Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 215

“What’s silhouette papercutting? Never even heard of it.”

“Even if you haven’t, Lorenzo said it’s a lost art. That means it’s rare—and probably worth a fortune.”

A few people nearby were whispering among themselves.

Sheila’s face paled noticeably.

Sallie, on the other hand, felt a little relief; at least she hadn’t embarrassed herself.

Lorenzo stood up and walked over to Jessica, his manner incredibly polite. “Excuse me, miss, may I ask who made this piece?”

Vince chimed in immediately. “She did.”

“Really?”

Excited, Lorenzo reached out to shake Jessica’s hand, but Larkin beat him to it, practically elbowing him aside as he grabbed Jessica’s hand himself.

Larkin gently led Jessica back to his seat, coaxing her to sit down beside him. The old man held her hand tightly, as if he couldn’t bear to let go. He patted her hand tenderly, his aged eyes shining with unshed tears.

“My dear, this gift you’ve given me is truly priceless. You’ve recreated the Zimmerman family’s ancestral home—my family’s home. All that remains of it now is a single faded photo, and the details in that picture are all but lost. But you…”

He glanced once more at the piece, unable to tear his eyes away. “But you’ve brought it to life so beautifully. That little boy there—that’s me, when I was a child. And the woman beside him is my mother. The moment I saw your papercutting, it was as if I’d been transported back in time. This is, without a doubt, the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received in my life.”

Larkin had always cherished papercutting, and his praise for Jessica was nothing short of effusive.

When everyone heard Larkin say it depicted the Zimmerman family’s ancestral home, the room fell silent with awe.

Sheila looked up and, spotting Mr. Smith, her face changed yet again.

Jessica’s papercutting today was done in a traditional style—a far cry from her animated piece of The Grand Canal, Venice. Still, it was clear she had real talent; even without the cartoonish flair, her work seemed to breathe with life. You could almost glimpse the bustling streets of seventy years ago in her art.

Timothy probably hadn’t had a chance yet to talk to Mr. Smith about the animated character project. If Mr. Smith took a liking to Jessica’s work, all of Sheila’s efforts last night would have been in vain.

Sheila caught sight of Timothy standing nearby.

“Timothy, you’re here too,” she called out.

Hearing his name, Jessica immediately looked up.

Timothy strode in, calm and poised, his presence outshining everyone else in the room. Every gesture, every step radiated quiet confidence and effortless grace, drawing every eye to him the moment he entered.