30“Did you ask Perdonna if I could stay here?” Cecil asked as he stood outside her mansion. Bouquets of white macarons sat in the windows, the smell of buttered brioche seeping through the door. Perdonna demanded that the house smell of lemon, sugar, crêpes, and vanilla. Scents served as her inspiration, but she hated the artificiality of candles. Immacolata warmed lemon juice and sugar in crystal bowls with vanilla extract in every room.
This was home.
“Believe me, you have an open invitation. At any hour,” Ava said.
The door swung open, and Immacolata, Perdonna’s most trusted servant, stood in the entryway. “Señor LeClaire!” she exclaimed, so shocked she covered her mouth. “The señora will be so pleased to see you. I will put crêpes on right away.”
“I appreciate that, but it’s late—”
