Gracie's head vanished into the hall.
“Her whole life long,” Paul said, returning to his tale, “Marion gave all her earnings from Rhapsodie to support the work of the convent. Eventually, she married and had one daughter. Like you.” He tapped Gemma's nose.
Her adoration of him glowed warm in her chest. Her cozy spot and his soft voice and the darkness were making her eyes heavy.
“To protect her creation,” he said, “Marion never did allow anyone to write down her recipe or process. She kept it all in her head until the time came to tell those secrets to her daughter. Marion asked that the secrets be handed down within the family that same way and that no less than a third of the profits always be given to God's work.”
“And that's what happened.”
He nodded. “In all the generations since, her family—my family—the Bettencourts, have honored her requests. Two hundred years ago, it was decided that no more and no less than two family members would know the secrets at any given time. Whenever one of those two dies, another is chosen to receive the information. That person must stand in a church before family and employees and swear their commitment to keep Marion's secrets private before they can be entrusted with them.”
“I want to be one of those people.”
“I know you do,ma cherie. But when I left France and the company, my brother and his line became the ones who'd inherit the secrets because they're the ones who run the company.”
“Does it make you sad? You could have been the one running it, the one with the secrets.”
“I'm very, very proud of my heritage, Gemma. And of Rhapsodie. But no. It does not make me sad. When I met Gracie, I knew that my destiny was different. My destiny was with her, here. I don't regret my decision. Not for one second.”
“It makesmekinda sad,” she said because he never minded when she admitted such things. “If you'd stayed in France, I'd get to grow up and learn the secrets and run the company.”
“If I'd stayed in France,” he said gently, “I'd never have married Gracie and we wouldn't have had our daughter Colette and she wouldn't have had her daughter Simone and Simone wouldn't have had her daughter, you. This way is better because you exist, Gemma. And the world needs a Gemma Clare. You have Marion's blood in your veins, and you also have her gift, never forget that. I've introduced all my children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren to fragrance, butyouare the only one who's shown a love and a talent for it.”
Even when she was very little, he'd encouraged her to smell things. Wild blueberries. Root beer floats. Steak. Lobster. Tree bark. They'd go on walks, and he'd pick leaves and rub them between his fingers and they'd both inhale the scents.
He and Gracie had given her a perfume-making set and she and Paul had spent a lot of time playing with it. Making perfumes. Laughing.
“If you want to,” he continued, “one day, you will do something better than run Marion's company and make Marion's perfume. You will make yourownperfumes and run yourowncompany. And that is precisely as it should be.”
Then he'd kissed the top of her head and she'd closed her eyes and coasted to sleep, carried by his love and his belief that she was special.
Gemma blinked, seeing again the frozen lake before her. Tears warbled her vision. He had beensogood to her. She missed his love and his belief.
Cedric's father was currently CEO of the Bettencourt company but Cedric, his oldest son, had been tapped as his successor. Two years ago, Cedric had made the public oath in a church, after which his father had taught him Rhapsodie's age-old recipe and method. It was still shared through oral retelling only. Never was it written down on paper or in digital format.
Over the centuries, Rhapsodie's renown had grown to worldwide proportions. It was a work of uncontested brilliance and had become one of the most exclusive and expensive fragrances in existence. The Bettencourts had become the captains of a powerhouse business. Over time, they'd added more fragrances to their line. They offered ten perfumes now and they were all very, very good. But Rhapsodie was by far the most successful, famous, and excellent of them all.
Gemma was, and always had been, fiercely proud of Rhapsodie.
Her great-grandfather could never have imagined a situation that would require Gemma to step in and guard Marion's masterpiece. Yet, he'd prepared her for that role just the same, grooming her through his lessons, his bedtime stories, and the honorable way he'd lived his life.
Her fear of making an enemy of Cedric remained. And, God help her, she earnestly didnotwant to rupture the relationship between the American and French branches of her family. But Cedric had sunk so low that he was willing to betray Rhapsodie. And she'd been presented with an opportunity to prevent that. She was going to have to set aside her bitterness toward the FBI and deal with whatever consequences came for her and her family down the road.
Because the thing that mattered most was this.
Cedricmust be stopped.
* * *
The following morning, it took Gemma less than a minute to compose a text to Agent Camden short on letters but long on consequences.
Gemma
I’m willing to serve as a cooperating witness in the case against Cedric.
She stared at what she'd typed, her finger hovering over the button that would send it away. At last, she lowered her finger.Whoosh.
It seemed like an earthquake should strike or thunder boom in response. Yet only the usual comforting sounds of her home surrounded her. The chug of her old heater, water lapping at the pillars below.
