Free The Scent of Rain by Kristin Billerbeck Page B

another at my usual skill level, I’ll give you an honest opinion.”
    If Daphne had hoped to find refuge in the quality of her work, she realized that probably wasn’t going to happen. From what she could glean, Gibraltar was on the brink of bankruptcy, and it was hard to cover up the stench of failure with a signature scent.

Chapter 5
    J esse exhaled as Daphne left for the lab, and he cradled his head in his hands. Her presence was a diversion that his department didn’t have time for. He had to find a place, a project, and a salary for her—all for the dog-and-pony show that was the shareholders’ meeting. It wasn’t enough to make and sell good products; he had to show constant growth and movement within his department. Under Dave’s direction, most of that movement seemed to be backward. But maybe that was only sour grapes talking. Leaving his vice president position at Procter & Gamble hadn’t been easy; answering to Dave only made things worse.
    He tapped a letter on his desk, with its professional stationery and Mark Goodman’s name emblazoned across the top. He wouldn’t have remembered that Mark was Daphne’s former fiancé until the letter arrived, and clarity with it. There was a knock at his door, and he shuffled the letter under another paper and looked up. “Anne, how’s everything going?”
    â€œSince I saw you ten minutes ago? Fine, why?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
    â€œNo reason. Always want to make sure my pastor is taking care of his wife, that’s all. I’m concerned like that.”
    â€œYou are,” she said, but her arms remained crossed in front of her, as if she wasn’t quite buying it. “I wanted to let you know I made a reservation at the Spaghetti Warehouse. You sure know how to impress a girl.”
    â€œI do my best.”
    â€œWhy wouldn’t you take her to the lab yourself? You’ve taken every other new employee. Is it because you didn’t want to hire a nose? Or because she’s so pretty?”
    He sighed, exasperated. “Look at my desk. You can’t even see the wood. It’s because I’m busy and didn’t expect a new employee today. Nothing more to it than that.”
    Anne looked past him out the window. “Is she very much like Hannah?”
    â€œShe’s nothing like Hannah,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Nothing at all.”
    â€œShe’s obviously artistic. Wasn’t Hannah an artist?”
    He loved Anne, but sometimes she overstepped her boundaries. Saying that Hannah and Daphne were alike simply because they both harbored artistry in their blood was like saying Winston Churchill and Hitler were alike because they were both leaders.
    â€œAnne, I’d rather not talk about it. Daphne is no wilting flower who needs your support, I can promise you that much. If you’ll excuse me . . .” He looked back down at his desk.
    Anne gave him that consoling look he’d come to hate. “Fine, she’s nothing like Hannah—only be nice to the girl. I wanted to keep this from becoming a sermon, but Dave is just looking for an excuse. He’s been threatened by you since you came; don’t give him the reason he needs to let you go. Just show Daphne the same respect you’d show any other formulator.” Anne walked out of his office, and he stared at the place where she’d stood.
    Jesse had never heard her talk like that. To anyone. It served as a reminder that Daphne was probably brought in for the specific reason of becoming the cause for Jesse’s firing. He’d get no credit for any of the financial troubles he’d solved, but he’d take all of the blame for what Dave deemed as his failures.
    The new nose had waltzed into his office in her peacock-blue tweed suit as if she owned the place. The fact that she’d smelled baby powder upon sight of him made him feel about as masculine as a drag