Page 140 of Perfume Girl
“I mean, what is so important that you’d throw away what you guys had?”
“He told you about us?”
“He was giddy over you, Raquel. He’s a great guy and I can’t get over how you’re willing to throw that away.” She held my gaze again. “Why is that perfume so important that you’d risk ruining your relationship with him?”
“It took years to create. My heart and soul are in it. If I license it I could save my shop. But I don’t care about any of that now. I just want to see Astor and prove my intentions were good.”
“Can’t you just create a new one?” She cringed as she spoke the words. “I mean, why blow up your job and betray Astor…”
“It represents all that I am,” I burst out. “It’s the scent of my soul.”
“Oh, God,” she said. “You really believe that?”
I swiped away a tear. “Tell Astor I never meant any of this to happen. Tell him I love him.”
Taylor watched me get in my car, and then tapped on the window.
With a press of a button I lowered it. “I’m sorry if I put you in a tough position, Taylor. I value our friendship.”
“I’m fine.” She glanced up at the window again. “Look, I didn’t tell you this but Astor’s at Bridgestone. If you leave now you’ll catch him.”
Swiping at another rogue tear I gave her a nod of thanks.
“Drive safe,” she said. “Promise?”
I nodded, giving her a watery smile.
She’d gifted me with a chance to persuade him I was telling the truth. All I had to do was show him the formula in this ledger and I would be exonerated.
Why hadn’t I done that before?
Because you wanted even more evidence than that, I reasoned. A perfume made with him in the store would have been indisputable.
They say hope is a dangerous thing, but it was all I had to hold on to. As I drove up the road leading to Bridgestone Manor, a sense of calm came over me. Maybe it was because I was drawing closer to seeing Astor again, or maybe it was because I knew deep down we’d shared something precious that neither of us could deny, something that would outlast this nightmare.
The remnants of the hurricane could be seen in the scattered leaves and ragged palm trees—though South Beach had been spared the brunt of the damage.
Astor’s Range Rover was parked outside the manor. I felt a jolt of excitement when I saw proof he was here. I parked beside his car and headed toward the front door.
After five minutes of waiting for someone to answer the doorbell I went for it and entered. Standing in the foyer I called out, “Hello!”
The entryway was vast and lavish…a true statement of wealth with its tall oriental-style vases holding their lush green plants and the bright touches of color that reflected their Cuban heritage.
I tried to imagine what it would have been like growing up in this big house. My flesh chilled as I thought about Astor spending his childhood here and then being forced to leave it suddenly.
A noise coming from upstairs drew my attention, and I held on to the banister as I ascended, ready to explain why I’d turned up unannounced. Surely Astor felt the same about not giving up on us so easily, that we were worth fighting for. A connection as deep as ours couldn’t be thrown away. Surely some part of him believed that, too.
My gaze swept up. To the right of the balcony stood an elegantly dressed older woman, her familiarity to Astor convincing me she was his mother.
“Sorry to bother you,” I called up. “I’m looking for Astor.”
“Raquel?” Her expression was unreadable.
“Yes, Astor told you about me?”
She gave me a thin smile, then turned and headed away.
I hurried up the staircase and along the balcony, following after her, hoping she’d not consider me rude. “Mrs. Beauregard, may I speak with you?”
