The living room had been transformed. The peeling wallpaper was gone, the sagging floorboards were replaced, and in the center stood Grandma’s old oak table, polished and set with two cups. I stared at Preston. “I don’t understand,” I whispered. He swallowed hard. “Look at the wall behind you.” I turned and saw a small hand-painted wooden panel I had never noticed, hanging open like a door.

Inside the hidden cupboard sat a rusted tin box and a bundle of letters tied with blue ribbon, each addressed to me in Grandma’s handwriting. My knees weakened. “I found them while checking the floor,” Preston said quietly. “I didn’t touch anything else.” On top lay one envelope marked “Open first, Hannah.” My hands shook as I lifted it, and the paper smelled faintly of lavender.