Scent of Magic (8 page)

Sunday morning had become Starley's favorite time to rollerblade around Prosperity with Larry. Quite possibly, the Duchesne sisters were the only three people in town who didn't attend church. It's not that they were against worship or didn't believe in God. No that wasn't it at all. The main reason they never attended church in any of the communities they'd lived had been because they were never particularly welcomed inside a house of worship with open arms.

Francesca and Juliette hadn't gotten out of bed yet. Since Sunday was the only day The Perfumery didn't open for business, they usually slept in later than usual. Starley had been too keyed up to sleep, so she threw back the covers and climbed from a toasty warm bed instead.

Starley laced up her rollerblades and clipped Larry's leash to a belt loop on her jeans before slipping out the front door. The sun had just started to creep over the horizon. It was cool but not cold, and a thin sheen of frost covered the grass. Starley pulled the hood up on her jacket.

"Mush, Larry!" Starley flicked Larry's leash, and the eager terrier bolted down the street at full speed. She giggled, and the breath left her lips in a wispy trail.

Starley had mapped a five-mile route around town, two and a half miles out, two and a half miles back. The turnaround point was just past the church. She didn't let Larry do all the work, but she had to pump her feet to keep up with him. He had an endless supply of energy, and five miles would just take the edge off.

As she approached the halfway mark, the Sunday morning churchgoers were just beginning to arrive in the parking lot. Pastor Byrd's black SUV sat near the side entrance. Starley was about to turn around and start her trek back home when she thought she heard yelling. Not wanting to pry, but too curious not to, Starley skated closer and used the cover of trees to peek around and find out who it was.

"What did you say to me?" Pastor Byrd stared wide-eyed at his wife.

Mrs. Byrd pulled the silly looking hat off of her head and threw it to the ground. "I said I am not wearing this stupid looking thing. It looks like a damn rat's nest."

Pastor Byrd's eyes darted back and forth. "Do not take that tone with me, Donna. And please watch your language. This is sacred property."

Mrs. Byrd snorted and jumped up and down on the hat, grinding it into the gravel. "Yes, and we're going to Sunday morning services, not a funeral. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that hat to a funeral." She huffed and stomped up the steps into the church.

Starley laughed, and Pastor Byrd's head whipped in her direction. She ducked down, and he squinted to get a better look. "Who's there?" he called out.

Starley's shoulders shook with silent laughter and tears rolled down her face. She bit her lip to keep from being heard. After a half a minute or so, Pastor Byrd bent to retrieve the remains of Mrs. Byrd's hat. He dusted it off and tossed it into the front seat of his car before turning to go into the church.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Starley busted out laughing. She shook her head and tugged on Larry's leash. "Looks like Mrs. Byrd grew a pair, huh, Larry?"

Every time Starley pictured the look on Pastor Byrd's face when Mrs. Byrd stomped on that hat, she started giggling uncontrollably and had to stop to catch her breath.

By the time she made it back to the house, Francesca and Juliette were seated at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Starley slipped off her rollerblades and unhooked Larry's leash. She plopped down across from Francesca and reached for an orange from the bowl of fruit at the center of the table.

As she peeled away the rind she started giggling.

Francesca quirked an eyebrow. "What's tickling your funny bone this morning?"

"Oh my God, you aren't going to believe what I saw when I skated by the church a few minutes ago," Starley said. She popped an orange wedge into her mouth and chewed slowly, building suspense.

"Well, are you going to tell us, or do we have to guess?" Juliette asked.

Starley brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. "Larry and I skated to the church parking lot, and we were just about to turn around and head back when I heard shouting."

"So, you what? Eavesdropped?" Francesca said, shaking her head.

"Of course I did," Starley said with a grin.

"I'm dying here. Spill," Juliette asked.

"I don't know if I should repeat what I saw," Starley said with a smirk. "You know, since I
was
eavesdropping and that's like wrong and stuff."

Juliette threw a piece of bread crust at Starley. "I'm not the moral thermometer here. You can tell me. Frank can just shut her ears."

Starley chewed on another wedge of her orange and swallowed. "Pastor Byrd yelled at his wife. She yelled right back. And, she had this crazy looking hat on. Apparently, she didn't like the hat very much because she threw it on the ground and stomped on it. She even swore at him. I thought I was going to pee my pants I laughed so hard."

Juliette spewed her coffee. "She did what?"

"She told him she wasn't wearing that ridiculous looking hat. Poor ol' Pastor Byrd's face turned as red as Dorothy's slippers. I thought he might bust a blood vessel or something. He was
so
mad," Starley said.

Francesca shook her head and pinched her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger. Starley could see she was trying hard not to smile, but her eyes gave her away.

"Come on, Frank. Admit it. It's funny. Mrs. Byrd finally got the balls to stand up to her husband," Starley said.

"Starley Duchesne, watch your mouth," Francesca warned.

Juliette covered her laugh with a fake cough. She stood and rinsed her coffee cup in the sink. "Looks like Pastor Byrd gave his wife a gift that keeps on giving."

"I hope this doesn't all blow up in our faces," Francesca said quietly.

"There's no way anyone can connect Mrs. Byrd's new attitude with The Perfumery," Juliette said. "Relax, Frank."

"Maybe not, but you know as well as I do, these things have a way of backfiring at the worst possible moment," Francesca said.

Starley frowned. "I wish I wouldn't have told you now."

"Nah, Squirt. This is the best entertainment I've had since we moved to this boring little backwoods town. The pastor's wife pitching a fit might be exactly what's needed to liven things up around here," Juliette said.

"Let's just hope that it doesn't all come crashing down around us," Francesca said. She stood and scraped her plate into the garbage disposal. "And that Mrs. Byrd wears her dresses long enough that nobody notices her …
balls
."

Starley exchanged glances with Juliette, and the three of them cackled with laughter.

"Language, Frank," Starley chastised.

Bright and early Monday morning, Francesca sat at the counter of The Perfumery poring over the books and figuring out what supplies to order. The door wasn't unlocked yet, and Juliette was still at home.

Someone knocked on the front glass, and Francesca glanced up from her paperwork. She gasped when she saw Pastor Byrd's red face peering through the door at her. Francesca slid from the stool and fetched the door key from her jacket pocket.

She wasn't in a big hurry, and if she thought she could have stalled any longer, she would have. Taking a deep breath, she blew it out slowly and crossed the floor to let Pastor Byrd inside. The key turned in the deadbolt, and Francesca pushed open the door.

"Pastor Byrd, the shop doesn't open for another forty-five minutes," she said.

She had to force herself to be civil to him. There was something about the man she didn't like. From the visions she picked up when his wife had been there, she knew he was a controlling bastard and Francesca despised men like that.

"Good morning, Miss Duchesne," Pastor Byrd said removing his hat. "I apologize for the inconvenience, and I won't keep you." He stepped further inside.

Francesca clenched her teeth. "Couldn't this wait until business hours? I have supplies to order and some bookkeeping to take care of."

"No, it really can't," Pastor Byrd said. He raked his hand through his thinning hair. "I need to know what kind of hoodoo voodoo you pulled to get my wife to turn on me like she has."

"Excuse me?" Francesca nearly choked on his choice of words, and had his accusations not been such a serious matter; she might have laughed in his face. "I'm sorry? I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about Pastor Byrd."

"Don't play coy with me, Ms. Duchesne. You know very well that my wife was in here and made a purchase Saturday afternoon," he said.

"Yes, of course," Francesca said. She folded her arms in front of her chest. "I believe you bought a gift certificate for her, for her birthday."

"I did," Pastor Byrd grumbled, his face getting redder by the minute.

"Did you not like the scent she picked out?" Francesca asked, smiling sweetly. Her head spun with the stench of wet dog, and she backed away from Pastor Byrd so she could take a clean, deep breath.

His eyes slitted. "My wife is a gentle soul. Or, at least she
was
until you got her into your clutches. Now, she's not herself at all. She talked back to me the other day and destroyed a very expensive hat. It was almost as though she'd been possessed."

Before Francesca could recover from his accusations and think of a comeback, the bell over the door jingled, and Juliette stepped inside. Silently, Francesca communicated the urgency of the situation.

"Pastor Byrd, are you here for another gift certificate? Perhaps for a member of your staff, this time?" Juliette asked.

Juliette was much stronger than Francesca and unlike her sister, Juliette was not afraid to use a little -- or a lot -- of magic if the situation warranted. From the tension she sensed the second she walked into the shop, she could tell it might have been one of those situations.

Pastor Byrd whirled around and sneered. "I won't spend another dime in this establishment. In fact, as soon as I start spreading the word at the sorcery taking place inside, I don't think anyone else in this town will, either."

Juliette was taken aback by how much he resembled a wolf. In spite of his threats, she wasn't about to let him intimidate her. She'd been through this very same scenario too many times to count.

"Our products speak for themselves, Pastor Byrd. You can tell whomever you want, but I doubt it will do you much good. Good always has a way of winning out over evil, isn't that what the church preaches?" Juliette stepped toward him, letting him know he didn't scare her any with his idle threats.

Francesca stepped between them in case Juliette decided to make it physical and remove him from the premises. "Pastor Byrd, I'm not quite sure what it is you believe my sister and me to be guilty of, but unless you have proof to back up your accusations, I would keep my mouth shut if I were you. Otherwise, you could find yourself on the wrong side of a lawsuit."

"Yes, and you know how lawyers have ways of digging up dirt that's better left undisturbed," Juliette added. She narrowed her eyes and wiggled her nose.

Pastor Byrd blanched and backed away. "Stay away from me. Stay away from my wife. Stay away from my son."

He shoved the front door so forcefully; Francesca worried that it might come off the hinges.

"It's a good thing I showed up when I did. Otherwise, I might have found you cowering in the corner drooling," Juliette said. She shook her head at Francesca.

"I was merely trying to handle the situation calmly and rationally," Francesca said quietly. She crossed to the front floor and turned the closed sign to open. Her hands trembled. Admittedly, Pastor Byrd had rattled her cage. "I'd rather not make an enemy out of the man."

"I think we may be too late. Besides, his bark is worse than his bite," Juliette said as she took off her jacket and hung it up behind the counter. "What's he going to tell people? That his wife stood up to him for the first time?  And it was all because of some perfume she bought at The Perfumery? You do realize how silly that sounds, right?"

A smile slid across Francesca's face. "You make a very valid point, sister dear."

"Of course I do," Juliette said.

Juliette walked into the back room and unlocked the safe and took out the thick spell book. The tome weighed a ton, and some of the pages had started to come loose from the binding. Juliette rubbed her hand lovingly over the deep red leather cover. It had been in the family for centuries, and if there wasn't a spell in that book, well, then one didn't exist.

Francesca frowned at Juliette. "What are you doing with that?"

"I haven't played with any new spells in a long time. I thought it might be nice to try some new recipes."

"It's not like some cookbook where you can try a new batch of cookies, you know," Francesca pointed out. "There are some very dangerous potions in that book. Be careful."

"Careful is my middle name, sister love," Juliette whispered.

Pastor Byrd was furious when he stormed into the church office after his confrontation at The Perfumery. What kind of a fool did those two witches take him for? His private secretary, Sandy Davidson, looked up from her morning coffee.

"Good morning, Pastor Byrd," she said cheerfully.

He scowled at her. "Do I look like I'm having a good morning, to you, Sandy?"

Sandy stood and walked around to take Pastor Byrd's jacket and hat. "Well, if you'll pardon me for saying, pastor, you do seem a little disheveled."

He smoothed his shirt. "Just a little."

"What's got you so upset, pastor?" Sandy asked.

He shook his head and crossed to the coffee pot to pour a cup. "It's Donna. She's taken leave of her senses. Look at me. There's a stain on my shirt," he pointed to a barely visible spot on the cuff. "She's refused to do my laundry. She's started talking back to me. I don't know what to do. I'm at my wit's end."

Sandy nodded sympathetically. She had always admired Pastor Byrd's wife, and couldn't imagine the woman disrespecting her husband. "I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation, pastor."

"Yes, there is. It's those witches at The Perfumery," Pastor Byrd grumbled.

Sandy chuckled. She was sure he had to be kidding until she saw the stern look on his face. She stifled her laughter and asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

Pastor Byrd waved her off and collapsed into the chair behind his large antique roll top desk. "I don't think there's anything anyone can do. I've tried to talk some sense into her, but she won't listen to me."

"What makes you think the Duchesne women are to blame?" Sandy asked.

"I bought Donna a gift certificate from that den of sin. She went there Saturday and bought some perfume," Pastor Byrd said.

"Forgive me, pastor. I'm not following you," Sandy said. She refilled her coffee cup and sat behind her desk.

"Whatever it was they sold her, she put it on and hasn't been the same since," Pastor Byrd said.

"Pastor, that's impossible," Sandy said. He glared at her icily, and she quickly added, "I mean, isn't it?"

"You have a better explanation?" Pastor Byrd opened his day planner and glanced over his schedule for the week.

"Why don't I pay them a visit," Sandy offered. "I could have a look around. See what they're up to. Buy a little something just to see for myself."

"What good would that do?" Pastor Byrd asked. "The last thing I need is two possessed women on my hands."

"Relax. If I start speaking in tongues, or my head starts to spin around, then we'll know there's something evil happening behind the closed doors of The Perfumery." She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. "It certainly couldn't hurt anything. Maybe I'll find a nice perfume to wear for when Carl and I chaperone the homecoming dance next week."

"If you start acting like a crazy woman, I don't want Carl getting mad at me," Pastor Byrd said.

Sandy tipped her head back and laughed. "Pastor, I'm only doing this to prove you're wrong about The Perfumery. Nothing crazy will happen. I'm sure Donna's just been reading too many women's magazines and thinks that by standing up for herself it will make you respect her more, or something silly like that."

Pastor Byrd's forehead wrinkled. "Well, I guess there's nothing to lose. It's not like I have to live with
you
."

"Who knows," Sandy said with a wink. "Maybe it will put a little life back into our relationship."

Pastor Byrd's face reddened with embarrassment, and he covered his ears. "Too much information, Sandy."

"I'll go over my lunch hour today," She said. "The sooner we can put this all behind us, the faster we can get to the bottom of Donna's behavior. Would you like me to talk to her for you? See what she says?"

"That might be a good idea. Woman to woman," Pastor Byrd agreed. "She's more likely to confide in you than she is me. She seems to think I'm the anti-Christ right now."

"I'll invite her to ride with me to book club on Wednesday night," Sandy said.

"Fine, fine," Pastor Byrd said absently. "I've got a meeting with the roofing company for an estimate on those shingles that blew off in the windstorm last month."

He gathered his paperwork and stuffed it into his briefcase. Sandy smiled at him and nodded. "Don't you worry about a thing, Pastor Byrd. You'll look back on this in a few weeks and laugh about it."

He raised an eyebrow at her and put his hat and coat on again. "I hope you're right, Sandy. Though, I seriously doubt I'll ever find any of this funny."

At a few minutes before noon, Sandy slipped on her coat and grabbed her handbag. She'd been trying to find an excuse to get over to The Perfumery, and this was the perfect reason. The day was chilly, but she decided to walk the few blocks rather than drive.

Sandy was a plain woman in her mid-thirties. She'd never been married but had been with Carl for seven years. Lately, their personal life had become a little … predictable. A trip to The Perfumery would kill two birds with one stone. No pun intended.

The front door to The Perfumery was propped open when Sandy stopped in front of the glass-fronted shop. She took a deep breath and slipped inside.

Francesca glanced up from the mortar and pestle where she had been grinding fresh herbs together with some essential oils to create some a new scent. She had a dream that told her what she needed to make, that it would make the perfect aroma for the perfect person. Francesca often had dreams like that, and if she'd learned anything in her thirty-six years, it was to never doubt her dream visions.

"Hello," Francesca said to the thin woman with carrot orange curls. "Welcome to The Perfumery."

Sandy smiled and said, "Hi, thank you."

"I'm Francesca Duchesne," Francesca said, offering her hand.

"Sandy Davidson," Sandy said, shaking Francesca's hand. "Nice to make your acquaintance."

Francesca inhaled a slow, deep breath, taking in the scent of Sandy. Sandy wanted to spice up her sex life. Francesca grinned when she realized why she'd been told to create a pheromone-based oil.

"Come, let me show you our newest creation," Francesca led Sandy to the other side of the shop. "I think it has your name written all over it."

Sandy nodded, looking this way and that to take in all of the curious, yet beautiful bottles on display. There had to be hundreds of them. She breathed in the heady scents and relaxed.

"This place smells divine," Sandy said quietly.

Francesca smiled knowingly. "How nice of you to say. I guess after being in here day in and day out, I don't even notice anymore."

Francesca strained her newest creation into a bottle and handed it to Sandy. "Here, tell me what you think."

Sandy sniffed. "Oh, my wow. This smells yummy."

"I thought you might like it," Francesca said with a laugh. "All of our products are non-toxic, but I wouldn't ingest any of them. No matter how yummy they smell."

Sandy dabbed some of the perfume behind her ears. "This is very nice. Not too overwhelming, subtle. I'll take it."

Those were the kinds of sales Francesca liked to make. No haggling over the price. Sold with one whiff. "Great! Would you like a box?"

Sandy shook her head. "No, I'll just stick it in my purse."

Francesca rang up the sale and cautioned the woman, "Remember, as with all of our products, a little dab goes a long way. Use it sparingly. Otherwise, you might just have to fend off all the men in town."

"I don't think I'll have to worry about that," Sandy said with a chuckle. "Men don't ever seem to notice me. There's only one man in my life. If he likes it, then it's worth its weight in gold."

Sandy hummed to herself all the way back to the church. She didn't know what all the fuss was about, Francesca Duchesne seemed like a really nice person. There had to be some other reason for Donna Byrd's sudden change of personality. Pastor Byrd could be hard to get along with, and Sandy imagined he might even be a dictator at home. She never thought about it before, after all, she didn't have to live with him.

Pastor Byrd narrowed his eyes at Sandy when she walked into the office. She hung her coat on the peg and smiled at him.

"Did you find anything out?" Pastor Byrd asked.

Sandy shook her head. "Nothing out of the ordinary, if that's what you mean."

The scowl on Pastor Byrd's face deepened. "I hope you didn't buy anything while you were there."

"Of course not," Sandy lied. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, it wasn't any of his business. If her new perfume made Carl an animal in bed, Sandy would return and buy a gallon of the stuff. Maybe he'd finally get around to proposing.

She giggled to herself at the thought. Sandy was a sensible woman. She scolded herself.
You should know better than to put such trust in a perfume. If Carl hasn't asked you to marry him in seven years, a little bottle of perfume isn't going to get him to pop the question.

"I sent you over there to spy on them for me, and you come back smiling like a lunatic," Pastor Byrd said with a heavy sigh. "No matter, they'll dig their own graves soon enough."