The Secret Ways of Perfume Read Online Free PDF Page B

her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress. Maurice turned to Susanna, who was preparing dinner, brandishing the piece of paper.
    â€œDo you think this will fix things between us?” he asked in a hushed voice, almost whispering. “One big happy family? You, me, and . . .
his
child? Now you’re using the girl to convince me?”
    Susanna turned pale. “It’s just a drawing,” she told him in a tiny voice.
    â€œYou know full well what I think,” he shouted, scrunching up the paper in his huge fist and throwing it into a corner. “What will it take to make you understand?”
    A tense silence fell over them, broken by a single sob from Elena.
    As though he suddenly realized what he had done, Maurice looked at the little girl, then slowly picked the paper up from the floor, smoothing it out in his fingers.
    â€œHere,” he said, holding it out to her.
    But she shook her head. Maurice put it on the table, gave a shrug and, out of nowhere, he started to laugh.
    If she tried hard, even after all these years, Elena could still remember that harsh, forced sound.
    Susanna sent her to play at Monique’s house. As she was leaving, Elena heard them begin to argue and then she started to run. Jasmine dried her tears, assuring her that Maurice just hadn’t understood what she’d drawn. “Grown-ups often do things like that,” she said. “They don’t understand and they get scared.” Then she took the child by the hand and walked her home.
    Maurice wasn’t there anymore. Susanna’s eyes were red and puffy. Jasmine made tea and stayed with them late into the night. The next morning, Susanna packed their bags and she and Elena left. They were away for the whole spring. But then they went back.
    They always went back, and Maurice was always there. And that was where Elena had first encountered the smell of hatred. Cold, like the smell of a starless night after the rain has stopped but the wind continues to howl. The smell of hatred is frightening.
    A few months later, Elena turned eight. In the autumn they left again, and this time she stayed in Florence with her grandmother.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œI like these,” Elena said, breaking the thread of her memory and returning to Florence and the Pitti Fragranze event.
    The crystal bottles she’d been looking at sparkled under the spotlights; they were unique, all angles and character.
    â€œNo, too bold. Jacques wants something more harmonious.”
    After a moment, Elena said thoughtfully, “Harmony is a subjectiveconcept and it’s definitely not a trendsetter. If it’s something new you’re looking for, Monie, you have to go further. You have to be daring.”
    Her friend stared at her for a moment. “What would you choose, Elena?”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œYes, you. How about we split up to find the right perfume? Then Jacques would have two choices. He loves that kind of thing.
Oui
, it’s decided. We’ll meet here in an hour and then I’ll take you to lunch. Today there’s Sunday brunch at the Four Seasons—it’s quite an experience. I’ve got Jacques’s credit card, we’ll go all out, and you can do me the favor of wiping that miserable look off your face. Come on, so you lost a lover, it’s no big deal. Do you have any idea how many men would go crazy for you if you let them?” asked Monique, wagging a finger. “Loads,
chérie. G
uys would be lining up.”
    â€œYeah, course they would.” Elena didn’t even have the energy to lose her temper with Monie, and why should she? Tact had never been her friend’s strong point; she knew that well enough. Even as a child, Monie had spoken her mind without worrying about the consequences.
    Suddenly, she needed to be alone. Monique was the person she loved most in the world, but at that moment Elena felt too vulnerable and exposed.