Page 121 of Lease to Love

I smiled… Until I saw what was next to the frame.

An obituary.

Autumn Rose Jones.

March 12, 2000–July 20, 2018.

The dates floored me.

Three months.

Three months between that photograph and the end of a life. Maybe less.

I looked back at Summer's face in the graduation photo.

She had no idea that she was smiling at a future that had already been stolen from her.

"Ms. Langston is ready to see you."

Rayna's voice pulled me back.

I nodded once and forced myself away from the photographs.

Outside, the garden was alive with color.

Flowers spilled from raised beds, climbing vines curled around trellises, and the morning breeze carried the scent of damp soil and jasmine. Somewhere nearby, wind chimes moved softly in the breeze, their notes almost swallowed by the distant sounds of Langston Park waking up.

Ms. Langston sat at a wrought-iron table beneath a flowering tree.

Gold and hunter green wrapped around her in a loose house kaftan, a matching headwrap covering her silver hair. Gold bangles climbed both wrists, catching the morning light every time she moved.

Looking at her, I saw where Summer got it.

The style.

The presence.

The ability to make a room feel like it belonged to her.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Sterling."

"You too, Ms. Langston."

I pulled out the chair across from her. The wrought iron was warm beneath my hands from the morning sun, its ornate metal pressing into my palms as I sat.

Rayna appeared behind us. "I'm just inside if you need me."

Ms. Langston smiled. "Thank you, baby."

Rayna disappeared into the house.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Ms. Langston folded her hands on the table.

"What do you know about the Red Summer of 1919, Mr. Sterling?"

I blinked.