Flower Committee

In Pennycombe, the foxgloves came up tall the summer everything changed—beautiful, poisonous, and nodding over the churchyard wall as if they already knew a secret.Eleanor Fenwick knows a thing or two about poison. Her late husband was the village doctor, and he taught her that the same flower that stops a heart in a meadow can save a life in a tablet. It's all in the dose. Nine months a widow, ch...