Epilogue
Perfume is the essence of beauty, the heart of illusion, the soul of desire. It is my past, my present, my future. –DB
10 May, 1946 - Grasse, France
Danielle stood at the bedroom window gazing over fields of flowers, their shaded hues emerging in the waning moonlight, their sweet scents mingling in the early predawn air. Her nose tingled, juxtaposing the fresh aroma of dew-laden grass with musky warmth from their night of lovemaking. An idea for a new perfume danced in her mind.
Jon stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her, nuzzling her neck. This is a perfect moment, she thought, resting her head against his chest and breathing in the beloved spring aromas of the Grasse countryside. How many years I’ve waited for this.
After Danielle left for America, Philippe had shutt
