by Vi Keeland
“Stella, wait…”
She again halted and looked back.
Before I could stop myself, the craziest shit tumbled out of my mouth. “Have dinner with me.”
CHAPTER 4
Stella
“Have you heard from Prince Charming yet?” Fisher opened my refrigerator and took out a container of yesterday’s dinner, even though it was only 7AM.
I shook my head and tried to hide my disappointment. “It’s probably for the best.”
“What’s it been, like, a week now?”
“Eight days. Not that I’m counting.” I’m totally counting.
He looked me up and down. “Why are you dressed so early?”
“I just got back from watching the sunrise.”
“You know, you can set the background of your laptop to some pretty nice sunrises and sunsets and sleep in.” Fisher popped off the Tupperware lid and forked a full breaded chicken cutlet as if it were a lollipop. He bit off a piece.
“That’s not quite the same, but thanks. Umm…do you want me to heat that up for you? Give you a plate and knife to cut it up? Or better yet, make you some eggs for breakfast?”
“No need.” He shrugged and took another bite. “Why don’t you call him?”
I looked at my best friend blankly. “I can’t call him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he probably changed his mind. Are you forgetting how we met? I’m shocked he even asked for my phone number. I’m thinking he had a temporary lapse in sanity and thought better of it after I left. Besides, I have a date tomorrow, anyway.”
“With who?”
“Ben.”
“The guy you met online? That was a few weeks ago, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. I was supposed to go out with him a few days ago, but I canceled.”
“How come you canceled?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Just had a lot to do.”
Fisher gave me a look. “Nice try. But I ain’t buying it. You were hoping Prince Charming would call and wanted to keep your calendar free.”
“I wasn’t waiting for Hudson to call.”
“Have you checked your phone for missed messages more than once this week?”
“No,” I said—waaay too quickly and sounding completely defensive.
I totally had, a few times a day, actually. But I knew how Fisher operated. He was relentless. It’s what made him such a good lawyer. If he found one little string hanging, he would keep pulling and pulling until the entire sweater unraveled. So I wasn’t about to hand him that thread on a silver platter.
He studied me. “I think you’re full of shit.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You know, you can go out with more than one person at a time…”
Luckily, our conversation was interrupted by my landline ringing, my business phone.
“I wonder who’s calling Signature Scent on a Saturday. I guess it could be a vendor in Singapore. It’s still Friday there, right?”
Fisher chuckled. “Wrong way. It’s Sunday there.”
“Oh.”
I found the phone in the living room, where it sat on top of a box of samples. I cradled the receiver on my shoulder as I picked up the box, too. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Stella Bardot?”
Returning to the kitchen, I opened the box and took out one of the small glass jars packed inside. “It is. Who’s this?”
“My name is Olivia Royce.”
The jar slipped from my hand. It hit the kitchen tile with a loud clank, but luckily, it didn’t break. I fumbled to grab the phone from where it was balanced on my shoulder. “Did you say Olivia Royce?”
“I did. I hope you don’t mind me calling. I couldn’t find a website, but when I Googled the name of your company, this number came up, so I took a chance.”
“Umm… No, not at all. Of course not.”
“I received your note and gift. When I mentioned what you’d sent me to my brother, he told me you were starting a new fragrance company that made custom scents. I would love to order some perfumes for my bridal party, but I couldn’t find you online.”
“Uhh…the website isn’t up yet.”
“Darn. Can I possibly order them directly from you, then?”
“Sure. Of course.”
“Eeep! That’s great. I’ve been struggling to figure out what to get each of the girls. I want something personalized and special. This is so perfect. I absolutely love mine, by the way. Thank you for doing that.”
I couldn’t get over this conversation. Olivia was calling me to place an order, not ream me out for crashing her wedding? Was it possible she didn’t realize I was the same person? I didn’t think so, since I’d mailed her gift and an apology note in the same box, and she’d obviously had a conversation with Hudson about me.
“Thank you. I, uh, I can send them some kits and make their orders a priority once they tell me what they like.”
“Oh no. I want it to be a surprise. I know a lot about them—maybe I could just tell you what they normally wear and a little bit about them and you could come up with something?”
I wasn’t sure that would be as effective as the way I normally did it, but there was no way in hell I could say no to her. “Sure, that sounds good.”
“How’s Monday at twelve thirty?”
My forehead wrinkled. “Umm… Twelve thirty is fine.”
“Okay. Would Café Luce on Fifty-Third work? Is that too far for you? Do you live here in the City?”
My eyes bulged. She wanted to meet in person? I’d assumed she meant she was going to pencil me into her calendar for an email or a call.
“Yes, I live in the City. And Café Luce sounds good.”
“Perfect! It’s a date. Thanks, Stella! I can’t wait to meet you.”
Ten seconds later, the line was dead. I stared at my phone. Fisher had been watching the entire conversation play out on my face.
“Who was that?” he said.
“Olivia Royce.”
“And she is?”
“The bride whose wedding we crashed.”
***
The next day, I arrived twenty minutes early at the coffee shop. Ben had wanted to pick me up for our date, but I preferred to meet people I didn’t know well in public so I was always in full control of when I could leave. I bought a decaf latte and took a seat on a couch off to the side of the counter. My local coffeehouse always had newspapers and magazines for people to browse while they drank their overpriced coffees, so I picked up The New York Times and started to flip through the Sunday Style section. Halfway through, I froze when I saw a photo. After blinking a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining things, I lifted the paper closer to read the announcement.
Olivia Paisley Rothschild and Mason Brighton Royce were married on July 13th at the New York Public Library in Manhattan. The Rev. Arthur Finch, an Episcopal priest, officiated.
Mrs. Royce, 28, whom the groom calls Livi, is a vice president of marketing. She graduated from the University of Pennsylvania and received an MBA from Columbia.
She is the daughter of Charlotte Bianchi Rothschild and Cooper E. Rothschild, both deceased, from New York City. The wedding was hosted by her brother, Hudson Rothschild.
Mr. Royce, also 28, founded his own IT firm and specializes in security and compliance. He graduated from the University of Boston and received an MS in Information Technology from NYU.
I couldn’t believe I’d stumbled on their wedding announcement. What were the chances? I hadn’t read the Sunday New York Times in years, so it felt like a freaky coincidence. Fisher always said if you put positive thoughts out there, positive things would come back to you. That might explain this. I’d certainly done enough thinking over the last week and a half about a certain man who had asked for my number, but then never called.
Earlier this week, I’d been flipping through the channels and happened to pass Dancing with the Stars. Even though I never watched it, for some reason
I kept it on. When the couples slow danced, I reminisced about how it had felt to be in Hudson’s arms at his sister’s wedding. That had led to me remembering how much rhythm he’d had, which in turn made my mind wander to other things his good rhythm might be helpful with. Then, on Friday night when Fisher came over after work, he’d brought me a bottle of Hendricks gin. It reminded me of the way my arms had broken out in goose bumps when Hudson whispered in my ear, “The night’s young, Evelyn. Dance with me.”
I’d never in a million years expected him to ask me out when I showed up with my tail between my legs at his office to pick up my phone. But once he did, I’d let my imagination run away with itself. I’d even put off my second date with Ben. But after spending more than a week waiting for my phone to ring, I finally realized it was dumb to avoid a perfectly nice guy—one who had called multiple times—just because another guy might possibly dial my number.
Ben walked in a few minutes before the time we were supposed to meet. I took one last glance at the wedding photo in the newspaper before closing it. I was determined to not ruin my date by letting thoughts of another man sneak in.
“Hey.” Ben kissed me on the lips.
It was only our second kiss, since our first had been at the end of our last date, but it was nice enough. There was no tingle, and goose bumps didn’t run down my arms or anything, but we were in the middle of a coffee shop, so what did I expect? When Ben pulled back, he handed me a box of Godiva chocolate I hadn’t noticed in his hand. “I was going to get you flowers, but I figured you’d have to carry them with you all night. This you can probably toss in your purse.”
I smiled. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much.”
“I made a reservation at a steak house. After, if you’re up for it, there’s a comedy club next door with an open-mic night tonight.”
“That sounds great.”
“You ready to go?”
“Yup.”
I picked up my empty coffee cup and tossed it in the garbage on the way out. When I reached for the door handle, Ben beat me to it. “Please, let me.”
“Thank you.”
Outside I looked left and then right. “Which way are we heading?”
“The restaurant is a few blocks from here. It’s on Hudson.”
“Hudson Street?”
“Yeah, is that too far to walk in heels? I can grab us an Uber.”
“No, no. That’s fine.” But seriously…Hudson Street?
We started to walk. “I haven’t tried the place yet,” Ben said. “But it has incredible reviews, so I hope it’s good.”
“What’s it called?”
“Hudson’s.”
I had to stifle my laugh. Hudson’s on Hudson Street? So much for not letting thoughts of someone else creep in tonight…
CHAPTER 5
Stella
I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes late on Monday, even though I had left my apartment super early. The uptown local train I’d taken had decided to become an express and skipped my stop.
When I entered, Olivia was already seated at a table. She looked so different out of her wedding garb that I almost didn’t recognize her. But she waved and smiled like we were old friends.
I had this wild notion stuck in my head that she didn’t really want to order any perfume, but was luring me here so she could give me a piece of her mind in person—or worse yet, have me arrested. Her inviting smile did a lot to diffuse my paranoia.
“Hi.” I set the box in my arms down on an empty seat and pulled out the chair across from her. “I’m sorry I’m late. My train skipped the stop.”
“No problem.” She reached out and tilted the breadbasket in my direction, showing me it was empty. “As you can see, I kept myself busy. I hadn’t eaten a carb for six months before my wedding. So I’ve spent the last few weeks making up for lost time.” Setting the basket down, she held her hand out to me. “I’m Olivia Rothschild, by the way. Damn it, no, I’m not. I’m Olivia Royce now. I still can’t get used to that.”
I smiled, though I was a nervous wreck. “Stella Bardot.” Figuring the best thing to do was clear the air, I took a deep breath. “Listen, Olivia, I’m so sorry about what I did. I’m usually not the type of person to crash a wedding.”
She tilted her head. “You’re not? That’s a shame. I thought we were going to get along so well. I crashed a prom once.”
My eyes widened. “You did?”
Olivia chuckled. “Yup. And I made out with some girl’s date and came home with a fat lip.”
My shoulders loosened. “Oh my God. You have no idea how relieved I am to know you’re not mad.”
She waved me off. “Nah. Don’t give it another thought. I was pretty impressed with the story you told. Did someone really pee their pants for you?”
I smiled sadly. The memory of the truth was bittersweet now, considering my sister and I no longer spoke. “Actually, it was me who did that, and it was in preschool. My sister is a year younger and had an accident during practice for the Christmas pageant. A boy pointed at her wet backside and made fun of her. I couldn’t let her stand there alone.”
“Nice. My brother’s older. He’s always been ridiculously protective of me. But I’m not sure he would have gone as far as peeing his pants to save my face.” She sipped her drink. “On second thought, he probably would. He would just never admit he’d done it to protect me. He’d say he pissed his pants and I copied him, probably.”
We laughed.
“Hudson filled me in on how you came to be at the wedding. I wasn’t surprised when he told me what Evelyn did to you—taking off in the middle of the night and sticking you with the unpaid rent. She’s always been unreliable. First year of college, we went on spring break together. She met some guy who was ten years older than us and only spoke French. Two days into the trip, I woke up to a note saying she’d left for France to meet the guy’s family because she was in love. She left me in Cancun all by myself. The bitch took my favorite pair of shoes with her.”
“Oh my God. She took my favorite shoes when she moved out, too!”
We laughed again, and Olivia continued. “She also stole something from Lexi, my brother’s ex-wife. The two of them had a falling out and stopped speaking. Then I talked my hard-ass brother into giving her a job, and after a few months, she stopped showing up. He’s never going to let me live that one down. The man can hold a grudge forever.”
“Hudson definitely doesn’t seem as forgiving as you do.”
“That’s putting it mildly. He’s super overprotective. When I was sixteen and had my first boyfriend, Hudson used to sit outside on the steps and wait for me to come home at night. Of course, that meant I got a peck on the cheek instead of a nice goodnight make-out session. I feel bad for Charlie. She probably won’t be allowed to date until she’s forty.”
“Charlie?”
“Hudson’s daughter.”
I nodded. I have no idea why, but I didn’t expect him to have a child. Though of course, I didn’t know much about the man other than he was handsome, smelled divine, knew how to dance, and hadn’t called in the ten days since I’d given him my phone number.
“How old is his daughter?”
“Six going on sixteen.” She laughed. “He’s so screwed.”
The waiter came over to take our order, and I hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. Olivia ordered a pear balsamic salad with chicken. That sounded good, so I did the same.
“So…” She sniffed her wrist. “Tell me how you managed to make me the best perfume I’ve ever smelled in my life. I’m completely obsessed with it.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I took my clues from your wedding. You had gardenias as your centerpieces and in your bouquet, so I used that as my starting point. I overheard one of the women at the table where I was sitting say you were going to Bora Bora on your honeymoon. So I guessed you must like the beach and added some calone, which gives it that hint of sea breeze. And then your dress was traditional,
but with a bright red silk belt, so I thought you might have a bit of an edge to you.”
“That’s amazing. Even the bottle was perfect.”
“That design was one I fell in love with, but we won’t actually be selling. It’s imported from Italy, and I couldn’t make it work with my shoestring of a start-up budget.”
“That’s a shame. It’s so pretty.”
“I’m hoping down the road I might be able to add it.”
For the next hour, I explained how Signature Scent worked. I gave Olivia the full demo—she sniffed all twenty of the little samplers and rated them, and then I asked her all of the questions that would eventually be up on the website as part of the ordering process. She asked a ton of questions, seeming very interested in the business side of things. I wrote notes on each of her bridal party members, and she picked out the bottles for each of them.
“So when does Signature Scent officially launch?” she asked as we finished up.
I frowned. “I’m not sure.”
“How come? It seems like you have everything all ready to go.”
“I do—planning wise, anyway. But I ran into some financing issues. It’s a long story, but I had a partner and needed to buy him out. I’d used a good chunk of the business funds we had to purchase inventory, so buying him out drained every penny of what I had left. Though it was fine, because I had a business line of credit large enough that I’d still be able to launch. I’d applied for the loan almost a year earlier, just in case I ran short. But when I went to draw on it the first time, the bank told me I needed to do an annual update to keep the line of credit open. I hadn’t been aware of that. I’d just left my job at Estée Lauder, and when I wrote down that I’d had a change in employment, they yanked my line of credit. If I’d done it a few days earlier, I wouldn’t have had to write that, and I would have been fine.”
“Oh, that sucks.”
I nodded. “It does. And no bank wants to lend to someone who’s unemployed. I applied with the SBA. They’re pretty much my last hope.”