. “They say opposites attract, sir.”

“You should be so lucky, Cameron.”

“Ah, but remember,” Cameron said, lapsing into an Irish brogue, “I’ve got the luck o’ the Irish with me.”

Later that evening, Danielle stepped off the bus in front of her apartment building. Smiling to herself at the success of the evening, she opened the door to the building, then stopped at the mailboxes. She turned the key in her box and withdrew a letter that bore a London postmark. Her heart skipped.
It was from Jon.
She glanced up the stairwell. She knew her mother and the girls were safe with her neighbor for a few more minutes.

Danielle sat on the stairs and carefully opened the envelope. She unfolded a thin sheet of writing paper and began to read.

My dearest Danielle,
it began.
The seas were rough today, and now the night is so dark you can't see where the sea ends and the sky begins. Thoughts of you are ever present in my mind, I can't stop thinking of how you're faring in America. While I admire your courage, I know things must be very, very difficult for you.

You must know that I hated leaving you in Grasse. And I have a confession to make.

Before we parted ways in England, Max asked me to look after you in the event he didn't return from his mission. And the hardest thing I have ever had to do was to deliver the message to you that Max had been killed. How I hated hurting you, believe me, I would rather have taken a bullet myself. But I want you to know now, Danielle, that I will always be there for you, no matter how rocky our path might be.

It was so difficult to leave you in Grasse. Ever since the first time we met, I have wanted to take you in my arms and never let you go. But you were a married woman, and I respected that. I respected you and Max. What a fine man he was, Danielle. You were a fortunate woman, and I often wonder if I could ever measure up to him in your eyes. Did he know how I felt about you? Perhaps he did, and perhaps he knew that there was nothing I wouldn't do for you. If he did, I hope it eases his mind, wherever he is now, to know that you are cared for.