The two women forge a bond that spans thirty years of friendship, love, and tragedy.
Thebook is availablefrom William Morrow on July 23, 2019.
News Article
YES SHE CANNES!
Credit: Heather Webb; Deasy Photographic
Grace Kelly Attends Her First Film Festival
Angeline West reports for Fashion News America.
It is my first time in France, she admitted.
I cant wait to see the dazzling Mediterranean la grande bleue, as you say!
William Morrow
I hear it is very beautiful.
As is Miss Kelly.
She already has Cannes, and this reporter, firmly enchanted.
Chapter 1
Cannes, France.
May 1955
Sophie
Each scent holds a mystery, its own story.
That was the first lesson Papa taught me.
He would mix the solvent and sniff, mix and sniff, until he was satisfied.
Only then would he soak amouillette,a narrow strip of paper, and hand it to me.
What do you see?
Because that was the real question.
Where the scent took me.
I would inhale and be whisked away in an instant.
A touch of jasmine hinted at carefree days in the sun.
Woodsmoke conjured a cool autumn night and rich cassoulet for supper.
It was the last time I saw him, a silhouette against the sun-soaked horizon.
That was the day Maman took over the books of the family businessand I learned to keep us afloat.
The death notification arrived in the mail the following spring, along with Papas papers and personal effects.
Dirt, earth, fear.
The scent of a life so cruelly lost.
Like all scents, it imprinted itself on my memory, and that was where I kept him now.
An unanswered question of what might have been.
That was my specialty: luxury fragrances.
I blew out a tired breath.
I wished I were in Grasse now.
I played the part of confident socialite quite well, when necessary.
I couldnt bear the thought of disappointing Papa.
Mostly to check on Maman.
A bitter taste flooded my mouth at the thought.
I would have to check in on her, sooner or later.
Id been hoping for the same thing since I was five years old.
Natalie, could you check the shelves, like?
My feet ached from new shoes.
We did well today, Natalie said, brushing a long strand of honey blond hair behind her ear.
Thank goodness for wealthy movie stars.
I still cant believe I met Bernard Blier!
He bought three bottles for the woman on his arm.
I smiled at her enthusiasm.
Natalie Cloutier was old enough to be my mother, but she was an excellent sales woman.
My heroes worked at Guerlain and Chanel and Molinard.
But Natalie took great pride in her work and the shop, and it showed in everything she did.
Beautiful, polished, warm Natalie.
Everything my maman was not.
You always seem to miss the really big names.
I glanced at my wrist watch, hoping it would read six oclock.
We still had a quarter of an hour until closing.
As if on cue, the front door opened, bringing a fresh sea breeze rushing inside.
My circle skirt billowed around my calves and blew a swathe of dark curls across my face.
Le vent, I grumbled, annoyed by the way the wind always twisted my hair into knots.
A tall, slim woman in pink Capri pants and crisp white blouse closed the door behind her.
Large dark sunglasses and a headscarf concealed most of her face.
I noted the womans elegance and soft American accent.
Good afternoon, mademoiselle.
Natalie jumped into action, switching easily into her heavily accented English.
Working in a town that attracted so many tourists meant having a good grasp of the English language.
Papa had been quite firm about this.
May I help you find something in particular?
We have a divine new perfume weve just developed.Printemps a la Riviera.
Spring on the Riviera.
Its very popular with the Americans.
Ill just take a look around first, thank you.
I studied her from behind the desk.
She hadnt removed her sunglasses, and her behaviour was a little odd.
It was almost as if she were hiding from someone.
Her clothes were pristine.
A Hermes handbag hung from her arm.
Her blond hair was tucked neatly beneath a colorful headscarf.
Upon closer inspection, she appeared to be breathing hard.
Mademoiselle, can I help you?
I offered, stepping forward.
She flinched and turned.
Giving me a shy smile, she approached the counter.
A cloud of vanilla and lilac enveloped me.
An oriental perfume with a heavy floral bouquet and vanilla base note.
It didnt quite suit her.
She removed her sunglasses and smiled.
Yes, youcanhelp me, actually.
If you would be so kind.
My reply stuck in my throat.
Id seen it a dozen times on the cover of magazines.
Id seen it on the big screen.
A firm favourite of Madame Marais.
Grace Kelly, I whispered.
Natalie stood dumbstruck, her feather duster poised in mid-air.
Yes, Miss Kelly replied with a slight giggle, casting another nervous glance over her shoulder.
She held out a white-gloved hand.
You were going to help me?
Grace prompted, sweetly.
I cleared my throat.
Yes, of course.
How can I … What can I do for you, Mademoiselle Kelly?
yo, call me Grace.
I noted the sincerity in her voice, and despite my racing pulse, managed a smile.
What can I do for you?
She leaned closer as if to divulge a secret.
Im being followed by a photographer.
I thought Id given him the slip, but he reappeared on the promenade.
I ducked behind a palm tree and raced across the street, and, well, here I am.
It sounds rather like a scene from a movie, doesnt it!
Relief and annoyance warred in her eyes.
I think Ive lost him, but is there another exit from your store?
They can be terribly persistent.
Theres an exit through the back, but its very close to the street.
He might see you.
She looked a little disappointed.
She touched my hand with hers.
Thank you so much.
I only wanted to take a walk through this beautiful town.
Escape the madness of the film festival for a few hours.
I suppose I was silly to hope for such a thing.
Can we perhaps interest you in trying a new perfume today, Mademoiselle Kelly?
Natalie offered, sliding behind the desk with her usual easy charm.
I fished the keys from my handbag and flipped through them to find the right one.
Vanilla was a bold scent.
Generic but comforting, reminding many of home.
But it also covered deep insecurities.
To be aparfumeuris to be a psychologist.
That was the second lesson Papa taught me.
He said that everyone had a view of themselves but wished to be something more.
Our job as parfumeurs was to uncover what that something more was, and make it for them.
At least this time.
I doubted Grace Kelly covered any deeply hidden insecurities.
Why dont you allow me, Sophie?
I know you like to do a quick inventory of the shelves before you leave.
Grace held out her hand to me.
Merci, Sophie, is it?
Her eyes lit up in a smile.
Well, thank you again, Sophie Duval.
I wont forget your kindness.
I hope you might return to our shop under better circumstances, one day.
Id like that very much, she said, her blue eyes twinkling.
As Natalie closed the storage door behind them, the front door opened again.
A rather tall man peered inside as he stood half in and half out of the shop.
I noticed the bag slung over his shoulder and the camera nestled against his chest.
It had to be the photographer chasing Miss Kelly.
We open again tomorrow at nine oclock.
In faltering French he asked if Grace Kelly had come into the shop.
His accent was almost comical.
I pursed my lips.
The worst kind of press hound.
The pale skin, the dishevelled appearance, the swagger.
The inability to leave celebrities alone.
I sniffed in a short breath and replied in English.
Im not in the habit of telling strangers whom I have and havent sold perfumes to, monsieur.
Its bad for business, and frankly, none of yours.
He regarded me a moment through golden brown eyes and burst into laughter.
Well, arent you perfectly French.
I felt heat rising to my face.
How did Miss Kelly put up with such awful people bothering her all the time?
You dont have to tell me what she bought, he pressed.
Just whether or not she came in here.
I raised a quizzical brow at him, incredulous he should have a go at jockey for information.
The names Henderson, by the way, he added, extending a hand.
Not that I suppose it matters.
Seeing my expression and realizing I wasnt going to divulge any information, he shrugged.
I bit my lip to stop myself laughing.
Not that its of any concern to you, but, well, thats how it is.
He held his hands out in front of him.
Help out a useless English chap, would you?
He tilted his head to one side.
I was suddenly very busy straightening the tissue paper and rolls of ribbon beneath the register.
I cant help you, monsieur, I said, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the counter.
If you are so incompetent at your job, I doubt a small perfume boutique can save you.
I glanced up at him.
A wide grin split his face.
Im a ridiculous fool and should be on my way.
Actually, before I go, can I ask what perfume it is youre wearing?
Its really rather lovely.
I looked up to meet his gaze.
And you are rude
A flash went off.
Blinded by the light, my hand flew to my eyes.
What are you doing?
With that, he left, laughing as he closed the door behind him.
That was the third lesson Papa taught me.
To be aparfumeuris to be a keeper of memories, Sophie.
Every scent will remind you of something, or someone.
James Henderson reminded me of Papa.
From the book, Meet Me in Monaco.
Copyright 2019 by Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb.
Reprinted with permission of William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
