* * *
An hour later, Gemma received a reply from Cedric.
Cedric
Very good! I'll think on it.
She took a screenshot and sent that to Jude.
Jude
Great. Don't press it. Acknowledge Cedric's text as quickly as you normally would in the way you normally would, with a brief text in return, or an emoji, reaction, etc.
She held her finger over Cedric's text and selected the thumbs-up reaction.
The dominos had begun to fall.
ChapterTen
On Sunday, Fiona’s doorbell rang fifteen minutes before Jude had told her he'd be coming by. Fortunately, this did not catch her unawares. She tended to run a hair behind schedule because excellence in preparation required time. But Jude was always,always, at least fifteen minutes early, God love him. Thus, she planned on him being twenty minutes early so that if she was running five minutes behind, their timelines would align perfectly, as they had today.
She opened her door and was assailed with the same emotion she typically experienced upon coming face-to-face with one of her sons. Bottomless pride. She might not be perfect, but she had done some things right in the mothering department because she'd raised two of the best and most accomplished men.
She hugged him. The surprise she felt at how big and tall her boys had grown was evergreen. They'd been this size for around twenty years now and she'd yet to rectify in her mind their current strong builds with her memories of them when they were little. How couldherJude—the quiet, wary towhead who'd known his entire alphabet at the age of sixteen months—be this large person?
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi.” She patted his face. “So good to see you.”
He was dressed as casually as she ever saw him, except for when he was on his way to the gym or the beach or wearing pajamas. His pale green crewneck sweater emphasized the color of his eyes. His jeans were faded, his leather lace-up shoes well-worn.
“If you’re ready now to head to the country club for lunch,” she said, “I’ll just grab my things.”
“Actually, there's something I wanted to do here first. Research. For a case.”
“Oh?” He was notoriously close-lipped about his cases. Even after they’d been declassified it was more difficult to pry details out of him than to pry a Prada purse from a fashionista.
“I'm looking into the world of exclusive, high-end perfume. I know you own a few scents like that, and I think it would help me if I could smell those perfumes. And if you could tell me what you know about them.”
“Certainly!” She loved it when people asked for her insights. She especially loved it when her sons did so.
She preceded him through the house. “I'll set up a smelling flight for you. Like a tasting flight at a winery, only for the nose.” He followed her into her spa-like master bathroom. She directed him to sit on the upholstered pink stool.
His expression communicated that sitting there insulted his masculinity, but he went ahead and sat there anyway.
Fiona told him about the first perfume, supplying insider tidbits about its history and the names of the celebrities who'd worn it. She sprayed a pump on a tissue and handed it to him.
She'd expected him to toss the tissue right away. Instead, he spent silent time considering it.
“You’re taking this seriously,” she observed. “If you’d like, I can go get some coffee beans for you to sniff in between fragrances to cleanse your palate, so to speak.”
“Sounds good.”
She swept into the kitchen, then sailed back to her bathroom and handed him the container of her best arabica beans.
She spoke about each of the perfumes in turn, finally coming to the last one. “This is the most special of them all.” Picking up the hand-blown glass bottle, she cradled it like a proud dog breeder showing off her prized puppy. “This is Rhapsodie. In my opinion, this is the most magnificent perfume ever created. It's also the most expensive of the perfumes I've lined up here and very difficult to purchase. They make a limited quantity of these each year, a quantity that's far, far below the demand. There’s a wait list a mile long to purchase one. Even with my money and connections, it took me seven years to get a bottle.”
Jude appeared appropriately respectful.
