The envelope jammed in Wren's mailbox wasn't hers. Same street, wrong number: 14 instead of 41, the digits swapped by some tired hand at the sorting office. It was addressed to a woman named Cordelia, in looping handwriting. Inside, a letter began, 'Darling, I know it's been too long, and I owe you the truth.' Wren stood on her steps, holding a stranger's letter, not sure what to do.

Wren decided to walk it over to number 41 herself. The right house had a blue door and a sleepy cat in the window. She knocked, holding the letter out like an apology. The door opened, and a young man blinked at her, confused. 'I'm looking for Cordelia,' Wren said.

'Cordelia's my aunt,' the man said. 'She moved to the coast last spring. I'm Jonah, I just rent the place now.' He looked at the looping handwriting and his face went soft. 'That's Theo's writing. He's been trying to reach her for years.' Wren leaned in. 'Do you know how to find either of them?'

Jonah dug out an old address book and found Cordelia's seaside address. He and Wren mailed Theo's letter together, with a note saying where Cordelia had gone. A month later, a postcard arrived at number 14. It showed a beach and read: 'They found each other. Thank you, neighbor. Come to the wedding. — Cordelia.' Wren laughed out loud, and so did Jonah, who hadn't left her side since.