{"id":2046,"date":"2026-06-13T13:31:55","date_gmt":"2026-06-13T13:31:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/?p=2046"},"modified":"2026-06-13T13:31:55","modified_gmt":"2026-06-13T13:31:55","slug":"he-divorced-her-at-58-she-bought-an-old-restaurant-with-her-last-dollar-only-for-this-to-happen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/?p=2046","title":{"rendered":"He Divorced Her At 58. She Bought An Old Restaurant With Her Last Dollar. Only For This To Happen\u2026"},"content":{"rendered":"

He Divorced Her At 58. She Bought An Old Restaurant With Her Last Dollar. Only For This To Happen\u2026<\/strong><\/em><\/h1>\n

Three weeks after her husband took everything, the house, the car, 30 years of her labor, Loretta used her last dollar left in the world to buy an abandoned restaurant.
\nShe opened a storage room door in the back of the kitchen, inside were 31 bottles with her grandmother\u2019s name on them.
\nShe did not know it yet, but those bottles were about to trigger the downfall of the man who had spent 18 months making sure she had nothing.
\nHe missed one thing, the one thing that was about to destroy him.
\nThe storage room smelled like old wood and dust, and something underneath both of those things that Loretta could not immediately name.
\nShe had been standing in the doorway for two minutes without moving.
\nShe had not planned to open this door today, she had come to measure the kitchen to figure out what equipment was functional and what needed replacing.
\nShe had a notepad in her hand and a list of things to check, and none of those things included the storage room at the back, but the door was there and she opened it.
\nThe light from the kitchen fell across the floor and stopped at her feet, beyond it the room was dim, broken chairs stacked against one wall.
\nOld equipment draped in cloth, boxes of paper supplies gone soft with age, eight years of nobody coming in here.
\nEight years of a door staying shut, against the back wall covered in canvas were wooden crates, she almost walked past them.
\nShe almost told herself it was old equipment and nothing more and went back to her notepad and her list, she walked to them instead.
\nShe pulled the canvas back with one hand, underneath were bottles, 31 of them, each one sealed with wax.
\nEach one bearing a handwritten label in ink that had faded but not disappeared, she picked one up.
\nShe read the label, she did not move for a long time: \u201cTrame Original, Estelle May Williams, New Orleans, Louisiana\u201d.
\nLoretta stood in that storage room on Edgewood Avenue in Atlanta with her grandmother\u2019s name in her hands and did not make a sound, she had $21,000 to her name.
\nShe had bought this building three weeks after her husband served her divorce papers, she had opened this door expecting nothing.
\nShe had not expected this, she did not know yet what it meant, she would get to know later on.
\nLoretta grew up on Trumea Street in New Orleans.
\nIn her grandmother\u2019s kitchen, Estelle May Williams cooked every day and Loretta was beside her every day, the kitchen was where everything real happened in that house.
\nWhere the news of the day got discussed, where problems got talked through, where food came out of almost nothing and fed everyone who needed feeding.
\nEstelle made hot sauce, a recipe that had been in the family for two generations before her, she started bottling it when Loretta was 12.
\nBecause the neighbors kept asking and Estelle decided if they were going to ask that many times she might as well make it worth her while.
\n\u201cTrame Original\u201d, when Loretta left New Orleans at 24 for Atlanta, her grandmother slipped two things into her hands.
\nA recipe book handwritten, every page full, 30 years of cooking recorded in Estelle\u2019s careful script.
\nAnd a small photograph tucked inside the front cover, Estelle standing in front of her Trem\u00e9 Street kitchen in 1987.
\n31 years old, a jar of hot sauce in each hand, smiling like she knew something nobody else knew yet.
\nLoretta carried both for 30 years, she married Calvin Simmons at 27, he was charming and ambitious.
\nAnd he had a plan for everything, including her, she believed his plan and her instincts were the same thing, they were not for 30 years.
\nShe ran the household, raised two children, entertained his clients and managed the books for his real estate firm without a salary or a title.
\nEvery connection Calvin had in Atlanta came through dinners she cooked and conversations she facilitated, she built the foundation of his life with her hands and her time and her intelligence.
\nHer name was on none of it, not on the firm, not on the accounts.
\nNot on the deed to the house they had lived in for 22 years, she had signed papers over the years without reading them carefully.
\nBecause that is what you do when you trust someone, when you have no reason not to trust someone, you sign, you move on, you cook dinner.
\nCalvin started planning the divorce two years before he served the papers, he had met someone at his firm, a woman 30 years younger.
\nWho saw in Calvin what Loretta had once seen before she understood what was underneath, his lawyers spent 18 months restructuring what he could restructure.
\nThe house had gone through a refinancing three years earlier that transferred the deed into Calvin\u2019s name only, Loretta had signed that closing too.
\nShe remembered the pen in her hand, she did not remember anyone explaining what she was actually signing away.
\nThe business accounts were structured to make her contribution invisible, the savings moved to accounts in his name.
\nThe investments were locked in a trust naming Calvin as sole beneficiary, by the time Loretta\u2019s lawyer got involved.
\nCalvin\u2019s team had an 18-month head start, the $22,000 left in the joint checking account was the one thing they missed.
\nEverything else was already legally unreachable, she walked out of 30 years with $22,000.
\nAn old car, her clothes and her grandmother\u2019s recipe book, she kept $1,000 as a buffer three weeks later.
\nShe was driving through the Old 4th Ward with no destination in mind when she passed a shuttered building on Edgewood Avenue, the windows were papered over.
\nThe sign above the door was faded and peeling, a for sale notice was taped to the glass, she stopped the car and she sat there.
\nFor a short while looking at the building, then she called the number on the notice, the building was Delia\u2019s.
\nA soul food restaurant that had fed the Old Fourth Ward for 20 years before it closed eight years ago, the owner Miss Delia Pratt.
\n84 years old, living in a nursing home in Decatur, had been trying to sell it for four years but nobody wanted it, the kitchen equipment was old.
\nThe neighborhood had changed, every month she held it cost her money she did not have, Loretta offered $21,000, 10,000 below the asking price.
\nMiss Delia said yes before Loretta finished the sentence, 21,000 in hand was better than 31,000 that had not come in four years.
\nLoretta bought the building on a Thursday morning, she walked through it alone that afternoon, the kitchen was dusty but intact.
\nThe dining room needed work but the bones were good, at the back of the kitchen was a storage room door she had not yet opened, she opened it.
\nOld equipment, broken chairs, paper supplies have gone soft with age, and against the back wall the crates.
\nShe already knows what she found, you already know what she found, but standing there the second time.
\nKnowing now who she is, what was taken from her, what 21,000 dollar means when it is everything you have left, the label on those bottles hits differently.
\nThis was not luck, a woman who had lost everything did not stumble into a storage room and find her grandmother\u2019s name on a bottle by accident.
\nThis was 30 years of a life that could not be reduced to a deed or an account balance or a trust document, Estelle\u2019s hot sauce ended up in this building.
\nBecause Estelle built something real, something that outlasted her, something that found its way across years and closed doors and an eight-year silence to the one person it was always meant for.
\nLoretta just had to show up, she did show up with $21,000 and a recipe book and nothing else to lose: \u201cTrame original, Estelle May Williams, New Orleans, Louisiana\u201d.
\nInside one of the crates was a folder, correspondence between Estelle and Miss Delia going back 15 years, monthly orders.
\nHandwritten notes about which batches were the strongest and which needed more time, and beneath the correspondence.
\nManufacturing agreements, official documents signed, dated, assigning the rights to \u201cTrame Original\u201d to Estelle May Williams and her direct heirs.
\nLoretta read the agreements twice, she understood they were important.
\nShe did not yet understand how important it was, she took the folder and called a lawyer, the lawyer\u2019s office was on Auburn Avenue.
\nLoretta sat across the desk and laid the folder out between them and waited, the lawyer read through everything carefully.
\nThen she looked up: \u201cInherited brand rights assigned before marriage are separate property under Georgia law\u201d.
\nThe lawyer said this agreement was signed in 1987, you married Calvin Simmons in 1993.
\nThe agreement predates your marriage by six years, your grandmother died in 2019, you are her only direct heir.
\nShe paused: \u201cThe brand is yours\u201d, she said, \u201cclean, legally sound, nobody can touch it\u201d.
\nLoretta sat with that for a while, 31 bottles of hot sauce in a storage room that nobody had opened in eight years.
\nHer grandmother\u2019s name on every label, her grandmother\u2019s signature on every agreement sitting there for eight years.
\nWaiting for the one person they belong to, she asked the lawyer how much the brand might be worth, the lawyer did not know yet but she knew who to ask.
\nWhen Loretta filed the paperwork to formally assert ownership of \u201cTrame Original\u201d, the filing became public record.
\nRowan Elijah Dupree\u2019s team had an alert set for any legal activity connected to that brand, they had been looking for it for three years.
\nThey tracked it to New Orleans, they found that Estelle May Williams died in 2019, they could not find a surviving heir.
\nThe filing triggered the alert, Rowan\u2019s team contacted Loretta\u2019s lawyer within two weeks, they met at a restaurant in Midtown Atlanta on a Wednesday morning.
\nRowan\u2019s choice, a Creole place he owned on Peachtree Street that smelled like the food Loretta had grown up eating, she noticed that immediately.
\nShe did not say anything about it, Rowan Elijah Dupree was 54 years old, born in New Orleans.
\nHe had built Dupree Food Group from one Creole restaurant in Atlanta into the largest black-owned food and hospitality company in the American South.
\nHe had been acquiring authentic regional food brands for eight years, hot sauces, spice blends, regional condiments with real heritage and real stories.
\nHe understood the difference between a product and a legacy, he built his company on that distinction, Loretta had looked him up the night before.
\nRead the profile pieces, she expected someone polished and transactional, a man who had learned to wear warmth like a suit and take it off when the meeting was over, he was not that.
\nHe sat across from her and, before she could open the folder between them, asked her what her grandmother\u2019s kitchen smelled like on a Sunday morning.
\nLoretta looked at him: \u201cCayenne and butter, and something sweet underneath that I could never name\u201d, she said.
\nRowan nodded slowly: \u201cMy grandmother\u2019s kitchen smelled the same way\u201d.
\nRowan said two miles from Tremaine Street: \u201cI have been trying to find that flavor again for three years, I have tasted 50 hot sauces, none of them came close\u201d.
\nHe slid a folder across the table, inside was everything his team had compiled on \u201cTrame Original\u201d.
\nDistribution records from the 1990s, reviews in New Orleans food publications.
\nLetters from restaurants that had tried to source it after Estelle stopped producing, a handwritten note from a chef in Baton Rouge.
\nWho said he had been trying to recreate the flavor for 11 years and had never come close, Loretta turned the pages slowly.
\nHer grandmother had built something real, something people had been looking for long after she was gone, nobody in Loretta\u2019s family had known Estelle.
\nThey never hid it, nobody ever asked, Loretta looked up from the folder: \u201cI am not here to buy you out\u201d.
\nRowan said: \u201cI am here to build something with you, your grandmother\u2019s recipe, your name on it, my distribution, equal partnership\u201d.
\nLoretta closed the folder: \u201cI need to think about it\u201d, she said.
\n\u201cTake your time\u201d, he said, she called him back the next morning.
\nLoretta had expected Calvin to disappear from her life once the divorce was done, take what he took, move to the next thing.
\nThat was Calvin, that had always been Calvin, she was wrong, he came back for the one thing he had missed.
\nCalvin found out through Camille, for months after the divorce, Loretta thought her daughter was the only one still on her side.
\nCamille called every week, asked how she was doing, asked about the building, asked what Loretta had found inside.
\nAsked whether she had spoken to any lawyers, she sounded concerned, she sounded like a daughter who was worried about her mother.
\nLoretta answered every question honestly because Camille was her daughter and she had no reason not to, every conversation was being forwarded to Calvin.
\nCamille Simmons Archer, 28 years old, married, living in Charlotte, had been monitoring her mother since the day the papers were served.
\nCalling regularly, asking careful questions, reporting back to her father what Loretta was doing, where she was and what she seemed to be accumulating.
\nWhen Loretta bought the building on Edgewood, Camille told Calvin within 48 hours, when Loretta filed the brand ownership paperwork, Camille told him about that too.
\nCalvin\u2019s lawyers filed a challenge in June, they argued that the brand was discovered during the period the divorce proceedings had not yet concluded and therefore constituted a marital asset subject to division.
\nThey cited Camille\u2019s intelligence as supporting evidence, her messages to Calvin, sent while she was calling her mother and asking how she was doing, were included in the court filing.
\nCalvin called Loretta himself the night before the hearing, Loretta saw his name on the screen and sat with the phone in her hand for a long moment, then she picked up.
\nHe said her name softly like it meant something to him, like the 18 months of planning had not happened: \u201cI am here\u201d, she said.
\nHe said the brand was not worth the fight, that they could settle quietly, that he was not trying to hurt her, that he just wanted what was fair, Loretta didn\u2019t say anything at first.
\n\u201cCalvin\u201d, she said, \u201cyou took the house, you took the car, you took 30 years of my work and structured it so my name was on none of it, you had 18 months to decide what was fair, you already decided\u201d.
\nHe started to say something: \u201cDo not call me again\u201d, she said, she hung up, she sat in her car outside the lawyer\u2019s office in the dark for a few minutes after that.
\nNot crying, not angry, she had stopped waiting for something to be different, she could feel that clearly now for the first time, then she went inside.
\nThe first hearing, the judge read the manufacturing agreement, she read the date, she read the marriage certificate date.
\nShe read Georgia property law on inherited separate assets, she looked at Calvin\u2019s lawyer, she looked at Calvin, she closed the folder: \u201cChallenge dismissed\u201d.
\nCalvin\u2019s lawyer billed him $34,000 for the filing, the filing was public record.
\nCamille\u2019s husband read it online, he saw his wife\u2019s name in the supporting documents, he read what she had sent her father.
\nHe read the dates, every message sent while Camille was calling her mother and asking how she was doing, he put the phone down and looked at his wife.
\nCamille called Loretta three weeks later, she needed somewhere to go, Loretta listened to the whole call without interrupting.
\n\u201cYou did not call me when I needed somewhere to go\u201d, Loretta said, she hung up.
\nCalvin spent 30 years using legal structures to take things from people, he had done it to Loretta, he had done it to others, the others came forward when the federal investigation opened.
\nLoretta never filed a complaint, the investigation opened because of a pattern that Calvin\u2019s lawyers could no longer contain once it was examined in a courtroom rather than the privacy of a closing meeting.
\nThree other parties, similar structures, similar paperwork, similar results.
\nDevin Calvin Simmons, 31 years old, six years at the firm, senior associate, had signed the documents, he had known what he was signing.
\nHe had done it because he believed his father\u2019s legal team had made everything untouchable and because Devin had spent his entire adult life calculating where the money was going and making sure he was positioned to receive some of it.
\nHe had calculated wrong, the same documents that were supposed to protect Calvin became the evidence trail.
\nDevin\u2019s name was on them, clear, dated, his signature on transfers that a federal investigator could follow in an afternoon.
\nDevin called Loretta when the investigation opened, not to apologize, to ask whether she had said anything to investigators.
\nWhether she had filed anything, whether there was anything she could do, Loretta listened to the whole call.
\nThen she said she had not filed anything and had not spoken to anyone and that whatever was happening to him, he had built it himself, she dropped the call.
\nDevin lost his real estate license before his career had properly started, at 31 years old, his name was attached to a federal investigation and, in an industry that runs on reputation, nobody in Atlanta commercial real estate would return his calls.
\nCalvin lost the firm, he lost his license, the woman from his office, the one he had left Loretta for, left him the month the investigation went public.
\nShe had never been there for him, she was there for what he represented.
\nWhat he represented was gone in the time it takes for a federal case to become public record, Calvin ended up in a one-bedroom apartment in Marietta with a federal case pending and a name nobody in Atlanta commercial real estate would touch.
\n30 years of deals, 30 years of suits and handshakes and dinners where he shook the right hands and said the right things and walked out with what he came for.
\n30 years of building something he was certain nobody could take from him, reduced to a case number and an address in Marietta.
\nHe called Loretta once from that apartment, she put the phone face down on the counter and let it ring until it stopped.
\nHe called Devin, Devin did not pick up, Calvin was no longer useful to him.
\nDevin only ever called people who were useful, Calvin sat in that apartment and understood for the first time what it felt like to build 30 years of something and watch it mean nothing to the people who were supposed to love you, he had built exactly what he deserved.
\nLoretta drove to the nursing home in Decatur on a Tuesday morning.
\nMiss Delia Pratt was 84 years old, small, alert, she had spent her whole life paying attention and had not stopped just because the world had moved her somewhere smaller.
\nLoretta sat down across from her and introduced herself, her name, her grandmother\u2019s name.
\nMiss Delia went completely quiet, not confusion, recognition, she had been waiting a long time to hear something and had stopped expecting it to come.
\n\u201cEstelle\u2019s granddaughter\u201d, she said, \u201cyes ma\u2019am\u201d, Loretta said, Miss Delia looked at her for a long moment.
\n\u201cI kept those bottles because I could not throw away something Estelle made with her own hands when the restaurant closed, I locked that room and told myself I would figure it out later, later became 8 years, I tried to reach Estelle but she was already sick then she was gone, I did not know who to give them to, I just kept them because throwing them away felt wrong\u201d.
\n\u201cYou kept them for me\u201d, Loretta said, \u201cyou just did not know it yet\u201d, Miss Delia reached across and put her hand over Loretta\u2019s.
\nThey sat together in that small room in Decatur for two hours, Miss Delia talked about Estelle, how she arrived every month with fresh bottles wrapped in cloth.
\nHow she never raised her prices even when Miss Delia told her she should, how she always asked about the customers by name even though she had never met most of them.
\nLoretta listened to every word, she had grown up beside this woman\u2019s closest friend and had not known it until she opened a storage room door on Edgewood Avenue with $21,000 to her name.
\nWhen she left, she called her lawyer from the parking lot, the monthly payment arrangement was drawn up that week, not legally required, a correction.
\nMiss Delia had held those bottles for eight years without knowing who to return them to, Loretta was returning the favor.
\nEight months after the divorce, Ruthie Bowman sent a single text message: \u201cI just wanted you to know I never stopped thinking about you, you were always good to me\u201d, that was all, no ask, no angle, just that.
\nLoretta read it three times before she called back, Ruthie had worked in the Simmons household for 14 years.
\nShe had seen things in that house she was not supposed to see, she had gone to Loretta quietly, not with proof, not with drama.
\nAnd told her something did not feel right and that Loretta should pay attention to the accounts, Loretta had not fully heard it at the time.
\nShe was too deep inside the life she had built to see what was being done to it from the outside, she heard it later sitting in a lawyer\u2019s office.
\nUnderstanding that the money had been moved and the house was gone and the man she had trusted for 30 years had spent 18 months preparing to leave her with nothing.
\nRuthie was the only person who tried to warn her, Calvin had fired her the week the papers were served, no notice, no severance.
\nA text from his assistant that said her services were no longer required, 14 years and a text from an assistant.
\nRuthie had spent eight months doing housekeeping at a hotel in Buckhead, less money, no benefits, early mornings cleaning rooms for people who never looked up from their phones.
\nShe sent the text because she heard through someone in the neighborhood that Loretta had bought a building on Edgewood and she wanted her to know she was thinking of her, she did not need anything back, she just wanted Loretta to know.
\nWhen Trame on Edgewood opened, Ruthie was the front of house manager.
\nLoretta had called her into the kitchen two days before opening, sat her down at the prep table, told her what she wanted to say before the noise of opening night made quiet conversations impossible.
\n\u201cYou tried to warn me when nobody else did\u201d, Loretta said, \u201cyou saw what was happening in that house and you came to me and you told me the truth even though it cost you something to say it\u201d.
\nRuthie started to say it was nothing: \u201cIt was not nothing\u201d, Loretta said, \u201cthis restaurant has a place for you, a real one with your name on the board and benefits and everything that should have come with 14 years of showing up for someone\u201d.
\nRuthie did not say anything for a moment: \u201cI just did not want you to be blindsided\u201d, she said.
\n\u201cI know\u201d, Loretta said, \u201cthat is why you are here\u201d, Ruthie had not had health insurance in 11 years.
\nHer name went on the staff board the morning the restaurant opened, the old Fourth Ward, Edgewood Avenue.
\nThe lines stretched down the block before the doors even opened, people who had watched the sign go up over the past month.
\nPeople who had smelled something from the pavement during the soft opening and made a note to come back, people who had heard about the hot sauce through someone who heard about it through someone else.
\nWord spreading quietly and fast across the old Fourth Ward until the whole block knew, inside the smell of Loretta\u2019s grandmother\u2019s recipes moved through every room and out the front door into the street.
\nCayenne and butter and something sweet underneath that even the people who had never been to New Orleans recognized as the smell of food made by someone who cared.
\nEvery table was taken, the kitchen was running, plates and conversation and laughter and the warm noise of a full room filled every corner of the building that eight months ago had been a shuttered shell on a block nobody was paying attention to.
\nPeople who had no idea they were standing in front of something that had been 30 years and one storage room door in the making.
\nBefore service began, Loretta went to the kitchen alone, she opened the recipe book, she turned to the front cover.
\nShe took the photograph out for the first time, the one she had carried inside that book for 30 years without ever framing: Estelle May Williams, 1987, 31 years old, a jar of hot sauce in each hand, smiling like she knew something nobody else knew yet.
\nLoretta had the photograph framed that afternoon, plain wood frame, clean glass, no ceremony.
\nShe carried it to the wall next to the kitchen door herself and hung it there, every person who walked into Tremaine on Edgewood walked past it.
\nWhen the restaurant was full and every table was taken and the sound of people eating and talking filled every corner of the room, Ruthie appeared at Loretta\u2019s shoulder.
\nThey stood together in the kitchen doorway and looked out at what they had built, a room full of strangers eating food that almost never made it out of a storage room.
\nA hot sauce on every table that had been sitting in wooden crates for eight years waiting for someone to come, a photograph on the wall of a woman who had bottled something real and trusted it would find its way to the right hands.
\nIt had found its way to Loretta May Simmons, 58 years old, standing in a restaurant she bought with her last dollar on a street she had never driven down before the day her marriage ended.
\nHer grandmother\u2019s name above the kitchen door and her grandmother\u2019s recipes on every plate, neither Ruthie nor Loretta said much.
\nThey did not need to, Calvin took the house, he took the car, he took 30 years of Loretta\u2019s labor and structured it carefully so her name was on none of it, he left her with $21,000 and a recipe book, he thought he left her with nothing.
\nHe left her with everything, because the one thing he never understood about Loretta, the one thing he could not take because he could not see it, was where she came from.
\nHer grandmother\u2019s kitchen on trem\u00e9 Street, those recipes, that hot sauce, the photograph tucked inside the front cover of a book he never once opened in 30 years of living in the same house as the woman who carried it.
\nHe had every advantage, he had lawyers and 18 months and every asset restructured in his name, and he still missed the thing that mattered.
\nYou cannot take what you cannot see, some people spend their whole lives chasing what they can put their name on, Loretta inherited something much harder to steal.
\nA recipe, a story, a grandmother who bottled her whole life into 31 jars and trusted that the right person would find them.
\nThe people who only see what something is worth on paper will always miss what actually matters, and by the time they realize it, it is already too late.
\nIf this story made you realize that the things nobody thinks are worth taking are sometimes the only things worth having, send it to someone who needs to hear it.
\nCalvin came back after the divorce and tried to claim trame original through his lawyers, he lost.
\nHe lost the firm, he lost his license, he lost the woman he left Loretta for, he lost everything he spent 30 years building.
\nHere is the question: if someone spent 30 years taking from you, your house, your money, your name on nothing, and then finally faced every consequence of what they built, would you forgive them or would you let them sit with what they made?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

He Divorced Her At 58. She Bought An Old Restaurant With Her Last Dollar. Only For This To Happen\u2026 Three weeks after her husband took everything, the house, the car, … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2046","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-old-story-life"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2046","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2046"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2046\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2047,"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2046\/revisions\/2047"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2046"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2046"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldstorylife.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2046"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}