Ruth Adler's will left her granddaughter three things: a white clapboard house in Millbrook, eleven thousand dollars, and a garden that wraps three sides of the property. The handwritten note attached to the deed said: "The garden is not optional. It is the house." And below that: "Nora will kill everything at first. That's fine. Tell her to keep going."

Ruth was right. The poppies died by May. The lavender faded by June. The roses dropped their blooms in a single week. By August, more than half the garden was dead. Beth Nowak from the nursery on Route 9 tested the soil, checked the drainage, and found nothing wrong.

In September, Nora found the journal. A composition notebook in the bedroom closet, first entry dated 1965. Every plant in the garden was planted for a specific memory of Thomas Adler. Red poppies for the day Ruth met him ...