The Secret Ways of Perfume by Cristina Caboni

came to clear up a couple of things.”
    â€œIf it’s about the perfume, I closed the deal with Shindia today. We’ll be selling their perfumes. Your second choice is good, but the other one is better. Naturally I’ll give you what I owe you for finding it.”
    How could he make her feel worthless in so few words? For a moment Monique thought of telling him where he could stick his money, but all that would achieve would be to close the door to Narcissus for Elena.
    â€œIn Florence, I asked a friend to help me. Like I told you, I didn’t choose that perfume myself.”
    A few seconds of silence and then: “So who is this perfume wizard, this . . . nose?” The conceit in his voice convinced Monique that she was doing the right thing. He was a bastard, she reminded herself. And the worst kind. She would be better off without him.
    â€œI’m leaving Narcissus. I just came to tell you.”
    Another silence, longer this time, until he finally lifted his head and looked at her.
    â€œIsn’t that a little excessive? I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so touchy.”
    Jacques put on his lab coat, his expression grim. In front of him stood a row of tiny aluminum bottles containing essential oils. Therest of the ingredients were in glass containers, vials and alembics of all shapes and sizes. On the steel table sat a number of droppers and paper funnels, and in the middle of it all, a measuring cylinder emitting an intense perfume. He opened his mouth to go on, and then looked at the cylinder, as if it were only then that he remembered what he was doing.
    â€œWait. I need to write down the last step, then we’ll talk.” He leaned over the table and scribbled on a pad next to the perfume the exact number of grams of essence he had just used.
    Monique watched him, then gave a sad smile. “There’s always something more important,” she said quietly. She waited a few more minutes. Jacques went over to the computer on the next table, entered a code, took his time to read something, then went back to the pad and continued to write.
    â€œGoodbye, Jacques.”
    The sound of the pencil snapping cut through the silence between them.
    â€œI can’t listen to you now. You know that full well.”
    Of course. What had she been thinking? Had she really expected anything different? Something like despair rose up in Monique.
    â€œYou’ll find my resignation letter on your desk,” she said after a long pause, and closed the door behind her.
    As she walked away, she half-expected to hear his footsteps behind her . . . She prayed he’d hurry to catch up with her, talk to her. She stood and waited another minute in front of the exit, counting the seconds, still prepared to give him a bit more time. Then she pushed the door with both hands, walking out onto the shop floor of Narcissus, elegant, bright, brimming with customers. She greeted a few colleagues, quickly collected her things from behind one of the counters and left.
    With his eyes fixed on the security camera, Jacques watched hereven after she’d left the shop. When she disappeared from the video, he swore violently, running his hands through his hair, and collapsed into an armchair.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Another ruined one!
    Elena wrinkled her nose, quickly pulling the bottle away. It smelled rancid. She’d cast aside around fifty essential oils that had gone bad; she’d have to throw them all away. There was no chance of saving anything.
    She couldn’t have reopened her grandmother’s shop even if she’d wanted to. She’d gone to the basement to check what state things were in down there since the shop had closed. She still hadn’t decided to go down the perfume route—she hadn’t got that far. But since she didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with her life, it was as good an option as any. It was