Synopsis: On the eve of the Second World War, the last surviving specimen of a camellia plant known as the Middlebury Pink lies secreted away on an English country estate. Flora, an amateur American botanist, is contracted by an international ring of flower thieves to infiltrate the household and acquire the coveted bloom. Her search is at once brightened by new love and threatened by her discovery of a series of ghastly crimes.
More than half a century later, garden designer Addison takes up residence at the manor, now owned by the family of her husband, Rex. The couple’s shared passion for mysteries is fueled by the enchanting camellia orchard and an old gardener’s notebook. Yet its pages hint at dark acts ingeniously concealed. If the danger that Flora once faced remains very much alive, will Addison share her fate?
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And an Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Addison New York City June 1, 2000
The phone rang from the kitchen, insistent, taunting. It might as well have been a stick of dynamite on the granite counter-top. If I didn’t pick it up after three rings, the answering machine would turn on. I cannot let the answering machine turn on.
“Are you getting that?” my husband, Rex, said from the couch, looking up from his notebook. He had an adorable fascination with old-school appliances. Typewriters, record players, and an answering machine circa 1987. But at that moment, I longed for voice mail. If only we had voice mail.“I’ll get it!” I said, jumping up from the breakfast table and stubbing my toe on the leg of the chair. I winced. One ring. Two.
The hair on my arms stood on end. What if it was him? He had started calling two weeks ago, and every time the phone rang, I felt the familiar terror. Calm. Deep breath. Maybe it was one of my clients. That horrible Mrs. Atwell, the one who’d made me redo her rose garden three times. Or the IRS. Let it be the IRS. Anyone would be more welcome than the person I feared waited on the other end of the line.
If I turned off the machine, he’d call again. Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he’d keep circling until he got what he wanted.
I had to answer it. “Hello?” I said airily into the receiver.
Rex looked up, smiled at me, then returned to his notebook.
“Hello again, Addison.” His voice made me shiver. I couldn’t see him, of course, but I knew his face—the patchy stubble that grew around his chin, that amused look in his eyes. “You know, I don’t care for your new name. Amanda suited you much better.”
I remained silent, quickly opening the French doors and stepping outside onto the patio that overlooked a tiny patch of garden— rare for the city, but all ours. A bird chirped happily from the little camellia tree Rex and I had planted last year on our first wedding anniversary. I hated that he was trespassing on my private sanctuary.
“Listen,” I whispered. “I told you to stop calling me.” I looked up at the apartment building behind our townhouse, wondering if he could see me from one of the windows above.
“Amanda, Amanda,” he said, amused.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Oh, I forgot,” he continued. “You’re all fancy now. I read about your wedding in the paper.” He clicked his tongue scoldingly. “Quite the fairy-tale ending for a girl who—”
“Please,” I said. I couldn’t bear the sound of his voice, the way it made me think of the past. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” I begged.
“You mean, you don’t miss me? Think of all the good times we had together. You remember the way we used to—”
“Stop,” I said, cringing.
“Oh, I see how it is,” he said. “All stuck-up now that you married the King of England. You think you’re really something. Well, let me ask you this: Does your husband know who you really are? Does he know what you’ve done?”
I felt sick, woozy. “Please, please leave me alone,” I pleaded, feeling my throat tightening as I swallow..
Review: This is a dual-narrative mystery that goes back and forth in time. Normally I am quite a fan of these (history nut that I am), but I felt like this one should have been longer, as I was left with questions at times, that made me go back and reread a chapter or two back, thinking I might have missed something, only to realize I hadn't. In fact it took me 4 sittings to get through this small novel, I have never read any of Jio's novels,but I think maybe this one was rushed a bit, due to lingering questions I had after I finished the book. I like my books to be 'done' so to speak, and this one left me thinking there should have been more. It's not a bad start, and for those who know in advance to let go of any questions, could be a decent beach read. If you like Jio's books, then you will probably like this book-being more familiar with her writing style.
About the Author: Sarah Jio is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Blackberry Winter, The Violets of March, and The Bungalow. She has written thousands of articles for magazines such as Glamour, SELF, Health, Redbook, Cooking Light, O, The Oprah Magazine, Woman's Day and many other publications. She lives in Seattle with her husband and their three young children.Check out her website for more info.
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