The cottage sat nestled at the edge of Meadow brook, its weathered
stones cradled by a riot of wildflowers that danced in the summer
breeze. The garden seemed alive, its vibrant colors whispering
secrets to anyone who paused long enough to listen. Claire Harper
stood on the gravel path, her fingers curling around the strap of her
suitcase. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle wafted through
the air, mingling with the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum
of bees.
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