Scent of the Past

By Erin Marie Bernardo

A secret diary. A forgotten past. Another time. Close cousins Addison and Elissa live in present day New York City and lead somewhat ordinary lives. When uncertain circumstances surrounding a set of antique perfume bottles sends them back to eighteenth-century France, they must uncover the truth behind their travel. Disaster strikes when Addison finds herself in a nearly identical situation to a mishap she experienced in the present—the witnessing of a murder and release of a secret. Only this time the truth could destroy the entire French monarchy. With Addison’s head on the line, the young women search for answers before Addison suffers her unlucky fate twice. It is only when they discover the haunting connections to life in the present, that they understand why they both were sent, and why a repeating past...may not always be such a bad thing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781543906981

Book preview

fool.

1

New York City, present day

Elissa Morgan looked at her watch. It didn’t surprise her that Addison wasn’t there yet, but she wasn’t worried. She would show up shortly, exasperated and out of breath with a flushed face and hair untamed from the heat. She’d cause a commotion with her flurry of hugs and kisses while dramatically apologizing for her tardiness, then grab the first waiter she saw and ask for a martini. She was always showing up late and making grand entrances. It was just her way.

Elissa could remember one summer when they were little how both their mothers had signed them up for one week of acting camp. It was a day program with a performance at the end for the parents. The play was about the wilds of Africa, and each child performed the role of an animal. Elissa was suited up as a baby elephant, and because Addison was lean and graceful, the directors cast her as a gazelle. She was supposed to come out during the plains of Africa scene and leap and dance around, corralling the other grass eaters, but she was too busy socializing on the playground. At some point she must have realized that she was late, because she bounded in from stage left knocking over two lions and a wildcat during the carnivores’ dance. Noticing a hushed audience and all eyes on her, she threw herself down as prey and rolled around, acting as if she were being eaten. The crowd loved it, and she received two standing ovations.

In high school at their senior prom Addison was spending more time out back smoking with the boys than dancing. Elissa had to go find her when they announced her name for prom queen. Every bit the belle of the ball, Addison ran into the gym, crying and tripping over the hem of her dress, mouthing thank you to the crowd. She started shaking people’s hands like she was a movie star, beaming in the spotlight. The principal had to push her toward the stage or else she never would have been crowned. Drama could have been Addison’s middle name if her mother hadn’t already christened her a Marie.

Most people thought Addison Hart was over the top, and she was, but she was the closest thing to a sister Elissa ever had. Their mothers were twins and best friends, so it was normal for the identical sisters to double date, marry around the same time, and get pregnant within months of each other. Addison and Elissa were born four months apart, Addison being the older, and saw each other every day, since their mothers hardly ever separated. The cousins were practically raised together. Their mothers were in every way identical in looks, but Addison and Elissa were complete opposites.

Elissa was soft, refined, and petite with hair that shimmered like spun gold. She never did anything with it, just kept it clean and loose around her shoulders. It sat in gentle waves that highlighted her heart-shaped face, making men notice her for her natural beauty. She wasn’t big into makeup but did freshen up in the mornings with some mascara and sheer lip gloss.

Addison, however, was an exotic goddess. Olive skin and raven hair drove boys crazy, and large green eyes and thick lashes made fellow females jealous. Her perfectly curved body moved with a sensual swagger and, combined with her dramatic nature, made for a very overpowering force. People were drawn to Addison by her striking good looks and spit-fire personality. And although other women were often intimidated and envious, they had to admit she was fun—constantly laughing and entertaining those around her. That is, until she stole their men, a somewhat common occurrence. She was always telling Elissa to lighten up, and threatening to drag her out and show her a good time. Both girls were always told they were clones of their fathers, for neither of them had the duplicity of their mothers.

Elissa wiped the water sweat off her iced tea and wished she had requested a table in the shade. It was going to be a hot summer. June was already a scorcher. Hearing a commotion coming from inside the café, she looked up and watched Addison knock into tables as she made her way through the outdoor courtyard to Elissa. Above the restaurant clamor she heard her name repeatedly squealed and noticed a few impolite stares from regular patrons

Elissa, Elissa, Liiissa! Addison landed with a thump as she threw herself down in the wrought-iron chair, kicking her tan legs and leather sandals up onto the seat next to her, and catching her oversized bag on the metal handle. Her bracelets clinked. She was dressed in a trendy form-fitting summer dress, cinched at the waist with a tiny gold belt. Elissa felt shabby in her loose top and relaxed boyfriend cut jean shorts.

"Have you been waiting long? I’m sorry. A retarded old bald man stole my cab, then hit me with his cane when I tried to trip him. What is wrong with the people these days? They have no tact! Is the waiter around? I need a martini."

Addison, it isn’t even noon yet. Why can’t you humor me a little and at least sip on a lemonade? Everyone is staring at you already, Elissa said softly from across the table, her embarrassment evident.

Addison smirked. Can I put vodka in it? she asked with a sly grin. "Cuz, you are always trying to limit the fun in my life! Besides, we have too many things to celebrate today, including your birthday, so let’s be rebels and start with a cocktail. I’m buying."

Elissa relented and let Addison order her a fruity Bahama Mama, which she knew she’d never finish.

Well, said Addison, when their drinks were served, let’s hear it. I want updates on your love life, social scene, and what you have been doing in your spare time, because you certainly haven’t been calling me. Please don’t tell me it’s because you’ve been hiding away at that store of yours collecting dust with those other relics. You are turning into one yourself!

"Addy, I have tried to call you, Elissa said meekly. But you seem to be the busy one. I left you three messages just last week."

Addison waved her hand nonchalantly as if to say enough and sipped her martini. The topic was dismissed in typical Addison fashion.

Elissa continued, No, there is nothing in the love pipeline yet, and the shop is still keeping me busy. I started working with a new buyer who sent me an exciting shipment yesterday. Antique French perfume bottles. The fancy blown-glass kind, but I haven’t had time to dig into them yet. She raised her eyebrows, eager to share. "And he sent me a polar bear rug in mint condition. Looks Eskimo—early 1900s, you can tell by the stitching. How I’m going to display that I have no idea. Maybe someone will want it for a game room."

Elissa owned an antique store on the North Shore of Long Island, New York. She made most of her money from wealthy aristocrats staying in the nearby Hamptons or from an occasional businessman who was looking for something rare for his office. Her income was enough to maintain the shop and pay her mortgage.

Addison rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a small black box. Stop thinking about other people’s junk, she said with a laugh. Here, happy birthday. I got you something new, so don’t be disappointed when you realize it doesn’t need polishing.

Elissa lifted the lid and pulled out a dainty necklace that alternated stones with seed pearls and small diamonds. It was beautiful and exactly her taste, simple and elegant. The problem was, she knew she would never wear it.

I know I took a risk getting you a necklace—but you’ve been wearing that key around your neck for at least a decade, and I thought it was time to freshen up your jewelry collection a bit. You can’t live in the past forever, Elissa, Addison said gently as she reached across and lightly squeezed her cousin’s hand.

Elissa’s heart twinged as she thought back to Addison’s reference. Had it really been ten years since the crash? It had happened the year she turned seventeen. It was early evening, and they were all getting ready to go out for dinner and celebrate her birthday. She could remember sitting in front of her vanity, brushing her hair, when her father knocked softly on the door. He strode in wearing a striped three-piece suit and champagne-colored tie. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell his aftershave lingering behind him and zingy peppermint on her cheek from his welcome kiss. He laughed and twirled her around, amazed that his baby girl was all grown up. They sat under the canopy of her four-poster bed, and she watched him pull out a velvet crimson bag with black tassels and a giant monogrammed E from his suit pocket. The first letter of her name, it looped and swirled, embroidered in black cursive. He placed it in her hands and smiled. It called to him he said, from a storefront window in Europe.

Benjamin Morgan had been a successful businessman in the textile industry. A world traveler, he had trekked around the globe negotiating rates and finalizing deals with top importers. When she was a child, he was gone all the time, but now, he only attended high-profile client meetings where he stamped his approval on multimillion-dollar deals.

Elissa fiddled with the satin lacing and felt something cold and metallic slip into her palm. It was an ornate golden key on a slender chain that linked together like woven rope. It was obviously antique, with a long neck and square, jagged teeth that might open a trunk or unlock a hidden castle door. The head of the key was whimsical and different. Entwined metal in a laced pattern. But the showpiece of the key was the center itself, which was a bright red stone.

It’s a ruby, said her father as he unclasped the necklace and placed it around her neck. It’s very rare to find such a large gemstone cut into such a unique shape. It must open up something very special. He winked. It called to me. I knew the moment I saw it that it had to be yours, for what could be more special to me than you? Happy birthday, Elissa, he whispered and kissed her forehead.

After a brief pause he glanced down and sighed, folding his hands in his lap. She could tell he had something more to say.

I can’t go with you tonight to celebrate your birthday, he mumbled. I have an important meeting with clients from India. Connecticut is the last stop on their American tour and I have to take them out to dinner. It could mean a big deal for us in the future. They’re letting me take the jet. I’m sorry—it was very last minute. His eyes looked hurt. I promise to make it up to you. Maybe I’ll take you and your mother to Europe next spring—or China! He beamed. It’s about time I take my two favorite girls across the sea.

He was getting excited at the possibilities of redemption, while Elissa’s face burned bright and angry. But you promised, Daddy! she cried. When am I ever going to turn seventeen again? This is the one moment that I’ve been waiting for forever! I don’t believe you think I’m special. If I was special, you wouldn’t leave me! she wailed as heavy tears slid in fat drops down her cheeks.

I don’t have a choice, princess, he explained, tugging at the tightness of his tie. Uneasiness made him fidget. When I get back, we’ll do some research and find out where that key came from. Heck, maybe we’ll even start our own collection of lost treasures. He smiled weakly and peeked over at Elissa as she sat at the end of the bed, facing the wall. His shoulders sagged. I wish with all my heart that I didn’t have to go, but I give you my word I’ll make it up to you, he choked out with fatherly emotion. I know how special this day is to you.

Elissa refused to respond and remained facing the wall. The stubborn teenager in her overruled his need for forgiveness. He sighed, squeezed her shoulder, and left the room.

The key around Elissa’s neck pressed hot against her chest as she recalled those last words of her father. The headline screamed from the newspapers the next morning:

Young Executive Dies in Fiery Plane Crash

He never even made it to Connecticut. The company’s private plane hit unexpected winds, and they crashed shortly after takeoff. Her father, the pilot, and a junior partner all died on impact. It made headlines for weeks.

She never took the necklace off after that. It just became part of her. Part of her wardrobe, part of who she was, part of her soul. It was the key that inspired her to open up the antique shop. She felt that it paid homage to her father. And not a day went by that she didn’t tug on it and think of him or the quest that never was. She considered it her most valuable possession. And truly it was, …for unbeknownst to either woman, the object around Elissa’s neck unlocked more than just her father’s memory.

Elissa! Addison kicked her cousin under the table.

Elissa refocused. Sorry, lost in thought for a moment, she said with a half-hearted laugh.

Addison shot back a perplexed look.

Elissa quickly shifted the conversation. Your gift is beautiful. Thank you, she said, tucking it aside. How’s Zach?

Zach? Addison giggled and popped an olive into her mouth, sucking on its tartness. Zach is out, girl! Zach has been out for weeks. Wall Street men are things of my past. I’ve moved on to bigger and better. She teased and took another sip of her drink.

Elissa could only imagine what bigger and better meant. Addison’s love life seemed to change faster than the flashy trends she always wore. She’d dated them all: lawyers, doctors, actors, sons of bankers, and wealthy heirs. Who knew where she met them? But one connection always led to another, and there she’d be, on the arm of a young bachelor, sharing the spotlight in New York’s most exclusive clubs. All it did was give Elissa a headache. Who wanted that much attention? But Addison relished it.

So who’s in?

Can’t tell you. This one is different. Her eyes made a quick sweep of the room, and she leaned in. High profile, she whispered and scraped her chair back into place.

Addison’s averted look was enough for Elissa to drop the subject, although she felt as though she should press further. Addison wasn’t always known for making the best decisions, and something about the way she remained aloof led Elissa to believe there was more to the story.

I wish you’d find someone special, Lissa. You’re always alone, letting that shop run your life. You need a companion. It’s only healthy.

Addison’s concern for her was sincere. Elissa shrugged, circling the contents of her drink with a straw. Untouched, the melting ice was starting to turn the bright pink slush a muted rose.

"I’m picky, I guess. I haven’t found anyone yet who moves me, and I’m not the type to test out all the fish in the sea before I find one who does—like someone I know!" She laughed, making light of Addison’s frequent love interests.

Addison returned the laugh, and they giggled together like schoolgirls. Cheers to that! she said, reaching out for a toast. Now finish that Bahama Mama, girl. Drink up!

They wrapped up lunch with promises of movie nights, mani/pedi dates, and the I’ll call soon standard good-bye that often held little promise. As Addison grabbed for her bag, Elissa noticed something fall out of Addison’s purse and skid under another customer’s chair. Her eyes heavy on the object, she waited until the usual exchange of over animated good-byes had been said, then crouched down to retrieve the slip of paper. She was curious. It was a business card, fancy, with bold black type and a giant gold C in the name’s header. The C clearly identified the card’s owner as none other than Brad Carlisle, President and CEO of the media conglomerate Astar Communications—and conveniently politicianing his way into the New York senate. His cell phone number was circled in red ink. Elissa flipped it over and read the scribble on the back:

I’m captivated. Don’t let this be our last moment. bc

As far as Elissa knew, Brad Carlisle was married. It sounded like trouble. Trouble. Just the kind of thing Addison always seemed to find herself in. What has she gotten herself into this time? Elissa wondered. She tucked the card into her purse for safekeeping as questions began to rise.

God only knows, she thought, and rolled her eyes to the sky.

2

Addison itched. Maybe she should have gone with the satin instead of the black lace. The satin probably would have been warmer. Her ass was freezing with so much of it being exposed. Not to mention her feet were starting to cramp from the red stilettos she just had to have. Maybe those cute peep-toe wedges would have been the smarter choice, but then again she didn’t really think she’d be hiding in the closet this long. She thought back to the salesgirl who tried to dissuade her from the purchase.

Four inches is too high with that outfit, she said. You’ll look better with the wedges.

Addison never accepted anyone’s opinion but her own when it came to fashion. And now she was severely paying for it. The wedges may not have given her the right look, but they certainly would have been more comfortable.

What time was it anyway? Brad always came back to the office after dinner. She was beginning to know his schedule after their one or two trysts quickly escalated into weekly encounters. The affair happened so quickly that she hadn’t even had time to write his name in her little black book—an ongoing list of potential suitors. Each name ranked by their prestige, position, affiliations and wealth. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to achieve in the end or what her ultimate goal was. She just enjoyed the chase, and the list kept the challenge alive.

The air-conditioner unit hummed, and she debated whether or not to put back on the lightweight trench coat she had arrived in. Instead she squatted, bumping her head on the way down. She massaged her head.

Damnit, Brad, she thought. Where the hell are you?

Addison had met Brad Carlisle by chance at the opening of a new modern art exhibit in Lower Manhattan. It was an honest mistake, but it wasn’t until someone tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, Ma’am, I believe you are wearing my wife’s coat, did she realize that she had grabbed the wrong fur. Thankfully Mrs. Carlisle was using the restroom and missed the witty exchange of comments that followed. Addison left on the arm of her date, but no one could mistake the way Brad Carlisle’s eyes followed her out the door.

They ran into each other a few months later at the annual firemen’s charity ball. Addison had on a low-cut scarlet cocktail dress that clung to every one of her perfect curves. She had purposely pinned up her midnight hair to showcase her swanlike neck, making a statement when she turned, looking coy over her shoulder.

She danced in circles with every available bachelor, dizzy from cologne and high off too many glasses of merlot. After a break in the music, she slithered up to the bar and ordered another—burgundy red to match her dress. Addison always color coordinated.

I’ll have what the lady is having, a voice murmured low beside her. She turned and stared at the distinguished sandy-haired gentleman. He was grinning. The bartender passed him a drink across the bar.

You don’t remember me, do you? he said. She looked down at his hands encircling the wineglass. They were clean and neatly manicured. This man took great care of his appearance. She also noticed the gold band on his left hand. He was married. Addison reflected for an instant, then shook her head, intrigued by his presumed sophistication.

He smiled and stuck out his hand. Brad Carlisle. We had a run-in with furry coats one evening back in February. I’m a little disappointed you’ve forgotten because I think I became enchanted with you then.

He pulled her in at that point, teasing her with sexual innuendos and flirting with possibilities. They finished their wine and had another. He should have been at the head table, promising donations and discussing public policy with executives and the New York elite. Not to mention filling the empty chair next to his wife. Addison had never met anyone quite like him. He was handsome and powerful, bold and polished. All of her past flings seemed mere boys compared to this one man, whose smoky voice hypnotized her into fantasizing what loving a man of power would be like. This was her big catch, a challenge in the making. So much potential! She remembered he was married, but with someone of his stature, why did it matter? That was merely a hiccup in the game. Addison saw Brad Carlisle as an opportunity and didn’t care much that others would criticize her for playing with fire.

There came a point in the evening when their intimate two-way conversation had to come to an end. It wasn’t becoming for such a public figure to spend too much time chatting with one person, at a bar no less. He kissed her on the hand and secretly slipped a card between her fingers. Trembling with fresh excitement, she read the inscription on the back of his business card. Not letting the newness of their moment fade, she called him the very next day.

A faint voice echoed from down the hall. Oh, good, Addison thought as she adjusted the straps on her corset. Let’s get this show on the road.

Preparing herself she pulled on her thigh high stockings securing them tightly against her legs. Listening as the voice neared, she noticed that there seemed to be an echo. Was there more than one? It sounded like a conversation. Two voices? Maybe it was a colleague working late or a tag-along from his business dinner. Addison pressed herself against the French closet doors of Brad’s private office and strained to see through the middle slit.

Please make this quick, she whispered out loud, narrowing her mascara-crowned eye so she could see better. She still had to get to the supermarket before it closed. Living on cocktail onions and string cheese was beginning to give her heartburn. Not to mention her weakening ankles. Stilettos had definitely been a bad idea.

The office door opened, and Addison’s eyes widened. In stepped Brad Carlisle followed by another gentleman dressed in a black business suit. He was dragging behind him a very frightened young man, rope-tied and duct-taped. What was going on? This was certainly not an extended business meeting or a late-night campaign engagement.

Sit, said Carlisle, and the young man with bound hands was pushed to the floor. He coughed, and a single stream of blood trailed out his nose, splattering on the white office carpet. Slouching over, he looked up at the CEO with sorrowful eyes. His left eye was turning purple. Evidently he had already received several hard blows. Addison’s stomach turned.

Ethan, as part of the agreement, you were never to make contact with me again. Yet you are here in my office inquiring about something that was a done deal.

Maybe it was only obvious to Addison, but clearly Ethan was not in the plush business office of his own accord.

Brad strummed his long manicured fingers over a pile of desk paperwork. Information is power these days, and you should have just kept your mouth shut. Told her to go away, that you didn’t know what she was talking about.

The man tried to speak, but it came out in muffled shouts against the thick duct tape. Brad’s accomplice gave him a sharp kick in the ribs, and the man collapsed into the fetal position, moaning and grunting with pain.

Besides, this isn’t about me anyway, Carlisle said, bending a stick of gum in half and placing it on his tongue. My wife wanted those babies, and we all know how important it is to keep the Mrs. happy. God forbid I had to go through another session of infertility. Do you know how embarrassing it is for someone of my position to jack off in a cup? And technically it isn’t stealing. That impoverished whore you found for us wouldn’t have made a fit mother