It’s a remembrance blend – Memory House
Ophelia can see the weary look on the girl’s face. “No need to apologize. I’ve got no other guests tonight, so there’s plenty of room.”
Annie smiles, introduces herself and then follows the woman into the center hall. As they walk toward the back rooms, Annie catches the scent of something sweet— roses maybe or gardenias. It would be two, possibly three months before such flowers would bloom in Philadelphia, but she’d traveled south so conceivably…
“Is that roses I smell?” she asks.
Ophelia gives a soft chuckle. “No, that’s my potpourri.” She points a gnarled finger toward the glass bowl sitting atop a tiny three-legged table.
“Oh.” Annie nods. “Made from dried roses?”
Ophelia shakes her head. “No roses. It’s mostly passion flower and vanilla.”
Annie takes a deep breath. “Funny, I don’t smell vanilla at all.”
“You wouldn’t unless vanilla was your favorite fragrance. It’s a remembrance blend. It reminds you of something that’s brought happiness.”