but Dacia had gone through… even more. She was managing well enough – as well as could be expected – but the last time I’d seen her in person, it was so evident in her eyes.
Now, her pretty brown eyes were clear and happy, and she’d let go of the baggy clothes and simple slicked-back ponytail she’d been using as armor. No wonder I hadn’t recognized her. She was, now, as I remembered her from the Garden, when she’d been utilized to teach the petals their hair and makeup.
Face done, curls big and free, a cute outfit.
Her natural setpoint.
“Well, come in,” I insisted, balancing my cup in the bend of my arm so I could unlock the door.
She squealed when she stepped in, looking around as I tended to the alarm. “So you were really not messing around when you said you were doing this, huh?”
“I was really not.”
I grinned as she picked up one of the candles, taking the top off to bring it to her nose. “Oooh, this smells good,” she gushed, turning it to look at the label. “Brown Sugar Cinnamon Latte,” she read, then looked at me. “Is that what’s in the cup?”
“Yup. Today at least,” I amended, laughing. “I’ve been discovering new favorites on a weekly basis, so I’ve done scents to match several.”
“Is that gonna be your thing? All coffeehouse scents?”
“Nah.” I picked up a different one, handing it to her. “My thing is gonna be… stuff I love.”
She lifted an eyebrow at me as she inhaled the one I’d given her, then looked to see the label – it didn’t have one. “Temp, this… smells like a man. So you’re in love now?”
“With him? No. I mean… I don’t know. It’s way too soon to know something like that,” I stammered. “But I definitely love the way he smells. That’s without question.”
I took the candle from her to breathe it in again, pleased that I’d been able to capture that pleasing signature cedar and citrus Tristan seemed to carry with him.
“Why doesn’t it have a label?” Dacia asked, and I shrugged.
“I haven’t come up with the name for it yet.”
She smirked. “Just call it… Tristan,” she teased, putting this breathy gasp of air with it that made me laugh. “Seriously – I want to meet his ass.”
“I think I can make that happen. We can—”
“Knock-knock!”
I heard, at the same time as the bell over the door sounded, signaling that someone had come in. We looked up to see Carlos from next door standing there, hands propped on his hips.
“Ms. Ma’am, I know you’re not gonna not introduce me to your lil’ friend. I was sitting right outside, and you were too busy embracing like reunited lovers to even see me on the balcony, but I was there.” He lifted his head, eyes narrowed. “Are you reunited lovers?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “We’re not.”
“Ugh. Boring,” he declared, waving me off as he sauntered up to where we stood. “I’m Carlos, beautiful,” he said, offering his hand. “And you are?”
“Dacia Pelletier,” she answered, accepting his hand. “Temp’s friend.”
Carlos’ eyes went wide. “Did you say Pelletier?”
“Yes…”
“As in… Adam Pelletier?”
Instantly, Dacia tensed. “Yes.”
“Oh honey. Come with me,” he said, grabbing her by the hand before either of us could really react to it.
I sprang forward, ready to intervene, but Dacia didn’t snatch away. I didn’t know if she was too stunned or what, but I restrained myself, simply following as Carlos pulled her out of my storefront to take her next door, into Keem’s showroom where he was working with a customer.
Keem looked up, surprised, but went back to his client while Carlos led us to a rack of fur coats. “I’ve got Adam Pelletier’s kinfolk here with the vintage Pelletier furs – I gotta get a pic-flick-flick of this, where is my phone?”
“There are Pelletier furs?” Dacia asked, eyes wide as she reached out to skim the luxury pieces with her hands.
“Like these are pieces your dad made? From his brand?” I asked, and Dacia nodded, a big smile spreading over her face.
“It’s been really hard to find any of the original animal fur pieces. I mean, even the faux fur ones with this label are scarce, but these minks… these are rare. Real treasures.”
“And they’re yours, my dear,” Keem declared in his deep baritone as he walked up. Apparently, he’d sent his client off, and was ready to join the conversation. “Carlos says you’re a relative?”
“I’m his daughter. One of his daughters,” she corrected, obviously