Page 13 of The Scent of Happiness

But it wasn’t what Brooke was wearing that made her so attractive. She’d be attractive in anything. There was something intriguing about her. What was behind those glasses? What would make her take her hair down, and what would she look like when she did?

“What are you doing?” His mentor, Stephen Lin, stood in the doorway.

Theo pulled the Citrus Ginger soap away from his nose. He dropped it on the desk. “I didn’t know anyone was still here.”

“I’ve got to set a good example for you.” Stephen came in uninvited and sat in the guest chair. This late on a Friday, his tie was loose, his jacket gone, and he slouched in a way he’d never let a client see.

“I saw your girlfriend leave,” Stephen said. “She seemed mad.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Theo said. “Not even my friend, apparently.”

“Who is she?”

“Someone I went to school with. Our parents know each other. She came in for a consult, but I’m not the best person for this.”

“Too much work?” Stephen asked.

“Hard work doesn’t bother me.”

“Does she bother you?”

Yes, but not like that. Theo squeezed and opened fists under the desk. “She wants to fight a case that should be settled.”

“You made the right call,” Stephen said. “That’s not a headache you need.”

“Tell me about it. She’s the kind of girl who’s used to getting her way.”

“So why the gift?”

“It’s not a gift,” Theo said. “She makes soap. Can you imagine?”

“She made these?” Stephen picked up the blue soap. “Impressive. What is that, lilac?”

“How should I know?” Theo snapped. Stephen was the one with three daughters. He understood things like dolls and hair ribbons and fancy bath products.

Stephen leaned back in his chair and pulled his ever-present cigarette pack out of his shirt pocket. He tapped one into his hand. He knew he couldn’t smoke indoors, but he seemed to enjoy holding cigarettes as much as smoking them.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” Theo said.

“Want to bet?”

“Not a bet I’d enjoy winning.” It was their running joke. “You’re still cutting back, right?”

Stephen rubbed his nose. “My middle daughter made me a behavior chart, like the ones they use at her school. She thinks it will keep me on track.”

“Does it?”

“I’m down to three a day, and I only smoke them at work.” Stephen held up his cigarette. “This is going to be my last one for the week.”

“You don’t crave them on weekends?” Theo asked. How could that be?

Stephen used his cigarette as a pointer, aiming it at Theo. “When I started working here, I was assigned a mentor of my own. Jack Wu, God rest his soul. He was a heavy smoker, took five or six breaks a day to smoke out in the parking lot. It was the best place to talk to him. He didn’t have anything to do out there but smoke and give me advice. I’d smoke silently beside him, taking in wisdom with a hit of nicotine.”

“Got it,” Theo said. He had rituals of his own that helped him think things through, although his weren’t deadly.

Stephen patted the pack in his shirt pocket. “Even now, when I can’t come up with a persuasive argument or I’m wrestling with a legal point, I pace around outside and smoke it out. It feels like Jack is telling me what to do. The behavior chart is great and all, but I’m still going to need these.”

“You never asked me to smoke with you,” Theo said.