The sage had gone feral.
Nora Alden still brought a clipboard.
Three months after her grandmother's death, the Boston auditor is back in a greenhouse that will not stay inventoried. Lavender owns the path. Rosemary ate a potting bench. Opening night is in forty-eight hours, and the town is already watching the granddaughter who left.
Then the frost appears.
Not mildew. Not a draft. White rime on leaves in a room that has not dropped below sixty degrees.
A brick follows. Then a nuisance notice. Then voices in the dark rows after the last guest goes home.
Nora can count seed packets. She can balance a column to zero. She cannot make the greenhouse behave like a business, and she cannot make the town forget that Alden women were never only shopkeepers.
Jasper already knows what she is pretending not to hear.
Detective Liam wants a statement, not a theory.
The mayor wants the problem gone before it grows.
Someone is sabotaging the shop.
The plants are trying to testify.
And every answer Nora pulls from the soil takes a piece of memory with it.
She came home to close an estate.
The estate intends to keep her.
What to expect:
Paranormal cozy mystery · Amateur sleuth · Talking familiar · Herb-shop witchcraft · Small-town secrets · Slow-burn detective · Magic with a memory cost · Clean-to-mild · Book 1 of a series · No cliffhanger ending on the crime
