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I’ve been on Dumaine Street quite a few times since moving here. How did I miss their store?
A few minutes later, it became clear why. It was very small, the front only as wide as one window. The sign with the name was rusty and hard to read.
From the window, I could see that there were quite a few shoppers inside. And sure enough, Celine and Isabeau were milling around, helping their customers. The store seemed very long and narrow, extending all the way to the back of the building.
A bell rang as I opened the door, and Isabeau snapped her head in my direction. "Welcome, child."
"We'll finish up with these customers," Celine said, "and then we'll be right with you."
"Take your time. I’ll look around."
Both women were wearing their hair up again. Isabeau also wore black eyeliner, and it fit her perfectly. Celine seemed to prefer a natural look.
The place was fascinating. The air was full of fragrances, but it was hard for me to distinguish one from another. My chef's nose was excellent when it came to spices but not perfumes. The walls on both sides were filled from floor to ceiling with shelvescontaining glass jars in all shapes and sizes. Most were small, but there were quite a few larger ones with lids. I wondered what they contained.
There were dried flowers in between and, to my fascination, crystals in all colors. The labels on the jars were gorgeous. At first I thought they’d used a cursive font, but each label was different. The place simply exuded calmness and tranquility.
There were also lotions at the back of the store. They, too, were in small glass jars. I immediately noticed Bella’s favorite jasmine hand cream. There were many others, such as rose body butter and lilac oil. On the back of each jar was a list of ingredients as well as its alleged properties. There was a tester for everything, so I shamelessly opened a bunch of them, sticking my nose in to smell the fragrances. I wanted to spend my first paycheck on the entire contents of this store.
Since I spent so much time surrounded by kitchen smells, I typically chose creams that didn't have any fragrance at all, but these were different. They didn't send my senses into overdrive. Instead, they had a calming effect.
Their store sold scented candles too. I could spend hours here and start from the beginning and smell everything I hadn’t tried yet.
The bell jingled again, and all of the customers filtered out.
"Oh, they were a group," I observed.
Celine and Isabeau both came to me. "Yes, we have lots of those. Some tourist info stands spread the word about us. But today we’re extra busy because we’re going to be closed next week. We’re taking Bella to Disney." They both brimmed with pride, as they should.
"We're so glad you came," Isabeau said as she arranged my hair on my shoulders.
It was such a motherly gesture, and it completely caught me off guard. I wasn't used to this. Not because my mom wasn'tloving. She was one of the most loving people I knew, but her life had always been hectic, rushing from one job to the other. She never had time to stop and do those small things mothers did.
"Did you have fun yesterday?" This came from Celine, who had followed my gaze and was now looking at the candles.
"Yes. I was out and about in the city, and it was amazing." I clamped my mouth shut before I gave them too many details.
They exchanged a glance. Isabeau kept looking at my smile. Oh man, it was taking over my face. Could they tell that Chad and I had been up to no good?
"Would you like a custom fragrance?” Isabeau asked.
"I'd love that."
"It's what most people come in for."
"This place is completely incredible. The smells, the jars, and the crystals. What do the crystals do exactly?"
"They balance the energies," Isabeau explained. "Come with us behind the counter."
"Truly," Celine said in a slight voice, "I think it might be easier if she's in front of it. We can take a better look at her."
Isabeau nodded. "You’re right. Scarlett, you can sit on one of the small chairs here."
The counter was cleverly built so you could slide your legs under it.
"What kind of perfume do you usually wear?" Isabeau asked me.
"None," I admitted. "I’m afraid it’ll mess up my sense of smell in the kitchen."
