Part 1: The Beginning of the Bright Days In the small town of Elmridge, there stood a greenhouse unlike any other. It rose behind the butter-yellow cottage of Miss Henrietta Finch, its panes of antique glass catching the sun like facets of a jewel. On warm days, the street seemed to glow from it — a quiet testament to the blooming magic Miss Finch coaxed from the soil. Henrietta Finch was seventy-three years old, short and birdlike, with a halo of white curls that frizzed around her head no matter how she pinned them back. She wore gumboots in all seasons and once scandalized the town by mowing her lawn in her dressing gown and pearls. Nobody minded. They forgave every eccentricity — because Miss Finch’s greenhouse was Elmridge’s secret treasure.