It was a brief travel journal entry. The handwriting wasn’t Vance’s; she knew his script too well.
It was obviously a photocopy, and she couldn’t help wondering, “Could this be from Darren’s travel diary? Has Vance gone there, copied a page, and pasted it onto the postcard for me?”
She hadn’t known Darren that well.
It was said that handwriting revealed one’s character. Darren’s script was bold and strong, his sentences short and direct, which meant he was straightforward and masculine as a guy.
She slipped the postcard into a drawer.
The second letter arrived a week later. This time it wasn’t a postcard but a printed sketch on paper. She couldn’t quite place the meaning of the figures until a letter slipped out of the envelope.
[Dear Rebecca,]
[I couldn’t resist writing to you. After leaving the Lake District, I found the guesthouse where Darren once stayed. It sits right along the road–a century–old, classic, countryside cottage that’s incredibly charming. I wish I could take pictures and send them to you; you’d love it.]
[The place is filled with old objects, especially the paintings on the walls. Some were passed down through the owner’s family for generations, others left by guests.
[The one you’re looking at is one Darren left behind. Do you remember what he drew? Flip it over for the answer.]
Rebecca eagerly turned the sketch around. She now recognized the bold, firm strokes. It was Darren’s handwriting.
[Brought my friends to the cottage. Who was the one loving these chubby little houses?]
She flipped it back and studied the drawing. Darren’s skill was surprisingly good.
[From Vance after a heavy rain.]
He had left Anna’s contact information at the bottom.
blocked each other. If you want, you can add Anna and ask her to
“So, he has gone with Anna,” Rebecca murmured, setting the letter down
She sat quietly for a while, imagining the lakeside cottage with rain beating against the windows.

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