Nora had not visited Willow Lane since she was twelve.

Now she stood outside her grandmother’s cottage with a rusted key in her hand and rain soaking through her coat.

The house looked smaller than she remembered.

Inside, everything smelled like lavender and old books. On the kitchen table sat a note in her grandmother’s handwriting.

Do not sell the house until you find the letters.

Nora searched every drawer before noticing a loose floorboard beneath the living-room rug.

Under it was a wooden box.

Inside were twenty-three letters tied with blue ribbon.

None had been mailed.

The first envelope was addressed to a man named Daniel Rowe.

Her grandfather’s name.