The Secret Ways of Perfume Read Online Free Page B

They’d been friends from that moment.
    Monique had taken her home, and Jasmine, her Egyptian mother, had scolded them, dried them off and then, over a cup of ginger tea and a plate of cookies, warned them of all the dangers lurking in the streams. At Monique’s house, Elena discovered what it meant to have a real family. Her new friend had introduced her to the maternalwarmth and serenity that Jasmine had in abundance. Monie made her feel like one of the family, like a sister.
    â€œSo, will you help me?”
    â€œSeriously, I don’t know what use I can be to you. You know every step in creating a perfume and you’ve produced some extraordinary things.”
    Monique made a face. “Come on, Elena. We both know my perfumes are simple, convenient and popular. Even the best one was hardly subtle. But you, you’re like an artist who paints a picture with words. I don’t know anyone with your skills or your genius.”
    â€œYeah, right! A genius who couldn’t even cover her costs.”
    â€œDon’t give me that old chestnut about your grandmother’s business,” Monique cut in. “You closed the perfumery because you’re the most stubborn person I know. As far as the business goes, if you’d followed your instincts instead of sticking to Lucia’s antiquated rules, things would have gone quite differently, and you know it. We’ve already talked about this. I just don’t understand how you could take Matteo’s ravings into account. The most
he
had to teach you was how to lay a table.” She snorted.
    â€œYou never made any decisions about running the shop,” she went on. “You just let things happen. I’m sorry, but you know I like to tell it how it is, Elena. You’re a nose, that’s all there is to it. And the perfumes you made for me and my mother were truly unique. They still are. And that’s what people want: a special perfume.”
    â€œYou know as much as I do,” Elena insisted. “We did the same studies, we’ve got the same training.” She moved over to a metal shelf where a series of different-sized vials were lined up. The glass seemed to come to life as the cold light skimmed over the sharp edges.
    â€œMaybe, but I wasn’t brought up in an apothecary’s workshop. Nor am I descended from generations of perfume-makers. That makes all the difference in the world.”
    Yes, that was the difference between them. Monique had had a normal childhood: parents, a brother, two sisters, school, home, university, boyfriends and, in the end, a job she liked. She’d been able to choose.
    So had Elena, in a way. And she’d chosen the easy route: obedience. She’d done everything her grandmother had asked of her, or as much as she could bear. She’d studied perfumery and applied herself conscientiously. Silently, however, she’d begun to harbor resentment toward perfume. And she’d ended up cultivating that resentment until she blamed it for all her problems.
    â€œDo you know what my grandmother’s last words were?” Elena asked. She waited a moment, then, spurred on by her friend’s silence, she quoted: “‘
Follow the way, do not abandon the perfume.
’”
    â€œLucia wasn’t well at the end,” Monique replied.
    Elena’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “Her body might have given up, but her mind was there until the end. Don’t think for a minute that she did or said anything that wasn’t part of her plans. It was an obsession for her—the same as it was for all the women before her, even my mother. They always put perfume before anything else.” She reached for her friend’s hand and squeezed it. “I closed the shop because I wanted a normal life, regular hours, a man to love who loved me back, and children.”
    â€œThose things aren’t mutually exclusive. You could have been a perfumier and had