Page 42 of Perfume Girl
“And before that?”
“I grew up in Penzance.”
“Are your parents still living there?”
“No, not anymore.” On his glance my way I added, “I was in foster care for a while.”
“May I ask why?”
“My mother wasn’t well enough to take care of me.” I drew in a sharp breath and prepared to tell the tried and tested tale. “She had leukemia. She died soon after I arrived in my first foster home.” I gave a shrug. “My memories of her are happy ones. Trips to the beach…building sandcastles, eating Cornish ice cream. Visiting her favorite perfume store in Truro. She made Christmas and birthdays special.”
“I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely sincere. “There weren’t any other relatives who could take you in?”
“No.”
He caught and held my gaze. “You’ve done well, Raquel. Your mom would be proud of you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to disagree and ruin the moment. I was a divorcée who was in the process of losing all I had built up over the years so I felt more of a failure than I ever had. “I was offered a job in New York and things took off from there.”
He flashed a smile. “Your résumé is impressive. I’m flattered you want to work for me. ”
I gripped my seat when we hit a wave. “You’re the best there is, Mr. Beauregard.” Then quickly added, “I mean…your company is the best.”
The sunset was glorious and even though I’d failed to get the answers I needed there was still a possibility I would find a moment to talk with Astor later. I was sure he’d be reasonable. He was certainly being accommodating right now.
I laid my head back and savored the sunny view, the rush of the wind cooling my face. I found myself relaxing and then realized I was actually having fun.
“Can I ask you something personal?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Are you in debt?”
“Not if I sell my store. Why?”
“Just trying to work out your motivation.”
“For working for you?” I turned to look at him. “I’m grateful for my job.”
“I have this feeling, Raquel, that you’re not telling me the truth.”
“About what?”
He stared at me, his smile seductive.
“Does this have anything to do with the quality of my work?” I asked.
“I’m sure your work is exceptional.”
Ahead, I could see what looked like the mirage of a harbor. I squinted to try and locate a landmark, but nothing looked familiar. I was going to have to find my way back to Key West. Maybe Astor would consider giving me a lift.
“Where are we?” My frown deepened as I took in the whitewashed homes and colorful stores beyond the marina. I still saw nothing recognizable as he directed the boat toward the dock.
“This is your moment to confess, Raquel.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t like secrets—especially when they affect me.”
