The record now reflected the original appeal and the subsequent findings regarding the altered documents.
Talia invited Anita inside.
They sat at the kitchen table where Lorraine used to prepare tea.
For several minutes, they talked about the investigation and the records.
Then Anita looked toward a framed photograph on the wall.
It showed Lorraine standing beside the rose garden, wearing a pale-blue cardigan and holding a bouquet of red flowers.
Anita smiled sadly.
"That's how I remember her."
Talia followed her gaze.
"From city hall?"
Anita nodded.
"She always brought photographs."
Talia laughed softly.
"She loved those roses."
For a moment, Anita seemed emotional.
Then she spoke.
"Your mother never yelled at me. Even when the office couldn't explain the notices, she stayed polite."
Talia smiled.
"That sounds like her."
Anita looked down.
"I wish I'd been able to do more."
Talia studied her.
Then reached across the table.
"You did raise concerns."
Anita nodded.
"But they didn't listen."
Talia considered the words.
Then answered gently.
"That's why we need systems where a single supervisor can't make accurate records disappear just by being annoyed."
Anita looked up.
For several seconds, she remained quiet.
Then she smiled.
"I think she'd agree."
Talia nodded.
"She absolutely would."
The following spring, the rose garden began blooming again.
Not all the damaged plants survived.
Several had been crushed too severely, and others required careful pruning and replacement.
Talia consulted an experienced local gardener named Isaiah Reynolds, a sixty-year-old Black American man who had maintained historic residential gardens for decades.
Isaiah examined the surviving plants.
He listened as Talia explained their significance.
Then he knelt beside the oldest rosebush near the fence.
For a moment, he studied the growth.
Finally, he smiled.
"This one's still strong."
Talia looked surprised.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"The roots are healthy."
She knelt beside him.
The plant was smaller than she remembered.
Several branches had been removed.
And the surrounding soil still showed signs of disturbance.
But new green growth had appeared.
Isaiah pointed toward it.
"See those shoots?"
Talia nodded.
"That's the plant rebuilding."
For several seconds, she stared.
Then she smiled through tears.
"This was the first rosebush my father planted."
Isaiah looked toward her.
"Then it's worth saving."
They spent the afternoon planning repairs.
The garden would retain Lorraine's original arrangement where practical.
The red roses would remain beside the white fence.
The blue and purple hydrangeas would continue filling the beds near the porch.
And new plants would replace the ones that couldn't recover.
Talia didn't want an elaborate redesign.
She wanted the garden to look like the place her mother loved.
Margaret Ellis helped choose the replacement roses.