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After eighty-one years and two failed love elixirs, Augusta Stern knew exactly who she was—a woman of science like her father, an old-world healer like her aunt. She believed in medicine and in miracles. She believed in family and in love. She believed in the power of moonlight in kitchens, in the power of women, in the power of words. She believed that even on life’s darkest days, a bowl of chicken soup could offer comfort. She believed that the world still held a bit of magic for those who were patient and wise enough to wait.

