The Southglen cottage.

Evening settled in, the sun’s rays filtering through the black iron fence. Endless hydrangeas—those summer blossoms forever caught in blue—filled the garden.

Grandma Ward reclined in a bamboo chair, the evening breeze tousling her silver hair. Beside her, the housekeeper sat peeling tender water caltrops with practiced care.

A glossy black car pulled to a halt outside the garden. Madam Carter, leaning heavily on Mr. ...