Page 48 of The Scent of Happiness

Theo flipped to the first blank page and scribbled notes as fast as he could. “What are those words you’re saying? It sounds like an incantation.”

“They’re commercial fragrance blends. Just write. I’ll know.” Brooke poured and sniffed, put her nose in her elbow and sniffed again. No wonder her journal was a mess. She was pure inspiration. She was in her own world now, and if he wanted to join her there, he needed to pay attention.

She shook her head. “Fruit. Floral. It’s all top notes.”

“Is that bad?”

“Uh huh. It’s going to float away. I need something that will invite itself in and stick around.” She used her phone to change the music. Still classical, but with harder edges. Beethoven, maybe? He didn’t know.

Brooke paced in front of her scent cupboard. “Too much rosemary in that one. That one’s all sharpness. Eucalyptus, no. Clove, no.”

Theo scanned the shelves, looking for something that sounded like it had depth but wouldn’t jump out at you. Chocolate? No. Ocean? Definitely not. One end of the cabinet held bottles with names like Figgy Day and Fox Forest. He opened the fig one and tried it. It had a stickiness to it, like it could anchor the other scents and hold them in place. “How about this?”

“Yes. No. Too sweet. I’m going to need bass notes. I want something musky without feeling like an animal. Spicy without feeling medicinal.” She took down another bottle, muttering something about sage and patchouli.

She added drops from three more bottles, gave it a quick stir and a sniff, backed away from the cup to reset her nose, then sampled it again. “That’s it.”

Theo held the pen over the journal page. “What did you put in? How much?”

“Don’t know. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Stop writing and try this.”

Theo held her gaze as he came toward her. He bent over the scent she’d made and inhaled slowly, taking it deep within him.

Time stopped for a moment and then started again with a whoosh.

She’d recreated their afternoon at the botanical gardens. The flowers. The warmth. The green growing things. And there were other things in that cup. Brooke’s laughter was there. His memories too. Cookies and snow days and one beautiful girl on a flight of stairs.

Longing. Excitement. Lust. How did she do this? How did she capture a moment in time and put it into liquid form? He straightened. “That does not smell like soap.”

“What does it smell like?”

“It’s…I don’t…” There were no words for this. Maybe Brooke had some, but he did not. All he had was appreciation.

“That good, huh?” Brooke asked with a slow grin.

Theo had seen that sly, one-sided smile in court. The legal team wore that smile when the case took a turn and the jury became fully invested. At that moment, the attorneys knew they would win, no matter how many days the trial had to go. Brooke wore a smile that said she had him and she knew she had him. He was all in.

She waved a hand toward the jars and bags of pigments. “What color should it be? I’m thinking—”

“Yellow,” they said at the same time.

“Yes,” Brooke said. “It’s warm, it’s happy.”

“It’s summer.” Theo’s words tumbled over and around hers. “It’s sun. It’s—”

“Yellow,” they chorused again.

“I know which one.” Brooke took a small jar off the shelf and showed him the powder inside. “It’s mica, so the color will stay true.”

It was the exact shade of yellow he’d been thinking of. Pencils, sunflowers, the wings of a chickadee, the rainboots he’d had as a kid. If that fragrance had a color, this was it.

“Now we can make soap.” She handed him a stick blender, the kind that people used to make sauces and soups. “Back in the day, people mixed soap by hand. Today, we use this. You can start it in the oils while I pour in the lye water.”

Theo turned on the blender. The dark oils turned creamy. “How long do I do this?”

“No set time.” Brooke capped the empty lye container and put it in the sink. “You wait for trace. That’s good.”

The mixture was emulsified, but still thin. “That’s trace?”