When the Wildflowers Speak

PROLOGUEThe cottage sat nestled at the edge of Meadow brook, its weatheredstones cradled by a riot of wildflowers that danced in the summerbreeze. The garden seemed alive, its vibrant colors whisperingsecrets to anyone who paused long enough to listen. Claire Harperstood on the gravel path, her fingers curling around the strap of hersuitcase. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle wafted throughthe air, mingling with the faint rustle of leaves and the distant humof bees.