Chapter 2

The living room was spacious, sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating an old sofa, a vintage chest of drawers, and a rocking chair.

An elderly woman sat in the rocking chair, covered with a blanket, asleep.

Leonard gently cleared his throat.

The old lady didn't stir. Her head lolled to one side, her mouth slightly open, with a small trace of drool at the corner of her mouth.

Leonard stood there, unsure if he should wake her. He noticed an open photo album beside her, containing yellowed old photographs. Sunlight streamed across the pictures, casting light on a faded face in one of them.

"Mrs. Grace Goodwin?" Leonard said quietly.

Grace stirred, blinking awake. Her eyes wandered for a moment before finally settling on Leonard.

"Oh, Mr. Leonard Brooks?" she smiled, her voice a little scratchy. "The agent told me you would be coming to see the house today. Sit down. Let me get you some water."

She stood up, wobbling a bit as she headed for the kitchen. Leonard thought about helping, but she was already gone, and soon he heard the sound of water being poured.

Now Leonard was alone in the living room. He looked around, taking in the space. A few old photographs hung on the walls, most in black and white, with a handful in faded color that looked like they were taken in the eighties or nineties.

He didn't recognize a single face in any of them.

His eyes drifted to the chest of drawers. On top sat a small framed photo of a young woman in a drop-waist flapper dress, her hair waved and close to her head, standing on a balcony and smiling.

That balcony was the very same one he saw from the outside.

"Here, have some water," Grace said, coming out with a mug. "It's cold out. Drink something warm."

Leonard took the mug and thanked her. Grace settled back into her rocking chair, picked up the open photo album, glanced at it for a moment, and then closed it.

"It's just me living here," she said. "The third floor is empty. I stay on the second, and the first floor is shared space. If you want to rent, you can have the third floor for 800 dollars a month."

That price was ridiculously low for the historic district. Leonard blinked in surprise. "You're not going to check my ID?"

Grace waved it off. "The agent already did. I'm just an old lady. How could I tell anyway?"

As she spoke, she suddenly paused, her eyes lingering on Leonard, her brow creasing a little. Leonard felt a bit uncomfortable, like he was being examined under a microscope.

"Have I... Have I met you before?" Grace asked.

Leonard shook his head. "Pretty sure not. It's my first time here."

"Oh." Grace nodded, though a hint of confusion lingered in her eyes. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a look? The key's hanging above the doorframe."

Leonard headed upstairs. The wooden steps creaked beneath him. The third floor was an attic. It was not big, but tidy, with a window overlooking the alley below.

He stood by the window, taking in the neighbors' rooftops across the alley and the distant city skyline.

He really liked this place. It was quiet, had that vintage vibe, and it was the Goodwin family's old house. Maybe he'd stumble upon a clue to "The Crossing Dust" here.

He went downstairs, ready to sign the contract. In the living room, Grace was still flipping through the photo album, muttering to herself as she went through the pages.

"This is Jonathan, this is Helen, and this is..."

Leonard walked over and saw her turn to a page, pointing at someone in the photo, but she just couldn't recall the name.

Her finger hovered in the air and her lips moved. The name was right there on the tip of her tongue, but it just wouldn't come out.

"Mrs. Goodwin?" Leonard said gently.

Grace looked up at him, her eyes a little hazy. "And you are..."

"I'm here to see the house," Leonard reminded her. "You just asked me to check out the upstairs."

"Oh, right, the house," Grace said, smiling a bit apologetically. "My memory's just not working anymore. Getting old, I guess."

She closed the album and set it aside. Leonard noticed the cover was dark red velvet, with gold lettering that read "Goodwin Family Photo Album."

"Do you live here alone?" Leonard asked.

"Just me," Grace replied. "My son's in Carisland. He comes back once a year. He wanted me to move there too, but I can't bear to leave this house. I've lived here my whole life."

As she spoke, her eyes drifted to the photo on the wall. Leonard followed her gaze. It was the picture of the young woman on the balcony.

"Is that you?" Leonard asked.

Grace smiled, her wrinkles relaxing. "That's me when I was young. Wasn't I pretty?"

"Very pretty," Leonard replied.

Leonard paused, then took out his phone, and opened the notes app. "Mrs. Goodwin, can I ask you something? Have you ever come across a book called 'The Crossing Dust'?"

Grace cocked her head, looking puzzled. "The crossing what?"

"The Crossing Dust," Leonard clarified.

"Can't say I've heard of it," she replied, shaking her head. "There are plenty of books in this house, though. They're all up on the third floor in the bookcase. You can go check them out if you want."

Leonard thanked her, signed the contract, and paid the deposit and three months' rent. As he was leaving, Grace walked him to the door, standing on the steps and waving goodbye.

Sunlight fell on her silver hair, and for a moment, her smile was just like the one in the old photograph of the young woman.

Suddenly, Leonard remembered something and turned back. "Mrs. Goodwin, earlier you asked if you'd met me before. Do you have trouble recognizing faces?"

Grace paused and then smiled. "No, no trouble. I just can't remember faces. The doctor said it's called... what was it... Alz... something?"

"Alzheimer's?" Leonard asked.

"Yes, that's it." Grace nodded, her tone as casual as if she were talking about the weather.

"My memory's just not what it used to be. Yesterday's gone, what I just said slips away, and faces? Forget it. But maybe that's a good thing. At least I don't remember the bad things."

She smiled and turned back inside.

Leonard stood on the doorstep, watching as the door slowly closed. Sycamore leaves drifted down, landing by his feet.

He thought of his father.

During his father's last days, his dad would smile at him and say, "Dad, you're here."

Leonard remembered his father's smile perfectly.