Mme Newton and the artist stood together by the doors leading to the open courtyard.

Mira overheard Mary’s question. “Mme Newton, you will serve those delicious macarons you served at afternoon tea the last time I visited?”

“Oui, Mme Cassatt.”

Mary smiled brightly. “Thank you.” She placed her attention once more on Mira, and Mme Newton escaped through the back hall.

Chills raced over Mira’s skin. She stood in the presence of the artist she, her mother, and Sylvie adored.

When I return—not if but when I return—I will have an unbelievable story to tell.