15
Olli helped Charity put the last candle into the final box. “Done,” she said, passing it to her friend and employee, who taped it and peeled off the address label. “Thank you, Charity. You’ve worked so much this week.”
“It’s fine,” the younger woman drawled. “School’s out for the summer.” She smiled prettily at Olli. “You don’t need me until next week?”
“That’s right,” Olli said, looking around the perfumery. “Spur’s coming to help me clean tonight. Tomorrow, Frank Renlund will be here, and whatever will be, will be.” She sighed, her hopes so high she was sure they’d be shot down at least a little bit.
She’d seen Spur every night this week except for last night. He’d called a brothers-only dinner at the ranch, and he’d texted afterward that he was too tired to come sit on her back porch and look at the stars.
She hadn’t heard from him today at all, and Olli’s insecurities and doubts wailed at her that he was still faking it with her. He sure was good at it if he was, and Olli reassured herself with the memories of his kisses whenever she started to slide into the self-doubt.
“How long have you and Spur been together?” Charity asked.
“Just a couple of weeks,” Olli said, her pulse jumping around inside her chest.
Charity nodded. “He’s cute.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Olli said with a smile. “He’s far too old to be cute.” She picked up the empty sheet of labels and tossed it in the garbage can. “I’ll get you an extra check for this week.”
“Thanks, Olli.” Charity grinned and picked up her purse. “I’m gonna go see if I can find me a cowboy as cute as Spur.” She giggled, and Olli joined in. She had no idea where Charity would go to do that, but she wasn’t twenty-two years old either.
“Be safe,” she said to the girl as she left.
Olli then faced her perfumery, the enormity of the task in front of her threatening to crush her before she could begin. She pressed back against the exhaustion and the mess and told herself to start with just one thing.
The perfumery had four stations, two of which Olli worked at during the day as she created scents from the things she grew and-or combined those created scents together to make different perfumes or candles.
The third long row of stainless steel tables could really be divided in half. On the far end, she made perfumes; at the end closest to the door, she poured hand-melted wax for her candles. She made every candle and every bottle of perfume that left the shop.
The last station where she and Charity had been working was the packaging station, and it would be the easiest to clean up. She left it for Spur, and she moved to the scent table. Bins of flowers and fruits sat on the lower shelves, and Olli made sure they were all lidded properly. She picked up an empty plastic bin and started loading the remnants of her latest scent creation into it. Vials, tongs, leftover bits of wood, and paper towels. She made trip after trip to the garbage can, cleaning up the two stations where she spent most of her time.
She loved watching wax drip from a funnel too, but there was nothing like taking something she’d grown and distilling it down to its very essence. She inhaled deeply, trying to decide what her perfumery smelled like. These walls had experienced so many scents, and Olli liked to think just one particle of everything she’d ever done was trapped inside as a keepsake.
The door opened, and Spur walked in. Olli smiled at him, and he barely returned it. Nerves scattered through her body. “Hey,” she said. “How was your day?”
“A day,” he said, looking around. “Where do you want me?”
“I left the packaging station for you,” she said. “It should be the easiest to organize. Anything that looks like trash, probably is. Boxes can be laid flat on the bottom shelves. I’ve got polish in here somewhere, and I’m going to start over here.”
He nodded, and he seemed so tight tonight. She knew he had a lot going on in his family right now, and she told herself his mood had nothing to do with her. He hadn’t given her all the details about what was happening next door, but she knew enough to know he was stressed about it.
She pulled on a pair of black gloves to protect her hands from the polish and got to work. She hated the smell of the silver polish, because someone had thought it was a good idea to try to mask the metallic stink of it with oranges. All that did was produce two scents that had no business being together.
Olli scrubbed and wiped, growing sweaty with the workout it took to clean up months’ worth of work. “I’m never going to let it get this bad again,” she said, expecting Spur to respond.
He didn’t, and Olli glanced over to the packaging station. He’d cleared it already, and he was wiping it down with an antibacterial wipe. She left the first station, which she’d just finished and joined him. “Wow,” she said. “You’re efficient.”
He barely looked at her, and Olli felt like the ground beneath her feet might disappear. “Is everything okay?”
“Just fine,” he said, moving away from her. He definitely wasn’t fine. In the past, he’d never just come in and said nothing. He always kissed her hello, and he always had something to tell her from that day.
“You’re the one who said it didn’t matter what anyone thought of our relationship,” she said. “As long as we were honest with each other.”
“Yep.”
“You’re not being honest with me.”
Spur froze, only his eyes lifting to hers. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”