“Better lucky than smart,” Beverly said. I certainly felt lucky. I’d only met her in person the day before, yet here I was, glass of rosé in hand, seated on her terrace in the south of France, the lights of Valbonne in the valley below mirroring the stars.

Almost nine years ago, a friend and I stopped into an estate sale, and I came away with a four dollar bottle of Lucien Lelong Indiscret parfum (the story and a mini-review are here). A few years later, a stranger — Beverly — wrote to me saying that her mother had worn Indiscret, and would I send her a sample? Her mother had died when Beverly was only 18, more than fifty years earlier. I sent her the bottle…

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