But she’s no ‘girl next door’ — Clutching a tattered suitcase against her chest, Aimée looked up at the Gothic window in front of the house. How had it even gotten there? It was commonplace in her native Lille. In fact, she rarely even noticed the Gothic architecture of L’Église Saint-Maurice, which she had passed every day as a child. But here? In a tiny village in the United States? This gothic window stuck out like a sore thumb. It was as…