Page 127 of Meet Me on Greenwood

I smiled as I saw a picture of Rita, who had taken over the paper after her dad passed. She ran it with her long-term business partner Bernadette.

"She never left," I said.

"Come again?" Maise asked.

"Nothing," I said. "Still nothing about Houston?"

She shrugged. "Nothing."

I hadn’t woken up with the amulet my mother had given me. It was the only physical indicator, besides my wound, that let me know, what I’d seen and experienced was real. It felt strange being back in my timeline, like things didn’t quite fit.

As Maise checked me out of the hospital, I asked after Bri. Though our relationship was fragile, she had been warmer towards me ever since I woke up.

"She wanted to be here," Maise said. "But she checked herself into rehab yesterday. She spent a month at your bedside, and I think it was what she needed to finally get help."

I sighed in relief. My heart was broken and my job prospects were grim, but at least my sister was finally getting what she needed.

Maise was driving me to her short-term rental, when I cried out.

"Stop!"

"What?" she asked.

"Please!" I begged, opening the door before she could get the car in park.

"Gema!" Maise called after me, but I could not stop.

I walked towards a house that I’d seen many times while living in Tulsa, both during this timeline and in the past. It was Houston’s house.

The house was fully restored and gated, so I couldn’t walk to the door. I tried anyway, buzzing the gate.

"Gema!" Maise said in alarm.

After a few buzzes, a woman finally answered on the other end.

"I am so sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I have a question."

"Yes?" the woman asked bewildered. I couldn’t blame her. I must look half crazed, still bandaged with bruised on my face.

"Did you know a Houston Whitaker, or Dr. Whitaker, who lived here?"

There was silence, but then she said, "No."

I sighed, completely deflated. Another dead-end.

"This house belonged to my grandmother, Lettie Williams."

My eyes opened wide. "Lettie? Is she still with us?" I asked, though I knew the answer.

"She died when I was ten years old," she answered, "but she lived a long and fulfilling life as a bootlegger, until prohibition ended and she opened up her own restaurant. We own the Williams Café’s around town."

I had no idea what those were, but I had the feeling they must be popular. My heart filled with joy. "Thank you. You have no idea what it means to me to hear that. I’ll leave you be."

I started to walk away when her voice rang out from the speaker. "Wait, did you know her?"

I smiled. "In another life."

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