This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The morning light filtered through the ancient oak trees of Harmony Gardens, casting dancing shadows across the carefully tended flower beds. Grace Sullivan knelt among the white roses, her fingers gentle as she pruned the thorny stems. Each bloom seemed to respond to her touch, opening more fully, as if the very plants sensed the love she poured into her work.

"Another early morning, I see," came a warm voice from behind her.

Grace turned to find Mrs. Henderson, the elderly woman who owned the flower shop where Grace had been working for the past three years. The silver-haired lady carried two steaming cups of tea, her eyes twinkling with the kind of wisdom that comes from decades of watching love stories unfold.

"The roses are most beautiful at dawn," Grace replied, accepting the offered cup gratefully. "They seem to hold the morning dew like tiny diamonds."

Mrs. Henderson settled onto the wooden bench nearby, studying Grace with the keen observation of someone who had become a surrogate grandmother. "You know, dear, I've been thinking. Perhaps it's time you considered the church's request again."

Grace's hands stilled on the rose stem she'd been examining. For months, Pastor Williams had been asking her to design the floral arrangements for the annual Harvest Festival, but Grace had declined each time. The thought of working so publicly, of having her arrangements scrutinized by the entire congregation, filled her with a familiar anxiety.

"I don't know, Mrs. Henderson. What if they don't like what I create? What if I'm not talented enough for something so important?"

The older woman's expression softened with understanding. Grace had arrived in their small town of Millbrook three years ago, carrying nothing but a battered suitcase and wounds that ran deeper than anyone knew. She had been running from a past that had convinced her she was worthless, that her dreams of becoming a florist were foolish fantasies.